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my man went to war

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09-26-2009 at 11:34:04 PM

my man went to war

my man went to war




my man went to war
i shall see him no more
my blood will eternally boil
the truth being he perished for oil
25 years from time of loving birth
all wasted for the black shit of earth
if i ever give birth to a precious little son
i'll tell him straight out "run baby run"

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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