| Peace eludes man; yet he can keep a fan on flames. And then comes war; cannons roar like god Thor in rage. Still, young men die; children cry as bombs ply, maiming. And peace seems rare; War can glare long and tear living. 12 Lines Form: Than Bauk* Rhythm: 4-4-4 Writer’s Cramp 4-30-20 *(Rhyme off syllable 4 in line one, to third syllable in line two, to second syllable in line three.) |