In year of the farm
They beat their swords to ploughshares
Refraining from harm.
With pruning hooks adorning spears
They buried war in the rain
In freedom’s reign.
In the year of the gun
They weren’t quite sure they’d won
They argued law.
Words kill and more
They whispered, shouted till
They’d had their fill
Nations shall not lift up swords
Unless they’re ours.
Carrying the art of war in their arms
Destroying field and farm
They buried truth and promise under harm.
In the year of the end
Friend had the right, bore arms
And ended them.
Written for ReadWritePoem #24 based on a well-known phrase