Not For the Squeamish
Ominous shots sound far in the distance
Echoes lunge toward us grow ever near
Grim foes tear down the gates with persistence
In blows hurl wild flurries of ice cold fear
Relentless on our guard it's them or us
Gloomy skies foreshadow bloody skirmish
Nothing short of heated hellish chaos
This here turbulence ain't for the squeamish
Against front line action we raise our shields
Soldiers will soon succumb to the nightmare
Wish I could remember bucolic fields
Where the sun glittered in Mae's golden hair
I'd trade my last prayer for a sole rose
As clouds hover o'er the poppy meadows
AP: 1st place 2020
Submitted on December 12, 2019 for A BRIAN STRAND SONNET contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
for contest YOUR BEST SONNET JULY-DECEMBER 2019 sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON
and on January 7, 2019 for contest WAR SONNET sponsored by MARK MASSEY
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2019
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