War-Usage.

 

 

War-Usage.

 

Let us remember
all imprisoned birds, in order to sing
must first visualize
winging to learn freedom's reception 
from refused peace so
into war's din young marchers strode
whistling then sang
as loaded missiles whined over-head.

Without prior warning a boy started
quietly, others
joined in and soon a tunelessly loud
number brave lads
bellowed refrains into shell's flak-fire
at going down
behind black hills in yellow dust ring
the day's dying
sun, soiled by guns' aftermath gloom.

 

Their singing lifted to smoky horizons
with young undaunted
courage and when nearing gun-blast
those bawled explosions
yelled dare and challenge to bedlam's
fire-drenched trenches
as defiance met Godless battle intent.
  

Youth's face told when death screams 
wept for help finer
resistance by fighting tears with wails
of loud vocalizing,
lads' fearless chorus of bawdy ballads
went on to defy
battleground rattles until breath failed
and young songbirds
when in last thoughts of home-land at
some closing moment
let fight cease with throe's final breath.

 

Freedom's fight over
for immature fallen meant willing effort
by out-singing was done.
Red as fresh poppies was lifeblood then
and in all war-usage to come. 

Let us remember..... and never forget.