It Was A Crimson Afternoon

On a crimson afternoon
a dusty fog settled after a dead wind
dead birds watered the walkway
with the smell of sulfur in the air

tired we fear nightfall ahead
we the brave
search for a cave
trenches filled with barbwire
and stones covered with glass
we’d catch ourselves and bleed
in need of rest
This we suffer because of others greed

On a crimson afternoon
my friend fell down with a frown
to breath no more
gas masks donned and went on
as a blood red moon rose in the sky
reminding us of the death we made
victory some would say
wishing to just rest and die

in an opening to an underground railway
we inflated our bubble were we may safely lay 
to welcome haunting nightmares were death awakes
In the morning we’ll search in hope to find some life around
from a crimson afternoon

By Roger Harkness


You are free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for education and or charity without my permission (but - send me a note if you have the time). You are not free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for profit without my written consent. You may link my poetry to your website freely without my consent (but if you do, an email would be nice).  Always be sure to give credit to the author Roger Harkness.