Saturday, January 26, 2008

A Little Acrostic

Who will suffer these little ones?
Alone at this tender age
Robbed of unknown futures.

Because men could not
Abide one another in tolerance?
Because adults chose actions
Infantile in nature?
Egos raged as
Shots rang out.


Strong idiologies
Erase reason and logic
Initiating carnage.
Bledout bodies
Already rotting in the sun
Belong to someone’s father.

Remember this legacy
As it predicts the future
When men learn nothing from history.

Copyright © 2007 WML

1 comment:

David Wayne Hampton: said...

very powerful poem. Beautiful and tragic. I've found acrostic poems hard to write and not sound contrived, but I think you pulled it off well. When it comes to war and people's apathy toward it, that last line says it all.