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