Bright flags wave
all along the way.
Memories
of caissons
roll by to the beat
of drums.
White horses
mounted and ridden
briskly
trot clip clop.
Their shoed hooves make sharp
reports
all up and
down Main Street where brass
bands play
the same tunes
year after year af-
ter year.
No one plays
the music of peace.
Oh dear.
No coffins
are paraded past us.
How come?
We all see
tens of millions of
coffins
once we op-
en the his'try books.
Just look
and you see
the sun is blood red
today.
Yes, an' kids
beat their plowshares in-
to swords
and utter
shouts to watch more war
movies.
A wonderfully structure piece John. The economy you employ has much to be admired in it and works well for the way that this piece is put across. You portray an ordinary event that arises from extraodinary happenings in a n unpartisan manner, without the hyperbole that sometimes adorns anti-war writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear John, wars are such a waste of time and resourses, if only the money spent could be used for the benefit of mankind, John i live in the Northern Territory of Australia (Darwin} i am of American Indian descent, i will read more of your work Osceola.