Torn and Ragged

Wow, a really nice poem. Pretty epic and I love the message behind it, war Is always a timeless theme. I like the repartition of the first and second line , although you did break it in the last stanza. I don't really think repartition is really need in a poem like this but it really helps link everything together. I feel as it your where pulling the reader back to the start with every stanza , which is a good thing as it allows the stanzas to stand on their own and as a part of a group.

I like feel of this, although the rhythm and I don't mind the things the other reviewers have pointed out. I think the feel and abruptness of some of the lines add to the message and meaning.

Clouds rolling in as
those who remain
reclaim their place amongst
the living, and dare not
forget to check the dead

I very much like the theme as well. It's a question for the world to think on, to answer. Not sure of the structure; in some places it felt like the rhythm hit a bump of some kind. But I like how you used the title tag line to start every paragraph. Keeps the focus. Great topic, great start.

Okay, so first off, I don't really know much about poetry, so I could be completely wrong, but here's my opinion.

Torn and ragged
battle flags
fluttering in the wind,
as smoke billows up
into the unforgiving sky.
Clouds rolling in as
those who remain
reclaim their place amongst
the living, and dare not
forget to check the dead, [These lines are really choppy. They seem just like a sentence chopped up in random places to make sections for a stanza. It doesn't really flow well, you should try rewording it. The last two lines in the stanza seem to flow a bit better, though.]
least the enemy
surprises them again.

Torn and ragged
battle flags
marring the air,
as the smoke clears and
the battlefield is revealed. [Again, this is like a chopped up sentence. It interrupts the flow of the poem. I think the 'and' is part of the reason, it's like stopping in the middle of a sentence, then starting in the middle at the next line.]
With so many dead
and dying,
who truly won the war?
And who truly lost?
Was the price too dear
to pay? Or too little? [I would either add the 'to pay?' to the line above it, or let the 'Or too little?' have its own line.]
No one can be sure.

Torn and ragged,
men rise up
and stumble back
to their homes in the
light of the coming winter. [This is very choppy and does not flow very well at all. You should try to make each line complete a thought, and each next one just adds to it. Sort of, it's hard for me to explain.]
Ash and snow, mingling together
as they slowly drift back down.
Dark red and brown mar
the exspanse expanse of white
in the coming light of sunrise.
Was the price too much, or too little
to pay in the coming dawn? [The ending is a little clumsy. It is a good thought to end on, but you could try rewording it a little differently]