A rabbit’s hole a landmine set to blow,
twigs are prodding bayonets that force “GO”.
Plastic bottles are mortar rounds fired,
a crumbling brick a bomb, primed and wired.
The thrush’s birdsong is a screaming shell,
A churned up puddle, the Somme’s muddy hell.
Crystallised breath, smoke from a burning fire,
spider’s webs are tangled strings of barbed wire.
Pinecones are a pin pulled hand grenade,
Fallen planks of wood, are trench digging spades.
Littered leaves are corpses, machine gunned down,
A trodden ant’s nest, a fire stormed town.
The stump of a tree, a captured outpost,
Creaks in the night, a restless soldier’s ghost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I llike this poem. I like how it compares the beauty of all things found in nature and compares them to the atrocious ugly implements of war. Very nicely written.