Poetry: The War's Cruel Tale

 

By. Cucuk Espe

In fields where poppies once danced,

Beneath a sky now stained,

Whispers of sorrow, a tragic romance,

As war's cruel tale is ingrained.

Soldiers, like shadows, march in despair,

Their eyes reflecting a haunting glare,

In the symphony of gun and drum,

A requiem for the battles yet to come.

 

Upon a canvas of desolation, painted red,

The echoes of war, a symphony of dread,

Torn landscapes, shattered dreams,

Rivers of tears, silent screams.

In the ruins of homes, where laughter once soared,

Now stand the remnants of hopes ignored,

A lament for the fallen, a cry for the lost,

In the heart of war, a heavy cost.

 

Beneath the moon's mournful gaze,

Soldiers wander through a somber maze,

The stars above, witnesses to pain,

In the theater of war, no victory to gain.

Families torn, like pages from a book,

In every sorrowful glance, a wounded look,

A requiem for the fallen, a dirge for the brave,

In the graveyard of nations, love couldn't save.

 

Silhouettes of soldiers, etched in despair,

Whispers of sorrow taint the air,

A symphony of loss, a bitter refrain,

In the cold embrace of war's cruel domain.

Broken homes, like shattered glass,

In the aftermath, memories amass,

A tearful sonnet for the fallen's repose,

In the cruel theater where war's tragedy flows.

 

Beneath the moon, a lone soldier weeps,

In the silence of night, sorrow seeps,

A dirge for the fallen, a cry for peace,

In the war-torn echoes, hope finds no release.

As the sun sets on the battlefield's stage,

A requiem for love, for hope, for rage,

In the arms of war, where shadows grow,

Poetry mourns a world lost in woe.

 

2023 on December.