Plastic soldiers on papier mache landscapes.A Poem by GeeThe "great" war.
Dawn would bring both death and daylight,
as men called to self sacrifice by shrill whistles clambered muddy walls. " For King and country" drowned out by chattering guns and whining shells, that on landing mixed man with mother earth into macabre shapes, shapes no more than stepping stones for those that followed, brothers in arms in blood stained boots charging into hell. The lucky ones would meet instantaneous death, released to heaven, freed, whereas those that survived trudged back to death row, there to wait knowing it was only a matter of time, hours, days, weeks, until their "when" not "if " death met. Thoughts of home filled quiet times, family, friends, loved ones. Loved ones whose faces now with difficulty recalled, if recalled at all, as the constant horrors of man's savagery slowly erased all memories of good, these replaced with flashbacks, nightmares, leading many a good man to break, desertion earning death from friendly fire. And so it continued, year after year, with fat generals pushing plastic soldiers over papier mache landscapes, safe in the knowledge that an endless supply of willing, naive, cannon fodder be ever to hand. No price to big a price to pay in the quest for victory, no matter how hollow. One hundred years later in nations across the globe, the sacrifice of a sacrificed generation will be remembered with blood red poppies and wreaths, but more importantly with eternal thanks, and disbelief... © 2022 GeeReviews
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17 Reviews Added on October 27, 2018 Last Updated on October 16, 2022 AuthorGeeMilton keynes, United KingdomAboutDevoted family man and lover of life. Simply written, easily understood "stuff" for those without code breaking skills. You will NEVER need Google to understand me:) more..Writing
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