WAR Poem: Ghosts of Centralia, by Keith Moore

A wretched stench in the village square
Dozens dead without a prayer
Bloody Bill and Johnny Reb
Heed the beast to keep them fed
Those deceased from left to right
What on earth this fateful plight

Trains ablaze down the track
Rhyme then reason fade to black
More blood to shed tomorrow nigh
Widows’ curse to scream then cry
Sons and daughters kneel to pray
Covered in red our blue and gray

Author: poetryfest

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