Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The havoc of war
a Smoking and burning
enemy battle tank
stands stopped in its tracks,
like a metal coffin
with its occupants
still hatched in.
a BRDM enemy armoured car
is encased by leaping flames
and the phosphoric burning smell
is churning in my guts.
Some dead Cuban soldiers lay
cut from the stem
mangled in blood and guts
and the machinegun is still chattering
and I wish to be,
in another place and time
than to be a part
of this slaughtering.
a Bleating Gemsbok rushes past
trying to outrun the flames,
that leap through the field
while the machines of war
brings death to the living.
Shot after shot is fired
at killing range
and it’s hot and deafening
inside the Ratel,
but the wind
brushes through my hair
where I stand
in the top hatch
and trees and bushes
sweep past
as if screened in a movie house.
Enemy armour keeps exploding
and my voice sounds strange
and unfamiliar to me,
while I give directions
for the next killing.
poem
by
Gert Strydom
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black