War is a battle one cannot win.
Win or lose you are committing a sin
In war there are no victorious winners.
The participating parties are the sinners
.
Devastation, death, shock and awe
The true meaning of that little word war.
Human beings slain, wounded and in pain.
Never being able to live normal lives again.
Gallant men and women meet their maker.
And end up in the obituaries of the daily paper.
Mother and father weep for their son and daughter.
Whilst war carries on with it’s insane slaughter.
Oh God give me you’re almighty strength.
So that I.
May never have to pull the trigger,
and see another human die.
Yes I am most fortunate that I survived,
But my heart grieves for those who died.
With you one hundred per cent Gordon. Moving poem. Sincerely Ernestine Northover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice thought and a good poem but unfortunately there are some things that have to be fought for. It's a pity I agree.