Bombs whistle an unforgettable tune
as they drop their heavy payload
so unaware of their fleeting task.
In trenches they fight the good fight
no, not to kill, but to try
to stay alive
as gas floats bitter through
the air, unaware of its intention.
Did the old Lords, Barons
Brigadiers and Generals
fighting from safety
of their war-games rooms on
table-tops with metal tanks and men
ever realise these same things
they picked up and dropped
were made of flesh and blood
dying in the mud on foreign fields
enriching anything in future times
of peace which would grow from
the futility of it all as they
remained behind forever
with the enemy.
There is no glory to be found in war
only sleepless nights of guilt
which never ends for those who’ve
taken life and have to live with it.
Sad to know on both sides of the line
the toffs all believed these
precious lives were so
© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved
*As most of you know by now, I served in the army in the 1970’s. I’m a patriot and not a pacifist by any means but, life (and freedom) is so precious. We need to change the way we live before we, as a species bring about our own global demise.
You’d think we would have learned from two world wars by now and have made an effort to change our ways but, we haven’t learned a thing, except how to kill more humans, with less damage to infrastructure. We are a sad species, really.
Shared with Magpie Tales #143 Artwork of Felix Vallotton: Verdun