Cannon-fodder

There is nothing left to feel

the mud and blood have sealed my eyes

there is nothing left to heal

even pain my mind defies

the whistling bombs and rattling guns

no longer frighten me to death

for Death is standing over me

arms folded, waiting my last breath.

To think that all I ever dreamed 

a life of love, and love of life

destroyed by powerful men who schemed

and used the likes of me in strife

They will never face such thoughts

as, smashed and shattered, I face now

The future will my bones expose

exhumed by shiny-breasted plough

and once again the shining sun

will warm my relics in the tilth 

and birds replace the booming gun

forgetting all this bloody filth.

© Rob King 11th November 2016