Life to his Kind was a Game of ChanceA Poem by Tomás Ó CárthaighStory of my granduncle who faught in WWI & WWII, possibly against his own sons in the latter!!!Adventures sake Brought the young sons of Erin Into uniform Thoughts of great glory Among shot and shell in hell Of the battlefield To return to home To kisses of loved ones And relieved mothers As hero's of old Of whom they heard as children At their mothers knee. It was not to be So many fell wounded and dead The latter lucky. A few unscathed bar A shrapnel wound to the leg A bootload of blood. Some found love and lust In Fruleins welcoming arms Seduced by victors. To fight yet again Same side, a new uniform Maybe faced their own sons. Their own flesh and blood Under enemies high flag As Germans were raised. ========================= Hiding maybe the fact That their fathers they were from The enemies side And as proud Aryan Uniform they wore and fought For land and for blood. Germanys honour Faith, Fuher and flag, they stood Listened to Hitler Hiding the fact that No German were they but were Half one of the Gael And with weapons they faced The fire of the enemy One who was father But father does not Matter to such men of arms Who fight for Fuher Sometimes I I think of those two young boys Raised by grandparents In a Rhine banks shop Their mother who died in birth So the boys could live To hold guns to fight And to face their own father On a field of battle. Strange... such it is life Its twists and its turns weave odd Patterns in lives. © 2009 Tomás Ó CárthaighFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorTomás Ó CárthaighRenmore, Galway, Ireland, An Roinne Mór, Gallaimh, Eire, IrelandAboutTen years on this site... a quick decade, and an age in another way... Flanagan and the Lampost The Novena, some Drama and Midge Ure in Galway Fiddling at Longford Donkey Innovat.. more..Writing
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