Caught Within the Wicked Spell of Death

 

Caught Within the Wicked Spell of Death

The mourning bell, often chimed, to unforeseen grief, in sorrow sung,

Set in sallow tones, cast upon each face, to the sound of sadness rung.

Blinding tears flooding, rent from overcast eyes to eternal pain cleft,

Struck with distress, numbing torment, solemn hearts set in ruins heft.

Heads bowed, in somber prayer, reflecting on each soul, sadly raised,

Arms outstretched, in reverence of the life lived, lost images engraved.

Within each mind, whose souls have been beset, with such tragic news,

Left to reason, why tragedy has struck, their thoughts totally confused.

Eyes set, where the hands of time ceased, within a heartbeat, stopped,

With wretched sounds, still echoing inside, from the missiles dropped.

Within the deafening roar, brought in resonance, off hatreds applause,

Suffering in genocide, the thunderous claps, bringing the worst of wars.

Within the promised land, each life hanging, like pendulums a swinging,

Marking time, all counting down, with shellshocked ears loudly ringing.

Each person waiting, the lethal hammer blow, the final moment marked,

To spend eternity, the rest of time, in a plot, where they shall be parked.

The open caskets, imprinted on the eyes, of the world, difficult to forget,

The widows, dressed in black, faces drowning, in streams of tears wept.

Each awful image seen, around the world, a solemn view of souls, in grief,

By the sickness, manifested in soulless beings, in madness, beyond belief.

The foreign force, that constantly breaks treaties, malcontent their curse,

So much love lost, the miserable debt, a terrible way to part, so perverse.

Each attempt, to embrace the souls, of the dearly departed, done in vain,

All heroes, who have given, paying the ultimate price, soldiers of Ukraine.

Now as time never stands still, marching on, they will never be forgotten,

As their dearly loved gouge at the pain, in their hearts, feeling so rotten.

With the haunting sights, of innocent children, flashing before their eyes,

In lives so short lived, the disconnected sound of laughter, now disguised.

Each happy memory wrenched, along with aspirations, and paternal love,

In profound sadness, the poor souls spirited away, by the mourning dove.

So many bonds broken, while the world stands by, its reason halfcocked,

With unwitting minds, blinded from the reality of war, the truth blocked.

The grieving victims, with no sign of resolution, in sight, biding their time,

As more precious lives are lost, while the warlords, commit their crimes.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (March 2025)