PICTURES OF MANY WARS - anti-war poem
Posted: Sun May 07, 2006 10:59 am
PICTURES OF MANY WARS.
By ROBERT DAVIDSON.
Many more from war are returning now
In varnished wood boxes each quite alone;
Boxes nicely draped with flags, ready to occupy
A polished white mansion of marble or stone.
Buildings fall in thick columns of smoke, as
Bombs drop death on each son and daughter,
Midst the roar of guns, hits the innocent,
Out-does even King Herod’s cold-blooded slaughter.
Despite doing war’s dark and bloody deeds,
The ordinary soldier’s quite a nice bloke;
Destroying towns, raping women, atrocities;
I guess war’s desolation is just no joke.
Prudently the Church remains quite neutral
As Cain coldly dispatches his brother’s hide;
While the President safe in the White House bunker
Watches the war on TV - as the world’s wounds gape wide.
Having copped a nice bit of red hot steel,
I heard the war would be ending quite soon;
They were taking us boys off the field on stretchers
We’ll be home for Christmas, we’ll sleep till noon.
Long had I feared I would never come back,
Thought I’d be laid out cold; with many dead by me.
Being wounded, I dreaded my return, knowing
How strange and different it all would be.
Now the war was over, peace did me wrong,
Came home to wash the car and mow the lawns;
I learned while overseas, just doing my bit,
The wife had given me a nice pair of horns.
Still war-songs yet roar. I’ve lived too long,
Don’t want this world’s mad wars of weary woe;
Shouting win the day, crying hooray; just because
War’s dire law says man’s every man’s foe.
Poppies blaze red where so many lie,
I guess we came to the war-game, only to die.
Copyright 2005 http://www.robertdavidson.blogsource.com
By ROBERT DAVIDSON.
Many more from war are returning now
In varnished wood boxes each quite alone;
Boxes nicely draped with flags, ready to occupy
A polished white mansion of marble or stone.
Buildings fall in thick columns of smoke, as
Bombs drop death on each son and daughter,
Midst the roar of guns, hits the innocent,
Out-does even King Herod’s cold-blooded slaughter.
Despite doing war’s dark and bloody deeds,
The ordinary soldier’s quite a nice bloke;
Destroying towns, raping women, atrocities;
I guess war’s desolation is just no joke.
Prudently the Church remains quite neutral
As Cain coldly dispatches his brother’s hide;
While the President safe in the White House bunker
Watches the war on TV - as the world’s wounds gape wide.
Having copped a nice bit of red hot steel,
I heard the war would be ending quite soon;
They were taking us boys off the field on stretchers
We’ll be home for Christmas, we’ll sleep till noon.
Long had I feared I would never come back,
Thought I’d be laid out cold; with many dead by me.
Being wounded, I dreaded my return, knowing
How strange and different it all would be.
Now the war was over, peace did me wrong,
Came home to wash the car and mow the lawns;
I learned while overseas, just doing my bit,
The wife had given me a nice pair of horns.
Still war-songs yet roar. I’ve lived too long,
Don’t want this world’s mad wars of weary woe;
Shouting win the day, crying hooray; just because
War’s dire law says man’s every man’s foe.
Poppies blaze red where so many lie,
I guess we came to the war-game, only to die.
Copyright 2005 http://www.robertdavidson.blogsource.com