Poetry Blogs (2013, sweatheart)

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MEAL TIME

my mother sez im mad, for seeing whats in this poem. i wish all of the wars would stop. simple...
 
Meal Time
An army squad walked down the road. It could have been any road with any army in any war. The men quietly grumbled about sore feet, about the light rain and grey sky, about missing a meal. Above all they complained about missing home and their sweethearts. But a grumbling so...

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artillerydeathsoldiers in warsweatheartwild dogs

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