What Price the Shame.

I could tell you tales of love and hate
Those of hero's and cowards to
Of those that stood and faced the Hun
And now are only few
Of trenchs wet and black with mud
Their greatcoats green with mould
Who fought with courage on the field
In blood and bitter cold
These men and some, no more then boys
Gave up their lives for us
That now lie still in mother earth
Their weapons turned to rust
Those that survived this nightmare
Gained respect a right they earned
Treated now with such contempt
Because they're old and now infirm
Figures youngsters ridicule
To rob, abuse and blame
If not for them they would have no life
And we should share the blame.




Poetry by penfold18
Read 627 times
Written on 2007-06-06 at 11:42

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M Heathcote
Hi Graham

A wonderful poem!
And reminds me so much of Wilfred Owen

poems like; Anthem for Doomed Youth
I do so much admire his work and then
wonder how
much more he would of achieved if he'd
survived the war!

Now reload that pen...::..> lol
2007-06-08