War Poem by David Neesam
War
The soldier grits his teeth,
his eerie spear is sent through the sky,
a life ender aimed at the enemy's eye,
a sickening screech fills the air,
like the hiss of a snake that one can not bare,
rose red water covers the field,
a battle in which winning no one can wield,
a battle where thought has lost and rage has won,
as horrible as a zombie's black tongue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 12:39:07 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
