Note War holds a huge effect on people, the nature and the land itself. It effects everything.

Second poem for Poetry Project English A, 2014



The land,

she sits there in silence.


She can't do anything

to bring them back,

no matter what she tries.


She can't bring back her people

that once thrived and walked up and down the streets.


She can't bring back the laughter

that comes from the rickety playground down the block.


All she has left is those who are dead,

those who didn't leave her,

until the very end.


They held riots, they held rage,

but in the end they never succeeded.


No one heard the cry for help,

no one listened to the warnings from

the black and white television sitting on the broken table stand,

no one listened to the bombs go off,

no one listened to the warnings,

no one payed attention to those who left.


And now, as the land cries crimson tears of grief,

she wonders who could have helped her and her people.


Silence was called a golden thing,

but with the eerie silence,

she knew it was a lie.


So, with the silence all about,

the land sat there and mourned,

but no one heard her cries.

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