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Foot Soldiers

Just like the bodies, plucked and sacrificed

In dirty factories and down in mines,

Like frightened masses, banished to the dark,

Or the timebound terror of the trenches,

Here come the foot soldiers, their destinies

Already marked. Convenient agents

In the hands of the men who know better.

It was ever thus. Some are dead, others

Beyond hope, the rest numbered and dated.

Now ‘Why did they go, did they understand?’

Resonates louder than it ever has.

And what if some did? Does that improve things?

There is such a thing as futility;

It’s playing every day, on phones, TV.

Ukraine

◄ Saxmundham

Brass Monkeys ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Sun 30th Oct 2022 21:29

Many thanks, Nigel, and thanks to Steve, Candice, Holden, Stephen and Rudyard for liking.

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Nigel Astell

Sat 29th Oct 2022 11:00

Such a waste of life a strong emotional poem Stephen.

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Stephen Gospage

Fri 28th Oct 2022 16:23

Thank you for the generous comment, Greg. War is ultimately the consumption of human lives.

I hope the move went according to plan.

And thanks to John and Frederick for the likes.

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Greg Freeman

Fri 28th Oct 2022 08:00

An expertly crafted poem, Steve. You are a war poet de nos jours.

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