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The Foxes In Their Holes

The foxes in their holes..... peer out beyond night, they settled in the nape of the land; the accursed bugs..... and living thriving graves ---- the soldier, has inherited death (his hand)..... The holes held the foxes, the lighted trenches and tombs; bold as beasts in battle and fearless to morbid grip (cowards be they not), Though always in death mother on the lips ---- always her always she..... and many sorry's, and regrets **This poem is in no way a slam against soldiers, but war**

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Robert Lindley

Date: 5/5/2014 11:15:00 PM

A GREAT ONE.. Many lie buried in the very holes they dug for protection. Artillery blasts that covered them and ended their days on earth. My brother's best friend was killed in battle in Vietnam. No words he was blown to bits by a land mine. War is horror on parade..

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 5/2/2014 5:46:00 PM

This is not what I was expecting. This should be read during Remeberance Day. Well expressed! Lest we forget!

Mel Merrill

Date: 5/2/2014 3:38:00 AM

Hey Keith. Imagine a world without war...sounds like a Lennon song. That would be something, but it's a good thing we kicked Hitler's butt. See ya soon, my friend :-)

Keith O.J. Hunt
Date: 5/2/2014 2:06:00 PM

Yah, we sure did kick Hitler's butt! My father fought in Sicily and Italy, infantry; he always mentioned the dying on the battlefields and always 'Mom... mama. mother...' it struck me how tragic this is