YOUR NOT HALF THE MAN HE WAS
Running tears can have far reaching effects, even for those lucky enough not to have been emotionally affected by the death of a close relative in times of war.
This poem beside being just another angle on rememberance day, exposes the possible consequential years of unhappiness on marrying the recently widowed.
YOUR NOT HALF THE MAN HE WAS!
At the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day,
of the eleventh month, in mournful array
under skeletal trees, on last summers leaf
thousands of faces, in sombre relief
display curcumstancially...countenanced grief.
Lugrubious music will coax mouths to pray
round a poppy strewn plinth at eleven today
and honour by way of well worn agender
a body count up since a year last November
Contrived euphemistified rhetoric
amplified from a mitred head
conjour's up a mental picture,
of smiley faces on the dead.
Imploring us remember, in two short minutes recall,
those who paid the ultimate, sacrificed their all.
Ignoring completely the raped and ravaged,
innocents killed by collateral damage
The winds of time sighing by,
first cool, stem, then gently dry
tear stained cheeks, widowed eyes,
She watches TV, "remarried"
heart scarred but with time will repair,
devoted second husband
ill at ease in his favourite chair
feels resurgent annual jealousy
seeing tears she cannot hide
for her posthumous soldier first love,
He patiently hopes that in time sometime soon
a cessation of rolling tears
will see an end to the mourning
of their first uncertain years
as flames on the torch for her hero
flicker then finally dim
she will open the door to his love with a heart.
Forever, devoted to him.