Warsophy Poem by Lyre Bleus

Civility hath no door
Sanity’s obscure
through the fog of war

Beasts of war
growl and clamor
o’er an incurable sore

Trophies of war
bodies and gore
litter the streets galore

Yet from the empire's core
the drums of war
Beat for more

drunk on blood past stupor
past reason’s shore


--

Many return to familiar shores
From the horrors
Bearing permanent scars
of abominable war

Many lie where they fall
Later to be remembered
by the echoes of a bugler’s call
some, an obscure mound marked
by tin helmets on their muskets
some flown home in flag-draped caskets

Youthful enthusiasm and exuberance no more
But only as tales woven into folklore

A reward of tin medals for valor
or plaques mounted on a memorial in the city square
and wounded hearts of kinfolk and lovers

many will keep score
many will the tragedy deplore
and seek healing and a cure……….