Life in the distant arid lands is fragile and snuffed all too quickly by the so-called freedom warriors of the government in Khartoum.
Past dried cracked walls
Grass roof shadows
Black hole doors
Hidden wide eyes of fear
The horses are running
Panic before them
Torching destruction
Old people falling
They cry with no tear
Celebration of hatred
Fire tongues kiss death
The air disappearing
Shimmering empty
Through clearing haze
Only the black poles charred
Point to the guilty
Once shaded the children
Now ravaged in ash
Only the vulture lazily turning
Poetry by Adrian Wood
Read 443 times
Written on 2012-02-05 at 21:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
The Horses
Through village beaten pathwayPast dried cracked walls
Grass roof shadows
Black hole doors
Hidden wide eyes of fear
The horses are running
Panic before them
Torching destruction
Old people falling
They cry with no tear
Celebration of hatred
Fire tongues kiss death
The air disappearing
Shimmering empty
Through clearing haze
Only the black poles charred
Point to the guilty
Once shaded the children
Now ravaged in ash
Only the vulture lazily turning
Poetry by Adrian Wood
Read 443 times
Written on 2012-02-05 at 21:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
