Friday, November 12, 2021

Reader Submitted Poetry: Glory


The War Suite - 4: Glory

Another year has passed again,
he hung on his crutch in the driving rain.
The parade of young ones marched by,
with music and banners that filled the sky.
Quietly, since there was nothing to say,
the one legged man, met up again that day.

He was the last of the expeditionary force,
expected to be present, of course.
They knew his number, rank and name,
they said that the enemy was to blame.
The mayor, from the tribune, told the same old story,
ending with words like: Sacrifice! Honor! and GLORY!

Glory! What the HELL is that worth?
Glory! That is nothing but HELL on earth.
Glory! I was lucky, I just lost my leg.
Glory! My friend was found like a broken egg.
He was GLORIOUSLY torn apart by a gunpowder keg.
Don't give me that about HONOR and GLORY!
Mayor, I want to hear you say: We are so very sorry..

/Laura to war victims, who are forgotten and neglected
March 5, 2019

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