War Poem
I chanced on a painting
by Paul Nash.
Blasted trees stuck
gnarled fingers in the air
rising out of a desolate
landscape
But there was none there
it was grey green in its emptiness
It was as if the end of the world
had come in a tempest
and gone leaving nothing
but despair.
Despair in the landscape
echoing across the land.
Despair in the living
lost of their loved ones
That painting lives on in my mind
more than photos of tanks
and guns and battle glare
exposed daily in the media.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
