Anthem for Doomed Youth What passing bells for those who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns, Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons, No mockeries for them from prayers and bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, – The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes, The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds. Wilfred Owen
How can one read that poem and not have a tear or two in ones eye or a lump in one throat. In memory of the fallen soldier and the many young men forced to fight old men’s battles, I am posting a few of the poems I have written about war and the price that youth have to pay for the greed of others.
Please visit my Facebook page where I am posting a few more of the poems I have written over the years on war its burden and cost.