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The Plane of War (Free verse) by MacFrantic

Two tides of men stood still As they collectively exhaled; The stale air trembled Suddenly iron sprang and clashed iron Sound roared from them Shaking the sky; Cracking the earth away to fire The pulsing fever of death Upon death shrouded the sun While the mangled shields Giving way and giving ground Fought nothing except themselves All of time had come to this This single point of disaster When all of man stood still; When none could breathe

Dovina 21-Feb-05/7:52 AM
War is bad. We know that, and unless a poem presents something unusual about it, the thing falls flat.




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