Sometimes Men Need A Posthumous Medal Poem by Mark Heathcote

Sometimes men need a posthumous medal.
For just coming back to a fractured home,
Like an unwanted dog receiving a grisly bone
Sometimes men need more than just time.
So, you apologised and made some sacrifices.
'Did you, ' make some amends, but lest we forget
Your service wasn't always honourable.
And there weren't a lot of peacekeeping missions.
Not that anyone can recall,
Not that I can recall, particularly.
Although there was that time you came to bed early
Whispering sweet nothings in my ear
Before falling asleep, snoring like a filthy warthog,
What the blazes do you think you're doing I said.
The jig is up cock. thought I'd give up
‘Not on your nelly, thought I'd just watch prime-time telly.''
What the artifice is this? A poem in prose?
Blank verse, there's not much worse.
Then a man in a string vest singing poetry,
Then sleeping like a pig in muck.
Darling, sling your l hook.
'Posthumous medals indeed.'
It's we women who planted that proverbial seed.