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when innocence averts her eyes
the ghost of war is on the prowl
it taunts; it shatters loving bones
stench in its wake, rotten and foul

the rivers red and bled to death
when innocence averts her eyes,
when tortured soul claws at the sky
humanity limps, in disguise

to children’s wails and ripping guns
destruction’s horrid fist does rule
when innocence averts her eyes
hope lost – abandoned; fallen fool

we only see when we don’t run
so easy to ignore the cries
turn off the TV, go to sleep…
and innocence averts her eyes.

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The Face of War (Salvador Dalí)

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Gay over at dVerse Poets Pub has us experimenting with a French form of poetry – the Quatern. Not that easy to build, but I tried… this is what I came up with. Come join us at the bar!

photo credits: google image search

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