The Great War
The Great War
He pointed at us from a posters paint
Washed away the thoughts of truth
Many sick things in those days of death
Feathers for those who did not go
A bullet for those that became sick in war
A wandering crowd in killing fields
Oh for those Daffodils to cheer the way
Places lived that the rats avoided
A stench that purveyed the scenes
Those of muddy walls that gave death
No bouquets of flowers just a whiff of gas
A friend mangled and left to die just there
I would gladly forget, but can only recall his stare
A strange look of peace in those blooded eyes
As if he had found his family there in that hole
Forgive me brother I did not know
That as the battle raged we lost you so
Then to know that I may have stood on your pyre
Made my memory so sharp without fear
I tremble now to know these things
This only happened at a later time
When the fields re-grew over battles time
Where flowers of blood have taken your place
You have now only a carved stone obelisk
In our village that I think of as our families home
Know that it has been near fifty years
Since you left, now they made pastures new
You would think that they would hear you cry
No more wars where all the young men die
If only, if only, this were true.
Copyright © Ian Howard | Year Posted 2015
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