in Poetry 58 Words

A waterloo

Flowers grew where gunfire thundered
Unrelenting, the bullets plundered
No one listened to no decree
To spare dying humanity
Broken soldiers blindly blundered
Women, children helpless rendered
Amidst chaos reason floundered
None listened to compassion's plea
The war brought peace down on its knee
A waterloo
They walked leaving trail of tears, blood
Homeless, they might as well be dead
Losing loved ones and family
Justice became a tragedy
A waterloo.



#Rondeau

73 thoughts on “A waterloo”

      1. Haha, Golden Sparkle, Joker Sparkle….I like that!! You are one of a kind😉, and of course I know what you mean.😁
        Again, wonderful piece my platinum pen friend.😉

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      2. My golden pen friend whose ink sparkles and creates an aurum aura of poetic inspiration and beauty.
        I just hopped over to your sparkle and read her amazing post.

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      3. Ahh!! I recently read the song she wrote and my insides needed floatation devices because I cried inside, she is amazingly beautiful to me. Thank you so much for your support my friend, you’ve been with me from day one and that means so much.❤️🌹

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  19. Unfortunately some never learn from history, so destined to be repeated. Soon to be forgotten except by those who suffer the most. Peace is never profitable.

    Excellent reminder in your poem.

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  22. Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
    I would commend to you and all: Mark Twain’s “The War Prayer,” which he declined to release until after he was dead. “In this,” he said, “I have told the truth as only a dead man may.” When you ask for victory in war for your troops, your nation, you really are praying two prayers, Twain wrote…and the John Groth-supplied lineart graphics further emphasized the prayer. This poem, Yassy, I feel could use its own John Groth-supplied art. Very well done, Your Ladyship.

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      1. Are we going yet again to engage in flattery-wars, Your Ladyship? If so surely I must win: I have the most ammunition! I am glad to know I am not the only one falling into the clutches of in spire, and all the other spires as well, both architectural and philosophical. You do so have such great spires, Yassy! I bow at least three hands to such not at all ceasingly.

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  26. I applaud your poem. It is tragic and beautiful as are things that inspire passion. I have been a soldier and I know the terrible thing a war is but you have made a vivid description and have made me think much on this topic. Thank you for such words and for the creative way you have conjured such images. You are indeed a gifted writer and poet

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