Poetry Friday

As always, every second Friday is Poetry Friday – and this week we’ve got a poem from Wally Lane. He wrote it and featured it in his film Winos & Pigeons.



A.W. “Wally” Lane


Oh Cain, had you only known that dreadful day
The horror you had done,
Condemned all those who came after you
To the dread and agony of war.

All those boys doomed to die
before they became men.
All those men to come home,
never to be boys again.

On that fateful black day,
you committed all man kind
To the futile hopelessness
of endless war.
Here in this place once called Eden.

 Wars are waged by the rich and powerful
To gain more wealth and power.
Wars are fought by simple men
like you and I
In the name of honor, God and country.

The fruits of war,
the bitter and the sweet
Are divided equally between.

The sweet,
hoarded and coveted
by the rich and powerful

The bitter,
carried and remembered
by all those simple folk
Who fought and died
from both sides

So it is
so it was
so it seems it always will be.

War and its horrors
Its wreckage, waste and carnage
Invented and waged by the few,
fought and paid for by the many.
Here in this place once called Eden.

 Off they go
just boys, not yet men
so hastily prepared
Ah, but how do you prepare someone for hell,
when they’ve never been
And war is Hell.

When the lull comes,
that temporary peace
until the next war begins,
They march them back home again.

The ones that are left,
the dregs of war,
come limping home
In hollow victory
or bitter defeat.
Here in this place once called Eden.

 Yes back they come,
no longer the boys they were
But now to soon aged men.

Some never to walk or run again,
Never to race down a wooded path,
Never to feel the surf and sand
tickle their toes again

Some never to throw a ball,
wave hello or goodbye again,
Never to hold a young girl’s hand
Never to use one or two hands,
or perhaps their arms again

Some never to see the sun again
never to see a young girl’s blush
Never to see a child smile
or for that matter,
anything ever again

Some doomed to silence,
never to live in a world of sound again
Never to hear music
never to hear the magic of laughter
or someone say I love you
Ever again.

Some come back so damned afraid
broken by the carnage,
the loss and the killing
Their poor tortured minds,
so repulsed by it all
simply erased everything.

Some come back in coffins or body bags,
to lie beneath neat rows of white crosses
Or left behind in some foreign land
Lost forever in an unmarked grave.

Of these,
some will say,
they are the lucky ones
They are forever done

Yes, back they come until the next one
Boys, that left only to return too soon aged men
The heros and the losers from both sides
the living and the dead
the legacy of war

And the saddest part of it all
No one learned a damned thing
Here in this place once called Eden.

 Wally Lane

One response to “Poetry Friday

  1. Raymond Bolton

    Nice, Wally. Very nice.

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