CONSEQUENCES OF WAR
A Trilogy of Poems by Colin F. Jones and Nancy L. Meek
Part 1:
AFTERMATH
The land is deformed potholed and dead,
And bodies are strewn there all over
The cannons have stilled the wounded have bled,
And the grass has all died with the clover.
Along the foul bunds the barbed wire rusts,
Smashed weapons and sand bags lie wasted,
The blood on the bodies with earthen dirt crusts
As it dries on their skin as though pasted.
Mangled up tanks and trenches collapsed
Back packs and Helmets and boxes,
Cordite the night as daylight has lapsed,
To hide the destruction that shocks us
The gardens are filled with crosses of white,
Where the graves are carefully tended,
It's an awesome collection of savageries might,
The remains of dead soldiers remembered.
And we, who survived to remember the war,
Who saw all our comrades there dying,
Reflect on their deaths and the horror we saw,
As we stand here unbeaten and crying.
The bugle is blowing the wind and the rain
All the flags at half-mast are flying
As we gather ourselves and hiding the pain
Stand steadfastly ever defying
We've asked all the questions ranted and raved,
But our comrades are still busy dying,
But their names on the wall all elegantly paved,
Will ensure that we never stop trying.
The war is not over when the soldier returns,
There are widows and wounded; the shattered,
He still has a duty; new skills he must learn,
Lest he think that none of it mattered.
We remember the dead but those who came home,
Need care and tolerance forever,
For no man should suffer such anguish alone
Not ever, not ever, not ever.
©Copyright 16 January 2002 by Colin F. Jones
Part 2:
WHAT CAN WE OFFER?
We'll offer them shoulders to cry on
Let them know we really do care
Give them love, as amour, to fight on
With promises we'll always be there
For, indeed, no man should suffer alone
In the aftermath of battle so grim
On the trail of tears leading to home
Seeing no light at the tunnel's end
Many feel their sacrifices were in vain
The guilt of survival raining on any dreams
The roll of the dice confounding the brain
Chemical warfare gaining on them, it seems
No, the war is not over by a long shot
Effecting the veteran forevermore
Informing those who saw battle not
Who only imagine the blood, guts and gore
Therefore, here we stand at the ready
Extending a hand of hope through the air
Praying our love will hold them steady
As they deal with their loss and despair
Immaculate crosses, flags at half-mast
Greet brothers bearing their pain
Buddies-in-waiting, resurrecting the past
Their masks holding fast in the rain
©Copyright February 24, 2002 by Nancy L. Meek
Part 3:
REPLY TO: WHAT CAN WE OFFER?
Those who are desperate and lonely,
Those who are crippled and chaired,
Those who have no one to care for,
Those who have still not repaired,
They are the unseen who suffer,
Lying in alleys and lanes,
Drinking whiskey and port for their supper,
Trying to drown their debilitating pains.
They are the shattered and fallen,
The unloved the scorned and the shamed,
Who were born with the defects birth gave them,
Now are by them crippled and lamed.
Who have no one who cares much, I fancy,
Such as good hearted people like Nancy.
'Tis just a shack some thirty miles from town,
Along a track of potholes formed by rain,
The trees are solemn all there gazing down,
Upon this sanctuary of memories and of pain.
Here lives a hermit a solitary man and strange,
Who cries at night and hides throughout the day
A Viet Nam Veteran a man who cannot change;
He has no wife no children with whom to play.
None cherish him; none give him love and hope,
None seek him out to share his loss of trust,
His torment is his alone with which to cope,
On the track there are no footprints in the dust.
Some lose their way and need a guiding hand,
But they who help sometimes don't understand.