
By S. S. Hicks
How long did it take
turning battlefields into blooms?
Nourished from fallen soldiers,
clutching hearts not their own.
Nameless warriors, yesterday’s schoolboys
with combed hair and brushed teeth.
Given bayonets, helmets and cigarettes,
whispering to their mamas as they
colored fields with their death.
I am awed. A beautiful, heartfelt poem.
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Beautifully written!
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Reblogged this on S. S. Hicks and commented:
I just noticed my poem was chosen for Editor’s Pick on The Drabble! It’s a wonderful blog that publishes stories and poems 100 words or less.
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Just a word; Wow.
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Reblogged this on The Story Hive and commented:
what a wonderful poem…
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