Aron Jacob Poet Rhyme Royal

The Grounds of War

In time, a faded letter turned to ash,
dampened teak now acrid and abused,
a timeless quarrel's scene, an ancient clash,
one paroxysm fierce, two mastheads fused.
Subsumed in fortune's cast of reel and ruse,
blended masses nursing wounds and fears
ne'er comprehending how it ended here.

What forced each flag to wield its harshest hand,
yet cause to happenstance may seldom look,
wild thoughts untempered, soldiers of the grand,
nostalgia or clean might for pride mistook.
Fair warning to the hungry, e'en wisest book
makes not the calm of vernal noon's delight
worth more than ashen spoils from the fight.

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Stephen Parker March 24, 2011 at 3:43 PM Many modern wars begin because we lack statesmen, like Bismarck, who can pursue the national interest with planning and a keen forsight. Bismarck knew that the enemy of your enemy was a friend. Evil has to be caged and tamed. We caged Khadaffi, and we partially tamed him (cancelled his nuclear program, and partially compensated Lockerbie victims), but now we have unleashed the tiger. No statesmen with forsight to step in and negotiate a solution or use credible threats to restrain the tiger.