A Short Biography Of

A Poem by Ken e Bujold

You needed a little glory
to polish your spurs--a good war
to ride the morning papers all the way
home. Never mind the carnage

of an entire generation, a pithy pitch
of rugby for the boys who walked the hallowed halls
to celebrate a victory “well done” for King
and country. How sweet, and proud, you looked
waving from the carriage the day they welcomed you back home.

When the nation called, you were the one
who answered the phone. The only one
rash enough to think “I know what's best,
what's needed, how to get it done.”
So you thumped and puffed, and buttered all the mums
and dads to once again line up their sons
for another game of mass extinction.

You only had to look
beyond the well measured lines, scan the scent

of all those barely shaven metaphors

to tell you still had the old w***e's bit hard
in your craw. Reading the tired, trite recollections,
(so much arsenic and treacle,) I looked to see
some glimmer of recognition of a life's
incalculable trail of destruction.

But finding none, my hands grew heavy--

and with an unforgiving heart I let the book slip
into the mists of time.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022 Ken e Bujold

Author's Note

Inspired by, not necessarily about, a news item regarding the lifting of a portrait of Winston Churchill from a hotel lobby.
Also, a rose to Chris Shaw for a line she used in a review of another poem of mine, "the trail of destruction" which found a second life here.

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Reviews

W. Barrett Munn

Rather amazing that I guessed this poem was about Winston Churchill the second read through. Not a great historical buff myself, just enough knowledge to recognize a name or two. Even then, I found this engaging and interesting to read. Thank you.
Winston