What Can We Say?

Narrative verse

 

What can we say

 

 

The night her sable wings has spread

across this city of the dead.

The silver moon light shimmering

upon white gravestones glimmering.

 

The rows of headstones on parade

recall the sacrifices made.

By those whose bones lie here at rest.

 Some old some young who did their best.

 

Their country called they volunteered

to defend freedom it appeared.

From field and factory they came

 but death would treat them all the same.

 

Young labourers and artisans

were all included in the plans

of generals who seldom knew

 that they were asking men to do

 

tasks which were barely possible.

They proved themselves incapable

of showing flexibility.

Repeating mistakes constantly.

 

Advance, retreat advance again.

The price was high for little gain.

A hundred yards or perhaps two

 of shell pocked mud which stuck like glue.

 

Behind the lines the big guns roared

adding more bodies to the hoard

too many to enumerate.

Who had already met their fate.

 

The general staff still held the view

 that there was nothing else to do

 but bombard with artillery

 and then send in the infantry.

 

Their hide bound minds were tightly closed

to any new tactic proposed

Thanks to the way that they were taught.

The correct way wars should be fought.

 

It took four years to recognise

 it was a futile exercise.

Although we claimed the victory

 I’m not too sure that I agree..

 

Every war grave cemetery

though mute still speaks eloquently.

The price of war is far too high.

What can we answer in reply?

 

14-Mar-08

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

Full of subtle beauty and haunting refrains; sacrifice and slaughter. Truly, where is the victory in numberless graves? After all the eloquence, sometimes silence speaks best. Brilliant message!