I was looking through some old files when I found the following poem. I'd largely forgotten about it. It was published way back in 1992 in Midnight Zoo, Volume 2, Issue 5. I used to write quite a few rhyming poems but haven't done one in ages now. Thought I'd just run it here.
A SOUND TO WAR
The bull roarers,
they are roaring
A frightful thing
to hear
And the mothers
know too soon
They'll hold the
still ones dear
The horns, they
are a'wailing
And the
spearheads glitter long
But it's nothing
like the glory
To be told about
in song
The bagpipes,
they are skirling
As the widow's
brood is borne
Down coomb into
the valley
Where last the
sheep were shorn
The mortars, they
are booming
And the
shrapnel's in the grass
Down in the
jungle deltas
When will he see
his lass
The jets, they
are a'screaming
Above the
pockmarked waste
And the targets
go down easy
You'll never see
his face
The silence is
astounding
Where warriors
were at work
In a place of
bone and blood
Where all but
ravens shirk
----
----
