Keith O.J. Hunt Poet Rhyme

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 May 5, 2014 at 11:15 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 May 2, 2014 at 5:46 PM This is not what I was expecting. This should be read during Remeberance Day. Well expressed! Lest we forget!

Mel Merrill May 2, 2014 at 3:38 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 May 2, 2014 at 2:06 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