We will not be eaten but we will eat!
Replete with turned tables of old fables
as silver tongued swains swoon into stables
slay makers and body breakers compete.
Sleep will lay down with the lamb skin chamois.
Doe eyes grow heavy under leaded lids
and they're mapped out into laid about grids
as rising damp dew brings cool and clammy.
Soldiers can't stay where their life was waylaid.
Far too long a stretch for each gassed out wretch
for they are gone beyond pick up and fetch
so a prayer is played for the price they paid.
No more to hear taps after revelry.
There's no curtain calls upon Calvary.
[an:c0d52e3bd6]first line courtesy of k3ng from the poem challenge in writing challenges
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtopic.php?t=21329[/an:c0d52e3bd6]
