It's lovely to see a new poem from you; you have such a distinct and clear voice in your poetry and this - like your other work - is no different.
As much as I love this write and as important as it is, wouldn't it be nice if tales of war and the terrible way it can haunt people were no longer relevant? My guess is that will never be the case; not in our lifetimes, anyway...
Thank you everyone for your lovely comments. I am struggling a bit at the moment and was starting to think that I wouldn't be able to write anymore. So your comments mean more than you could know.
War is an awful product of human behaviour. So much hatred tunneled into the act of killing another, but its not like that really is it? Men go to war and fight for a countries political purpose - fighting violence with violence. Until we realise that being the bigger person means, not fighting, but teaching, leading from example. Learning to except difference, respect others and have your own views, but try to enforce them on others.
Anyway, I digress (sorry) Your poem is about war, but an asset - assisting in a war, meaning fighting and killing. This may have come off the back of training, showing how to kill in a variety of ways, but what it didn't teach, was how to deal with it. The reason for this is there is no way to completely dodge the 'payback' bullet. This may ricochet for a while, through the years, but eventually it will find you and then all the haunting memories will return, the bird song will be squashed, limbs will be chained and that time piece will never work again.
Milly, this is perhaps one of my favourite pieces from you. I would be interested to know your inspiration for this. Pm me please or share with all.
The first two stanzas (to me) don't flow quite as well as the rest. The meter in those are lovely.
In the war I was an asset
I carried out the violent threat
if you changed 'I carried' to carrying this (to me) sounds okay.
killed and maimed a thousand souls
who lay forgotten in deep holes
Desolate is the sky when grey
no light yet dark is on its way
If you changed 'Desolate' for a two syllable word, like barren, or lonely this helps.
My heart is grey like dusty ash
discarded in the garden trash
Apart from those small suggestion this poem is amazing and tells a tale with a stark truth.
Thank you Michael I have made the changes you suggested (with acknowledgement) I really appreciate all your advice. I tend to get tied up with trying to get the rhyming and correct amount of syllables and sometimes lose track of the difference it makes with one or two words.
The inspiration for the poem was grey clouds outside my bedroom window that reminded me of bomb explosions, that combined with me feeling chained to my bed (with my condition) Its a big leap I know but my imagination goes in many directions Milly xx
I felt a helplessness in your words...like you would love to help but are so overwhelmed by the severity of the situation that you don't know where to begin. It's something that, sadly, we are all experiencing just now...