Bugles Last Post. Poem by R. K. Hart

I hear the sound of the bugles last post,
And in minds eye hear wars ghosts.
From muddy trenches body strewn,
Men scream, their strong bodies hewn.

I see muddy lagoons of slush and blood,
Men cast back forehead hit by snipers thud.
A photo clings bravely to a trench wall,
A family smile, he won’t see a babe crawl.

I hear the wail of the bugles last post cry,
From stretches come screams then last sighs.
Hospital ships off shore at anchor await,
Brave soldiers dying while generals’ debate.

Muddy bloody inches won and yards lost,
We ask ourselves how great the cost.
Not a carpet of men between trenches lie,
Strongmen from each side collapse and cry.

The bugle has sounded for me a last time,
I’m leaving the mud the slush and grime.
Now I’m trading the myriad fears of war,
For her lips, soft hands and a love I adore.

Ray K. Hart 7/5/2015