Roger Taber

Rookie (December 21st 1945 / Kent (UK))

Where No Bells Toll - Poem by Roger Taber

There is a wood
where we played as children
and bluebells grow

When you came home
after seeing the rape of Zimbabwe
we picked bluebells

When you came home
from the killing fields of Iraq
we picked bluebells

When you came home
from the poppy fields of Afghanistan
we picked bluebells

When you came home
telling of monks beaten in Tibet
we picked bluebells

When you came home
from the line of fire on the Gaza Strip
it was in a coffin

There is a wood
where history plays tricks on us
and bluebells grow


Comments about Where No Bells Toll by Roger Taber

  • Rookie Sabrina Jubahar (11/4/2009 5:46:00 AM)

    nicely written - a sad story this is (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 4, 2009



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