Hundred Marchers

In a minute the hundred men march and stray,
Then they become suddenly scared,
Annoyed at the gathering before them,
Open them then, open their fellowship.
Do not stare in space and apologize,
Do not kill just now, but be a cooking
Man, with sudden surprises of oil.
Against the forces the hundred stare,
Scared and bloodied, like blood of the river
As far as the eye can see and watch.
In one hour the business ends
With a truce, as war ends this way.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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