Poetry Archives

Although my blood I’ve shed
          In war’s red wrath,
Oh how I darkly dread
          Its aftermath!
Oh how I fear the day
          Of my release,
When I must face the fray
          Of phoney peace!

When I must fend again
          In labour strife;
And toil with sweat and strain
          For kids and wife.
The world is so upset
          I battled for,
That grimly I regret
          The peace of war.

The wounds are hard to heal
          Of shell and shard,
But O the way to weal
          Is bitter hard!
Though looking back I see
          A gory path,
How bloody black can be
          War’s Aftermath!