Death and life can float up
In a second or less and fill the
Rest of Time. Rest on Time
Therefore, let hate weight
Nothing and noone, drifting off
On a tide of Peace.
war
Remembrance Sunday peace and sound
We ring the bells for
Babies, we ring them
Then for brides and
Grooms, we ring them
Every Sunday, in politeness
To our Father, his Son and
Of course, the Holy Ghost.
Today’s bells ring and ring
And clash with the drums
And brass blowing down
The street to the pound
Of feet remembering flesh
That was blown to sand
Or mud or stone, depending
On the time, the place and
The type of luck or
Bravery that graced
The soldier who didn’t know
The shortcut was It.
Arpeggios, majors, no
Minors – Don’t dwell
On pain, keep calm
Carry on – Don’t clock
The fuss civilians
Make about bombs.
Drums for triumph
Beating out a time of
Red and gold and
Sabre mounted on the
Field, blast through the murmur
Of stealth or chocolate bars
Mingling with Kalashnikovs
In the long-distance lorry’s bowels.
Drumming stops and the
Ducks go quack quack as
They paddle in the
Lake and the leaves
Break out in chatter
Now that they can hear
Each other better without
The dreadful stacks
Of beats that back
The boots that crack
The streets to remind
Them that another year
Has passed and more
Bodies are piled on
The old ones who died
Young. God rest their souls.
S.C.Alexander, died 14th June 2009, POW, River Kwai, 1942 to 1945
That skull there on
The pillow,
One two three we
Heave him up,
Belch,
One two three we
Let him down, down,
Death bubbles in his
Guts,
Fiddles the clockwork
In his heart.
A nappy smothers
Paper skin and knees hover, angling,
Buzzards above the
Wan skeleton, barely
Worth the fuss.
His eyes are lidded
And the curtain’s shut
But for the odd crack
Of Pain and Cricket,
Outside.
In they come, ‘The family’,
He mouths and seems to say,
As he lifts bone to
Palm, before the bridge
Breaks and his life flows
Off, prisoner no more,
Away.
Being Every Day 