When A Poet Reads A Poet War Poem Poem by Terence George Craddock

sometimes when a poet reads a poet war poem;
a few words phrases resonate in heart mind
spontaneous spark in wow factor wonder and thus
it was when reading the poem 'All Quiet On
The Western Front', by the poet Bill Cantrell;
with the imagery a broken butterfly coming
to its end while time asked the question will
torn broken fragments butterfly be remembered;

tumbling in the wind a personification of all soldiers;
in trenches in the great war caught in draft fighting
against their will an afront to beauty life nature torn;
fallen rotten forsaken lives there is no moral right
or wrong in rifles rapid rattle machine guns buzz saw
storms of lead chewing into souls innocent beautified;

young male flesh lives while artillery hail stone shells;
thunder into all foul caught flesh ripping it into chunks
ribbons of flesh no surgeons can put back together again
and so it was among skulls bodies built into muddy trenches
mud reason red washing huge human eating rats plagues;
festive lice with tasty rivers of blood as daily morsels fed
up to feast upon in all death disease hours in death ripped
apart sacrifice meat human slaughtered cows feasts laid;

out at vermin altar tables no glory no sacred services;
for vast numbers of bodies torn asunder where no grass
grows while shrapnel snows sharp bursting metal chunks;
splinters into dead dying living flesh massaged in past
politics bitter power plays games of death ask not for whom
the bell tolls it tolls for volunteers draftees soldiers civilians;

men women children all foul caught;
in pain trauma trawling death nets
as war echoes hero themed sung into;
ever new so called civilized modern
technological ages to repeat folly crimes;


Terence George Craddock (Afterglows Echoes Of Starlight)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock