Far Better It Would Be
She watched them from the terrace. Her heart reeled
to see them falling, cut down by the foe.
And her dear husband on that crimson field
was also slain. The sun, blood red, dipped low.
The months have passed. She’s not the only one
of wives bereft with husbands in the ground.
Their farms! How will the heavy work get done?
And when again will the endearing sound
of children’s laughter in the village ring?
Their strongest sons and some young daughters too
were snatched away from them. Great suffering
is all she knows, for little can they do!
Far better it would be if all the town
had perished when their men had been cut down.
Jan. 13, 2019 for Mark Massey's War Sonnet Poetry Contest
Now for John Hamilton's 2019 Best Sonnet Poetry Contest
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment