Ghosts crying still for peace,
Long gone and buried deep,
Their voices deep from underneath,
They still for peace do weep,
No one sees their tears, or hears their voice,
They never wept they say, but fought by choice,
For country and for flag,
How proud we are, of our boys,
Drops of blood and tears so still,
Rivers run neath foreign soil,
With iron guns and brazen will,
Their fighting tilled the reapers toil,
Flesh and mangled thought now dust,
Though ghost now hand in hand they walk,
Cry on high, spill blood of man no more we must,
Listen, can you hear them talk,
Different tongues of mothers love,
Different still, but one in death,
No Babel tower there above,
No flowers foreign on their wreath,
Weary still and weary so, they cry as one,
No one hears but trumpets blearing,
For those the wars have won,
Red poppies on their mourning wearing,
Few alone has heard their call,
For bones not stir the dust,
Still in honour of them all,
To hear their voice we must,
Lives they were, not cenotaphs,
To rally round, not loves contempt,
Honour while alive they were,
Instead of bones and stones unkempt,
Flags don’t care what soil they rest,
Nor do bones as dry as dust,
If green or olive dressed,
Or guns and gear that rust,
Bertha loved her son, as so did Meg,
For passions though they only wept,
Their passions not forgiveness beg?
With beating drums inept,
With ribbons buttons silver cross,
Or golden stars on their labels,
Salute, the ghostly pass of armies’ dross
With fife and drums and peeling bells,©11/11/2010
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So here and now I wonder while we play with our death's dice?
Two sides to every coin yet everybody spends
Like drunken soldiers on their leave
Knowing life simply depends
On luck and courage and sometimes skill
When will we ever learn
That someday soon there's no one left
To dump us in our urn
Patrick
John
Nor do bones as dry as dust,
If green or olive dressed,
Or guns and gear that rust
So true and so sad that man has learned nothing when it comes to perpetrating war and conflict. Thank you for sharing this apt and timely write, Jasmin. Love and peace,
Regis