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Siren

An air-raid siren,

Rhythmic harbinger of war

Ordering a sing-along,

Ready to give right of way

To the jackboot with sway;

To drown out the fifer, and

Awaken the huntsman in Orion. 

 

The siren cares not

That the daisies 

Are in bloom, or

That the children ought

To be in school, and

That there's no 

Such thing as

An exit wound. 

◄ Destinies

Vantage ►

Comments

Holden Moncrieff

Wed 21st Jul 2021 01:18

Thank you so much, Stephen!

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 20th Jul 2021 17:53

A beautiful poem. The second verse brings home the futility of it all.

Holden Moncrieff

Tue 20th Jul 2021 13:24

Thank you, John, I appreciate it!

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John Coopey

Tue 20th Jul 2021 07:38

Nice work, Holden.

Holden Moncrieff

Tue 20th Jul 2021 01:44

Thank you very much for the kind comment, Tom!

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Tom

Mon 19th Jul 2021 13:59

Enjoyed this. Particularly 'there's no such thing as an exit wound' great way to finish.

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