The evening sunset fades
Through yellow, orange and red
To purples and deep blues and
Finally, swallowed by a heavy darkness,
It slips into the black hole
Of
Night,
The brightness of this once jolly adventure
Is now tarnished and spoiled.
This great European vacation,
'Autumn in France -
Home by Christmas! '
Lies in ruins on barren fields
Do your thing
For king
And country …
The allure of a glorified
Saturday night, pub closing-time scrap
Between the boys – all flourish and finished in five minutes,
Is now a reality
Of blood and bone and intestines
And half of a face and no legs
And cries and screams for mummy
Desperate and frantic
And pain-filled
And worst of all, there is no end in sight
Just hell-filled days
And hell-filled nights
Yet one more call to go over the top,
One more scramble up the sandbagged wall
One more silent prayer as life is on the line
Heads up - look to the front.
But he doesn't see it.
And consciousness fades
Through yellow, orange and red
To purples and deep blues and
Finally, swallowed by a heavy darkness,
He slips into the black hole
Of
Death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An amazing depiction of the fading glamor of war. Superbly worded with amazing imagery. Great write, Bob! Brian