Learn more about other poetry terms
In a forest not far from the sea A monkey swings high on a tree. It laughs and it shouts And leaps all about Jumping and feeling carefree.
A boy is bornTorn from momPut a gun in his handMake him hate is the planA new soldier manWill somebody stop this
Heavy triggers, pulled by little fingers, Wherever they sound, death always lingers, The deaths of innocence, and of childhood, Tiny killers stand, where tiny children stood.
Beautiful days with brothers so tight
Little boy comes in with a balloon tied around his finger, Releasing it to only graze across the ceiling Wishing it could reach beyond. He slinks away to his room with his shoes untied,
They gave me a gun, they told me to shoot. We fought in the sun, and left in the moon. They gave me a uniform, the color of blue. We fought in the warm, and left in the cool.
La petite Garçon hiked for three days he speaks with perfect diction but can't remember his name wo ist seinen Vatti? tot und stumm und blind he wandered through the country
The screams of bullets pierce the sky, As sounds of suffering resound across the night. The little boy with the gun wondering "Why?" Stands in the middle of this agonizing sight.
The day came when the Sun did not shine, the Rain would not fall, and the Wind refused to blow. The Planets wept but ignored were the tears of these celestial bodies.