Battlefield


After the glory of a battle won
The soldier stands with blood staining his hands
His weary eyes gazing over the lands
And the dead lay beneath the blazing sun
He lowers his head, his soul gripped with pain
For the lives lost in the victory’s quest
As he prays the fallen will now find rest
In their memory may new peace remain
A defiant act to the thugs of war
That call for death for the innocent men
Who serve with honour in the field and glen
While always knocking the Reaper’s door
For the soldier, it is not he that wins
He pays the price of another man’s sins

© JG Farmer 2016

Form: Bowlesian Sonnet

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About Jez Farmer

I am a freelance writer and poet and started writing after raising my two boys as a way of discovering just who Jez is. That is still very much an on-going project but the journey so far has introduced me to many wonderful friends and fellow writers through an ever growing love of poetry.
This entry was posted in Form Poetry, Life, Poetry, Sonnets and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Battlefield

  1. It’s such an amazing poem. It conveyed the feelings of the sorldie perfectly. Thank you for sharing this!

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