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Shadow Of War Poems

There is nothing more heartbreaking than humankind waging war against each other. Relentless fighting over land, people, principles, and other political issues causes people to kill, destroy, and deplete nations, people, resources, land, and even the future of the next generation. War encourages violence and creates a deep divide that takes so much time to heal. As much as the issues that are fought over wars are important or significant, there is never a good reason to kill and destroy, especially when the shadows of war are death and misery. In a war, nobody actually wins. Each side has losses that can never be replaced.

Browse through our collection of poems at 1Love Poems for your next writing inspirations and ideas, and have your readers talking about the themes that you love.


In The Shadows Of War

by Terpsichory wildchild

In the shadows…
To the broken dreams of freedom..
To the mountains of the only salvation..
They pray not to lose their relatives..
To the hell of war the cross not to forget…
Now the adults sons are living to the war for days..
And the mothers are in the churches for hours..
The tears are roll with passion…
The extinguished grins appeared to the persons…
The tender touch of pain in the bodies was ablaze..
The passion of malice the soldiers kills..
He is chasing the recollections…
A concealed secret under the persons…
A forgotten soul watches silently…
The lance of sword falls low..
The bloody corpses in the verge of death are found…
The tired hearts in the pain are opened…
The trees don’t testify…
The flowers hush…
The looks testify the pain of inhumanity…
The women want their family…
Few turned with sword and shield…
the others didn’t see sunbeam…
The women cry with pain…
They are lost and these as their children…
They make a grave to glorify…
They try to forget the pain..
In the grave a flower blooms…
Reminding them that the life grows!

Shadows Of War

by simon thorpe

The dark, brooding shadow of malevolence lies stagnant in the air,
Clogging the arteries of the world below, leaving only a stench of despair,
War itself is a disease that eats away at the fabric of life we hold dear,
There are no winners or losers, just futility that much is clear.

Source: Poemhunter
https://www.poemhunter.com/

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