Millard Lowe Poet Rhyme

Notes About The Poem

  WEEPING WAR-WORN WORRY

 

As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun

    Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees.

On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz

              With the songs of industrious bees:-

 

The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded death

                In the midst of innocent crowds,

As swollen moon struggles to peep through striated

            Wind-blown smoke and eerie clouds:-

 

             What is it in the psyche of man that 

            Pushes him to destroy his own kind?

             Can’t he see that with war upon war

             Humanity will soon run out of time?

 

   “Woe is me” cries out the blood-soaked weary land;

    When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?

WEARY WAR-WRON WORRY

As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun
    Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees.
On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz
              With the songs of industrious bees:-
 
The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded death
                In the midst of innocent crowds,
As swollen moon struggles to peep through striated
            Wind-blown smoke and eerie clouds:-
 
             What is it in the psyche of man that 
            Pushes him to destroy his own kind?
             Can’t he see that with war upon war
             Humanity will soon run out of time?
 
   “Woe is me” cries out the blood-soaked weary land;
    When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?

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