A Brutal War Poem by Chris Zachariou

We fought a bitter war,
a war of sheer brutality.
She with bows and arrows
and I with songs and wine.

A war I lost

and the wounds and burns
from all the raging battles
still scar my body and soul.

'Woe to the vanquished'
the young queen decreed

and cast me prisoner
in a very private hell.

She threw me crumbs
and I welcomed them.
I was a poor beggar man
starving for her love.

She was my tempestuous green
sea, my all consuming passion.

Now she plays hide
and seek inside my head.
From the room of sorrow
she runs to the hall of pain
but the cruel queen never
ever comes to the den of love.

It's hard to know now why I loved her
harder yet to know that I still do.