POEM: Killing Fields

By Berniegourley @berniegourley

In the last days that stony ground gave life,
those great, green gifts were gained by thrust of knife.
As the blood puddle spread, so went the green -
trumped by colors inanimate and mean.
And when they prayed for cooler days and nights,
they were answered with blazing fires and lights.

This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.