The Soldiers At Lauro

Rating: 4.0

Young are our dead
Like babies they lie
The wombs they blest once
Not healed dry
And yet - too soon
Into each space
A cold earth falls
On colder face.
Quite still they lie
These fresh-cut reeds
Clutched in earth
Like winter seeds
But they will not bloom
When called by spring
To burst with leaf
And blossoming
They sleep on
In silent dust
As crosses rot
And helmets rust.

Friday, January 3, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: soldiers
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ratnakar Mandlik 26 October 2018

'As crosses rot And helmets rust. A good poem.

0 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 01 August 2016

Profound poem, nicely written.

0 0 Reply
Fabrizio Frosini 22 October 2015

yes.. this is a real poem..

8 0 Reply
Steve Armstrong 22 November 2005

Very Poignant... Should be used for rememberance day

3 2 Reply