Many call it war poetry, but I want to call it warpoetry.
It's a special genre.
It's a special genre.
It's straightforward, bare, without the embellishments or decorations.
It's what's written on the walls, seen on the screens.
We know the poetry of times that have passed so very well:
For the fallen
It's what's written on the walls, seen on the screens.
We know the poetry of times that have passed so very well:
For the fallen
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them…
Laurence Binyon
The Feathered Poets asks you to write your own warpoetry.
Your impression of this war.
Your thoughts.
You can post a link in the comments.
(adverts will be removed.)
If you wish, you can link back with this image or make a textlink.
So others can take part too.
Download and upload, pls. Resize if needed.
If you don't have a blog you can post your poem in the comments,
or ask me to make you a blog.
or ask me to make you a blog.