The place for writers: Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world. Learn how other writers are doing it.
I dream of a Place of Peace
But in vain
Time and again there is pain;
I was brought to a Promised Land
Created with killing, insane;
where
Remnants of blood
Traces of flood
Sensations of fear
Remain;
I dream of a place secure
Clean colorful and pure
But I am not sure
As I see
the flying roof of a bus
As I hear
the terrifying sound of a blast
OH how long is it going to last?
As I fear
One moment in time
May be so fast
before we know
And thus.....
We are......no where
No More;
Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
Your poem brings up an interesting question: the religions, their moderates and fanatics alike, dream of a 'place of peace' -- the heavenly bliss of the afterworld; your poem concludes on the ironic collision of earthly, political peace against the unsettling 'peace' of death; so is there a further 'collision' between these two, or a double irony that we might think of?
