The Warriors

With bleeding toes
And callused feet,
Broken backs
Grasping for breath.

Dragging heavy sacks
Their bodies dripping wet.

Weary but happy,
The warriors return.

They will laugh and sing.
And enjoy their meal.

For they have survived
The long ordeal.

They will celebrate
For they live today.

But they all know,
They must fight another day.

Musings Poetry


It has been long since I crossed ninety.
Even though time flies, my age seems to stand still.
There is not much in my kitty,
For the void which I am desperate to fill.

I toss and turn in my sack.
Voices all around me scream, shout and yell,
None as loud as the one within.

But amid those painful sounds of hell,
One little voice assures, calms and soothes,
All will be well,
You must fight back.