Down To The HollowA Poem by Devons
Blood, blood, vainglorious blood
Russet-rivered tracks in molasses of mud Follow me, follow down to the hollow and wallow. Inglorious blood. Carcasses, carts, lost tins and innards Bully-beef guts of squashed caterpillars Urine-dried khaki and trench-foot stench Rain-soaked sweat in a gangrene clench More slugs than snails or puppy-dog tails And the gloom of a thousand grey Mondays. Never once taught in a decade of Sundays In a church-load of sermons and sunny fete fun-days Of marching Christian goodness, brass bands side-by-side Soldiers of children played war-games and died No pride denied for the village green military And their clockwork performance for the boys'-toys artillery. Though you may shield your eyes and remember those sighs As the shells cracked Hoorahs! to the cheers and the cries It's the glimpse of a sun-ray through mustard-smoked skies It's the tragedy of loss, of innocence to lies The rotting-cabbage smell of the flesh and the flies Where no one is winning and anyone dies. You're a coward, you're a killer You're a saviour, you're a death A knee-jerk reaction and a wasted breath You can pray for salvation to your God in His heaven But in one day you'll ruin what He did in seven.
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Added on June 18, 2010Last Updated on May 26, 2015 Tags: first world war, great war, war AuthorDevonsSouth West, United KingdomAboutWE BREAK ACROSS THESE TRAM LINES I DRAW by Haz I draw them with lines of reflections through their steps enough space between them for your space.. more..Writing
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