War Games

by | May 18, 2013 | Poetry | 0 comments

The politician bows his head
While honouring the Glorious Dead
Then goes back to Westminster in his car
Where, with a bland impassive face,
He sends more troops to take their place
Then joins his fellow members in the bar

The “Foe” prepares his troops as well
Assures them, they won’t go to hell
Then goes back to his prayers, with conscience clear
His followers, in turn, begin
To battle our apparent sin
By spreading trepidation, doubt and fear

The soldier then prepares to leave
And we at home prepare to grieve
For he will never, ever be the same
Although he may survive the war
He won’t be Tommy any more
But just another chess-piece in the game

So, Tommy, Eddie, Paul and Tim
(An IED took care of him!)
Go forth, and do their duty as they should
Their wives and loved ones wait at home
Dreading the post and telephone
Praying the news at all times will be good

The following year, not much is new
Not much has changed for me and you
But Tommy and his family aren’t quite right
His mates survived, with shattered wits
(Except for Timmy; blown to bits)
And, while they’re being sent back to the fight

Old soldiers beat a weary path
To Whitehall, and the Cenotaph
To honour once again, the Glorious Dead
And having planned the next consignment
Sent to man the battle lines,
Once more, the Politician bows his head


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