John A Silkstone
22-03-06, 14:51
GRANDMA’S WAR
On Mondays,
Attired in
Floral pinny,
Knotted headscarf,
Sleeves rolled to elbows,
Grandma prepared for war.
Armaments consist of
Dolly tub,
Posher,
Washboard,
Scrubbing brush,
Long green bar of Fairy soap.
War zone,
Steaming hot water
Fired by coal
Ladled from copper boiler.
Woad,
In Dolly Blue Bags,
Prepared the battleground.
Arms aching from mangle turning,
Grandma brush back wisps of grey hair
With wet forearm.
Battle over,
The enemy surrendered to the clothesline.
Awaiting torture
By hot iron on Tuesdays.
ALL FOR NOTHING
Some write about the glory of war
How euphoric it can be
They charged into the Valley of Death
The foe they could not see
Then with a roar like thunder
They’re torn limb from limb
Screaming men and horses
It’s all a terrible sin.
War shouldn’t be portrayed
As a great and gallant deed
But told as it really is
The truth, is a must, is a need
For when a war is fought
Both soldier and civilian man
Are killed for the sake of killing
For that is the enemy’s plan.
They want to be more powerful
To show their strength and might
To kill and maim and bomb and tame
To put everyone to fright.
And when it is all over
The widows grieve and cry.
While I sit here and ponder
Oh why, oh why, oh why?
TREATABLE
War.
Is but
A disease,
That cannot be cured,
Without political intervention.
On Mondays,
Attired in
Floral pinny,
Knotted headscarf,
Sleeves rolled to elbows,
Grandma prepared for war.
Armaments consist of
Dolly tub,
Posher,
Washboard,
Scrubbing brush,
Long green bar of Fairy soap.
War zone,
Steaming hot water
Fired by coal
Ladled from copper boiler.
Woad,
In Dolly Blue Bags,
Prepared the battleground.
Arms aching from mangle turning,
Grandma brush back wisps of grey hair
With wet forearm.
Battle over,
The enemy surrendered to the clothesline.
Awaiting torture
By hot iron on Tuesdays.
ALL FOR NOTHING
Some write about the glory of war
How euphoric it can be
They charged into the Valley of Death
The foe they could not see
Then with a roar like thunder
They’re torn limb from limb
Screaming men and horses
It’s all a terrible sin.
War shouldn’t be portrayed
As a great and gallant deed
But told as it really is
The truth, is a must, is a need
For when a war is fought
Both soldier and civilian man
Are killed for the sake of killing
For that is the enemy’s plan.
They want to be more powerful
To show their strength and might
To kill and maim and bomb and tame
To put everyone to fright.
And when it is all over
The widows grieve and cry.
While I sit here and ponder
Oh why, oh why, oh why?
TREATABLE
War.
Is but
A disease,
That cannot be cured,
Without political intervention.