mother & father fought the First World War

in the comfort of their living room

protracted painful battles

no-one won

after many positions of love & desire

they were locked in deadly combat

quite intransigent

entrenched in bloody-mindedness

each kept separate sides of the fire

not a cold war this

marital bliss

more like a damn-well martial blitz

armageddon without armistice

both beyond the call of duty killed in battle

 

 

as for me the orphaned son

that's why I'm a pacifist

whose not addicted to the poppy

a war correspondent back from the front

conscientiously objecting still

the past & its pity

cut my white feather into a quill

I play the war poet & pen a rhyme

forcefully protesting

the futility of force

remorselessly suggesting

truce & divorce

yield a promise

of peace in our time