On The Brook Of Right
Bang, bang, bang
Rifle sound over the brook of right.
The earth bows and sweet heavens weep.
Shout of death and laughter of happiness is craze.
Sound of red moon cry to pervert,
While scorching sun quells to leave no peace behind.
Trees over the hills marries the chanting sound of joy,
With the maim of serious rivers and dried streams.
Woes unto the wind as it strife,
To contend with breathing seas.
In the silent evening which is better than death
Is flog to die.
The sky clasp with sinking ocean,
And the wind arid to air bodies.
Bang, bang, bang
On the battlefield they sound.
Boom, boom, boom
No life, no hope and days decay with silent evening
Dying seem so long but here it homes away sweetness
As with the muggy weather and perils of Dead Sea.
Begotters weep there souls out as the fruit of their labor,
For no just cause they suffer.
Black cloud covers the beautiful light from the sun,
As souls weep in the abyss of death.
Brooding machines, fear hives as they approach,
Trotting over the very earth they curse.
As there leaders blithe with disregard for their very cause.
Boom, boom, boom
In the air they deafen.
poem by Samuel Donkor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
