He blew a bomb,
There was an endless sob.
He charged his sword,
No more was a peaceful world.
He uttered enough slang,
From the world he received slaps.
To the core, he was a conceit,
The world was under his feet.
Blood for blood-
Often his sins returned.
And began the long reflection,
He was slowly into a transformation.
And no more was his life a vengeance,
His life was full of fragrance.
He played an amorous tune,
To every heart it brought lore.
A war upon man is a curse,
No injurious thought, let us nurse.
Man is but blasting bombs,
He is preparing countless tombs.
Ravi Panamanna
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bombs-and-tombs/
