A few days ago I found a photograph in the rain at the side of the road. A recycle bin had been knocked over and there were a few bits and pieces strewn around. I realised it had been discarded, clearly there was no one left to be sentimental about this photo and it had been thrown in the bin for recycling. It looks like these beautiful young men were maybe doing training, possibly engineers judging by the wellingtons some of them are wearing, there is an army tent errected behind them. Salisbury Plain was a common place for training (it still is). It looks like the 1940’s and they have the look of young men eager to get to the enemy and do the duty they have been told to believe in. I cleaned the rain and mud off the picture and I spent some time looking at their faces and imagining their banter and seeing if I could time travel back and be with them for a moment.
Wow! Wonderful Guy, great writing. Thank you. I feel a joy that these discarded boys have inspired us to remember them even when we did not know them. They are every boy we know, my son and his mates, the lads who gather on the corner in my town, sons and brothers. And the war machine continues to make money....
Photos fade. Memory a memorial, a morning glory’s convoluted twining around a twisted twig of fate squeezed to the bitter end to support the blue or fragrant white flower of peace soon forgotten by another war and soldiers lying on ground for the glorious roots to take hold.
Thank you Michael. This is the benefit of being a person who really looks at everything, including litter ha ha. After carrying the photo around for a couple of days I decided to sit down and write a poem about conscription but these words just came out by themselves. It's amazing how that happens sometimes.
Very moving, April. Strange how a discarded photo and poetry can tell us more about how it feels to be at war than our textbook histories. Thank You for sharing what will probably be a last, perhaps, only memorial to these young men.
What an incredible poem, April. The men in the picture would surely appreciate knowing that, after all these years, you honoured their service with such a beautiful tribute. God bless you, you have a precious heart and spirit. L
Thank you so much Lois, this is a wonderful comment. I was so moved by finding this photo and studying their faces, I just imagined myself in their lives as the picture got taken. Then the poem came out all by itself!
hola, april. what came to mind was this poem. (i’ve added dots to indicate stanza breaks.)
~~
~~
boys, dressed as men.
in our chest-high bravado of masked strangers,
standing in line of a grand,
the grandest,
punch and judy show.
the tent behind and behind that
we stand up as rough boys who are
insensate to what’s in our butts
what’s in and also not in our spines.
another’s hands or others’ hands
we didn’t know were there help guides us.
for us to stick around we dodge the barbed sticks
and scamper like dogs to lick that carrot.
and we attempt to smile as if this is it,
as if we are in war
the best in show.
did we know that the best show is in the showing?
.
the pictures are great!
so many and yet, in the end, so very few.
you see us, so we can all pretend not to hope
that you do see us as heroes in this
villainous trope —
a gag that we pretend doesn’t really exist.
.
i once had a name, i’m sure that i did because…
well … because how else would you know that i was?
Wow! Wonderful Guy, great writing. Thank you. I feel a joy that these discarded boys have inspired us to remember them even when we did not know them. They are every boy we know, my son and his mates, the lads who gather on the corner in my town, sons and brothers. And the war machine continues to make money....
igualmente!
your eye and your words are a great inspiration. muchas gracias.
Photos fade. Memory a memorial, a morning glory’s convoluted twining around a twisted twig of fate squeezed to the bitter end to support the blue or fragrant white flower of peace soon forgotten by another war and soldiers lying on ground for the glorious roots to take hold.
What a beautiful comment that perfectly expresses my feeling of sorrow as I looked at this picture. Thank you Richard ❤🙏
2000 plus years of war. 200 years of peace.
The many live in the sorrows of their delusions and the war machine makes money for the few, and history repeats.
Just stunning, this poem
Thanks so much Karen ❤️ I am always chuffed when someone listens to one of my poems 🙏🙏
So poignant…thank you.
Thank you so much for listening and for your comment Manuel, I really appreciate it.
April! This is wonderful!
Finding the photo and being inspired to write a poem because of it, is amazing on its own. And then the poem, is just fantastic— so much depth too it.
Bravo :)
Thank you Michael. This is the benefit of being a person who really looks at everything, including litter ha ha. After carrying the photo around for a couple of days I decided to sit down and write a poem about conscription but these words just came out by themselves. It's amazing how that happens sometimes.
Yes, totally! There is a piece of writing in everything as long as we have the eyes to see it.
I agree, and it’s not just amazing when the words just come out — it’s ohh-so-satisfying :)
That was excellent April, very moving and thought provoking.
Thank you so much for listening Reginald and commenting too. I really appreciate the support❤
I had tears in my eyes by the end. You made it so emotional with your poem and the oration.
Thank you so much for listening and commenting Saumya. The poem just came out after studying the picture and carrying it around for a few days.
Very moving, April. Strange how a discarded photo and poetry can tell us more about how it feels to be at war than our textbook histories. Thank You for sharing what will probably be a last, perhaps, only memorial to these young men.
Thank Paul. Yes I felt sad that there were no longer anyone to be sentimental about this photo and no one to tell the story. History just repeats.
Wars are forgotten
and people never ask why
until the next one
What an incredible poem, April. The men in the picture would surely appreciate knowing that, after all these years, you honoured their service with such a beautiful tribute. God bless you, you have a precious heart and spirit. L
Thank you so much Lois, this is a wonderful comment. I was so moved by finding this photo and studying their faces, I just imagined myself in their lives as the picture got taken. Then the poem came out all by itself!