Sunday, 10 November 2013

Remembrance Day Poetry.

Okay, I'm really not a poet and that's cool, but I thought it was an idea to try and have a  go. Obviously I really haven't been shot or had a hard life at all and so the tragic stuff is perhaps hard for me to quantify in a way that sounds true.

That's not to mean I won't give it go.

Remembrance Sunday brings the two minute silence for those that have lost their lives in war. I've seen plenty of arguments about the colour of the poppy people wear and why that is an eligible thing to argue about. Personally I see the silence as something that we should all try and take, if it's to think of the tragedy of the lives cut short or the horror of war in general is, of course, up to each individual. Wear what you feel you should and think what you wlll, but take the time to think. I think that's the important bit.

For me I think about it all if I can and hope that perhaps we can become wiser in the future and find the way to grow and move forward  without the need for conflict. Though I doubt that will ever happen. One of the things our species has learned to do very well is find conflict and pursue it.

Anyhow, here's a poem. Feel the need to tell me it's dire? Go for it. You learn through criticism.

We wander, weary and lonely,
Through the worlds where rage and pain ruled,
We stayed long after the exodus,
When the lucky ones got to go home.

We wander, weary and lonely,
Gathering but ever apart,
Facing each other forever,
Rushing the light that has gone.

We wander, weary and lonely,
Remembered but not understood,
Once we were cut down together,
Now we stand always one.

We wander, weary and lonely,
Together but always apart,
The soldierless souls now hell’s what we know,
Our eyes ever turned from the sun.

We wander, weary and lonely,
Watching others gather in rank,
Sent to fall for the will of another,

Never resting but ever we’re still.

There you go, I forge forward proving bad poetry goes hand in hand with war and tragedy.

Tomorrow? More Nanowrimo. 

Dulce Et Decorum Est.  

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