On the dusty table there sat
Dirty cups and plates and other nick-nats
Swept across the table was a book
That had news clippings worth a look
For it was placed together to tell
A gradual descent into a fiery hell
As the wind blew the pages were revealed
Of a story of a world that didn't yield
The first pages spoke of alliances made
And a bonding together for the warrior escapade
For buying guns and planes and army trains
Seemed the thing to do in all refrains
As the wind turned the grimy pages
The need for territory produced the rages
Until the final declaration was made
Of war and troops a farewell bade
The final page revealed the sprouting mushrooms all
And the end of every nation now the call.
© Paul Warren Poetry
And we all will dread that day. Just the thought of it is enough to send the chills to spine.
Congratulations on POD, DEAR POET. This poem with its inimitable style deserves the accolades. All the best
Wars are fought by hapless men and women, in the name of patriotism, but at the instance of self-serving greedy and powerhungry rulers…. Yes, war is the end of every nation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful rendition set aside for deep reflective thought. Congrats on your poem's selection as member POD.