Poem Hunter
War And Peace
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War And Peace

The artist
Brushes the matted surface
With blotches of red.
Canon fire given the color yellow;
Death given the color, the paleness of blue.

The easel
Is planted in an era of peace;
The wooden legs
Given the color olive-green.

The paint dries but reality doesn't.
The painting
Shows very little semblance
To the degree of terror and blood-shed.

As the black clouds
Begin to gather,
He mummifies war
In a flag of white cloth.

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Comments (1)

That last stanza, in the context you've created, is very chilling. Interesting ideas/metaphors about art and reality.