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Poems by Michael D. Brown



Bombs fall from B52's,

like dead bodies into open graves.

Their weight is deafening in the air.

The sound of life exploding is muffled

by the screams of children cradled

behind their mothers' veil.

Nothing in the black sky

is ever calm again.


Ravages of war

When I had something to fight with

I truly believed winning the war was attainable.

I could come up with a strategy for combat situations

with little rations or sleep to rest me alert during the day:

fighting all through the advanced night falls glowing with conflict.

Now that every turn is not trusted to curve into some safety

and children are not only children when they explode for a cause,

underneath a land mine hidden too well to unearth, the earth

trembles and the violence reaches every street.