by Brian Francis
Babylon has fallen her children are turned out,
the pain of defeat is heard in wailing cries;
cries that carry echoes of the loss of hope.
The scarred buildings howl, in the cool night breeze,
as the darkness of the shadows comes alive.
The scarlet hall is barren the color fading fast
Where once were welcomed victors, tall and proud,
returning to the accolades of their own.
Never kneeling, never yielding, nor admitting defeat,
they hide the shame that is theirs to bear.
Posted on 08/05/2003
Copyright © 2023 Brian Francis
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by J. P. Davies on 08/06/03 at 07:14 PM|
Ah, when god in his pride smote down the tower of Babylon...
|Posted by Delilah Coyne on 03/26/06 at 05:32 PM|
That first stanza is startling and could be used to describe the pictures we see today on the evening news. Very descriptive poem.