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  The Kraken Poem by Alfred Tennyson Below the thunders of the upper deep; Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee About his shadowy sides: above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height; And far away into the sickly light, From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green. There hath he lain for ages and will lie Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die. About Alfred Lord Tennyson  Lord Alfred Tennyson was born in 1809 in Somersby, Lincolnshire, England. At the age of twelve, written his first epic poem that consisted of 6,000 lines. In 1827 Tennyson attended Trinity College, Cambridge. He and his brother, Charles, co-published a book of poems titled,  Poems by Two Brothers.  Tennyson ded

  War is kind - Stephan Crane Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind.   Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom— A field where a thousand corpses lie.   Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind.   Swift, blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie.   Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind.   Aut

  Explosion Vivimarie Vanderpoorten   On the day the truckload Of explosives Drove into the central bank, For a long second Time staggered All sounds of a workday morning In the city Even the cawing of the crows Merged into a solitary Boom Prism of fire and fury   Lives ended Eyes were blinded Retired wage earners Collecting provident funds Were crushed Under brick and glass The nearby vegetable seller’s Hands were severed Like cucumbers, Women in sari Held their eyeballs in their palms And blood spattered The streets, Erasing memory.   Out of the broken window Of a damaged car Dead driver The radio blared, unscathed On a commercial break A man’s plesant voice Announced That big or small, insurance Protects them all.           Vivimarie Vanderpoorten Vivimarie Vanderpoorten is a Sri Lankan poet.   She was born in Kandy and brought up in Kurunegala.    She is a BA graduate from the University of