Bombs Like Rain
by

Richard S. Jorgensen


Bombs like rain
fall from the sky
Round ones, square ones
fill your eye
Seventeen birds to load
don’t be slow
Twenty-eight babies each
load’em and go

Winging o’er the rich
green land
Never get to see the pain
behind the plan
We cruise the heavens
tis our goal
Nap the bastards
charcoal glow

Little girl sitting
on the river bank
Finds my gift
her corpse, it stank
Hundreds more I’ve sown
in vain
Children find them
bloody stains
I hear them crying in
my sleep
A sleep that’s never
very deep
I really wish that
I could cry
Bombs like rain
fall from the sky.


Another poem to ease the pain.