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Rated: E · Poetry · Relationship · #2156577
First draft of a poem I'm writing about love.
War by means -
not where nations play chess
flex dispensable might.
Not where metal sears flesh
in man-sized graves.
Or in hollow trenches
where the political class
bear not a crumpled tie,
unscathed from the
scourge of skirmish.
War by means -
not where children sombre,
set free kites, for frayed cotton;
carried in acrid wind
the only freedom they'll know.
Or midst crumpled towns,
where adolescents play;
cautious their laughter
shake not the dirt
for landmines prey.
War by means -
one which cause
cannot be sourced,
for its fire that consumes slow,
internal, across fields
where strewn roses
breathe their last.
Left to wilt,
under blackened heat;
for this unyielding ache,
unreciprocated.
My love for you,
a great conflict
- a war by other means.
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