A place of fighting,
A place of war,
Although there's nothing,
That's worth fighting for.
You must have courage,
To fight at all,
Chance of death,
Can be big or small.
Grieving families,
Mourning all day,
They'd prefer to die,
Another way.
Rows of poppies,
To remember those who die,
Dying so young,
Makes families cry.
Your feedback helps Georgiastar understand what's working
Hi...just me...being random...!
I will always remember my forefathers, men who fought through times of war. Remember their every sacrifice, at home and upon foreign shores.
Remember remember. The 11th of November. 'Cause men died in war for us. Gas may have killed. And guns may have thrilled. But on the 11of November it stopped. People suffered, got injured and died,.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
improvisation Challenge set by @eddie12309 Using words: Grass, Egg, Emotion, Poppy, Smell and Hands.
Tit for tat leaves tat for tits A people conquered but a land in bits He said she said means who said what. Will our children's children thank us for the wars that we fought.
The fields covered in vibrant red. Too many have lost their lives, Are dead. Deafening gunfire has just ceased, Man proven once again to be the beast.
The bombs the bullets. The bodies that fall. The broken the battered. The fodder of war. The young and the brave. Are borrowed to battle. They fall to their fate. With the bullets that rattle.
The bullets fall, The soldiers brawl, The bodies drop, And never stop. The madness spreads, Inside their heads, A violent lust, Within the dust.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.