My Dad In The British Expeditionary Force Poem by Hugh Mitchell

My Dad In The British Expeditionary Force



I study the relentless sweep
of tanks through the Ardennes
the sickle-cut, the counter-thrusts,
retreats, delays and then

I try to see a single man
swept up in others' schemes
sense of adventure quickly lost
tortured lifelong by dreams.

Not just the corpses bobbing in the surf
testify those who died -
survivors also, lives unmade,
shift restless in that bloody Dunkirk tide.

Sunday, July 5, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: warfare
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jazib Kamalvi 14 November 2020

Write comment. Such a nice poem, Hugh M. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks

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Hugh Mitchell

Hugh Mitchell

Coventry, England
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