Chris G. Vaillancourt

Silver Star - 3,046 Points (April 5,1959-june 2016 / Canada)

Children Of The Morning - Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

A seashell in the desert.
A piece of sand to a pearl.
A groaning, moaning,
population
is
stressing
about
awar.
Does not matter which one.
There always is one happening
somewhere
on
this
'if I kill you,
it means we
are right'
planet.
Solemn faces in the news,
bewailing
this
or
that
atrocity.< br>Shaking heads on couches
certain their
propaganda is correct.

But wait. In these
murderous
places,
I hear
the
children of the morning
waking up afraid.
Nervous little eyes
dimmed
by
the
rubble
they
share.

Topic(s) of this poem: peace, war and peace


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 25, 2015



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