Clover on the ground is shot for our guns
Battlefields poisoned with the tears of our son
Showers of Spring mask the mixing of blood-
Pollen spills and spins on the sunset's brim
The smells heavy enough to eradicate whims
And I can't purge this damn stain from my glove-
Now population control is rolling over the hill
And I'm not one to just kill for the thrill
But something, something has got to be done-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i love it. It's powerful, makes a statement, makes you think. Xs and Os, Colette