Those who gave their lives in the course of freedom were perhaps ill served by those who sent them on their way.
There are those who go to war and those who send them.
War is not a field of flowers, but the folly of mankind and mans inhumanity.
Not for them the sights and sounds of battle.
Pin stripes rather than the weather worn Khaki they scorn,
Sensitive ears have never heared a dying mans rattle.
Closely guarded, the easy life, with easy pickings of Pinner,
Cosmopolitan and blind to the needs of those they order.
Not for them the sacrifice behind a Sopwiths spinner,
Eyes that never witnessed mankind's folly in mindless slaughter.
Rolled umbrellas did they take to deflect that unfortunate rain,
The 8.30 to Euston may be late again, more troops on the move?
They never see exposed, beneath a riddled helmet, an exposed brain,
Unaware of the smells of trench life, carbolic acid, cordite and blood.
The folly of war identifies those who are sacrificed by those who rule.
Wrapped in the flag of patriotic fervour were they sent to fight a 'just'war.
Those who send men to their death may be regarded as cruel and callous,
That cruelty never registered the sights that others saw.
Many would have told of the horror but never did.
The young officer shedding tears as his men fell before a machine gun rattle,
The sergeant shouting encouragement to trembling soldiers,
The nurse in the dressing station waiting for the next influx of casualties,
The 'conchy' objector risking his life as a stretcher bearer,
The mother of three sons sacrificed in the Somme mud.
We still ask why?
Poetry by Sid Gardner
Read 903 times
Written on 2014-11-14 at 03:15
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There are those who go to war and those who send them.
War is not a field of flowers, but the folly of mankind and mans inhumanity.
Poppy Fields Remembered
There they stand, proud and straight as a field of corn,Not for them the sights and sounds of battle.
Pin stripes rather than the weather worn Khaki they scorn,
Sensitive ears have never heared a dying mans rattle.
Closely guarded, the easy life, with easy pickings of Pinner,
Cosmopolitan and blind to the needs of those they order.
Not for them the sacrifice behind a Sopwiths spinner,
Eyes that never witnessed mankind's folly in mindless slaughter.
Rolled umbrellas did they take to deflect that unfortunate rain,
The 8.30 to Euston may be late again, more troops on the move?
They never see exposed, beneath a riddled helmet, an exposed brain,
Unaware of the smells of trench life, carbolic acid, cordite and blood.
The folly of war identifies those who are sacrificed by those who rule.
Wrapped in the flag of patriotic fervour were they sent to fight a 'just'war.
Those who send men to their death may be regarded as cruel and callous,
That cruelty never registered the sights that others saw.
Many would have told of the horror but never did.
The young officer shedding tears as his men fell before a machine gun rattle,
The sergeant shouting encouragement to trembling soldiers,
The nurse in the dressing station waiting for the next influx of casualties,
The 'conchy' objector risking his life as a stretcher bearer,
The mother of three sons sacrificed in the Somme mud.
We still ask why?
Poetry by Sid Gardner
Read 903 times
Written on 2014-11-14 at 03:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Ivan R |