A Corpse amongst the corpses
in this God forsaken place.
No love to come and hold me,
no lips to kiss my face.
With rigid grasp I hold
the gun my country gave me.
Frozen on my lips the prayer,
I had hoped would save me.
Both a brightly coloured parrot,
that sqawks the coming dawn
and the wondeous scent of eucalypt
are from me ever gone.
Here between the limbless soldiers
in a land that widows dread.
Here I'll dwell forever,
with all the unknown dead.
Until the battlefields are covered,
with a gown of emerald green,
to hide away the image
of the horrors they have seen.
Until war's thunder ceases.
until man's hatred is all gone,
no brightly coloured parrot
shall sqawk the coming of the dawn.
(c) 23/08/2009
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 3:35 PM UTC
A Corpse amongst the corpses
in this God forsaken place.
No love to come and hold me,
no lips to kiss my face.
With rigid grasp I hold
the gun my country gave me.
Frozen on my lips the prayer,
I had hoped would save me.
Both a brightly coloured parrot,
that sqawks the coming dawn
and the wondeous scent of eucalypt
are from me ever gone.
Here between the limbless soldiers
in a land that widows dread.
Here I'll dwell forever,
with all the unknown dead.
Until the battlefields are covered,
with a gown of emerald green,
to hide away the image
of the horrors they have seen.
Until war's thunder ceases.
until man's hatred is all gone,
no brightly coloured parrot
shall sqawk the coming of the dawn.
(c) 23/08/2009
To my father who survived The Western Front in 1917