Arms Conference
Well, I hate to admit, but my rhetorical writing skills are suffering from acute inertia. I guess the prospect of airing my (like I’m so important) views went a little rancid. I’ll post a poem instead.
Arms Conference
Men died that you might sit at tables
Within some stately mirrored hall,
And there concoct your dreary fables
Of “Peace for all.”
Your wives disport in silks and sables
Designed to meet the worldly eye
As you sit at your polished tables
That men may die.
by Walter Shea
artist13o said,
October 31, 2008 at 4:59 pm
It’s a little miserable. Ah well. That suits our dear, short Hannah well, does it not? Just kidding, my morbid cousin!