Anzac Day 2015
Charlie Chaplin, mother sang
didn't rush to war
not for him the Dardanelles
stayed instead to entertain
black and white on silent screen
brightly shone the moon
How much of love and light and joy
is buried with our darling boy
carved in stone, Gallipoli
forty thousand men and more
didn't live to make their mark
slaughtered all too soon
Countless stories never lived
all that might have been
gallant Anzacs donned their hats
fell in step and waved goodbye
Matilda waltzing with the band
jolly swagman tune
Tommy Atkins with his pals
whistling, marched away
Picadilly, Leicester Square
grieving Dolly left behind
siren songs, adventure's lure
heedless to their doom
One hundred years, what lessons learned?
Still the marching bands
red and gold the regiments
clean white graves and monuments
poppies, anthems, poetry
plaintive wailing bugle call
we may shroud it all in beauty
talk of sacrifice and duty
but the truth remains obscene
dulce et decorum, dying
such a bloody, ugly, lie
27th April, 2015, for Sue, whose grandfather, Lieutenant John Lionel Calvert Booth, was mortally wounded on April 25th 1915 at Gallipoli. He died of wounds on H M Hospital Ship Itonus on April 28th 1915 aged 38, and was buried at sea.
From Sue:
ReplyDeleteOh thank you so much. What a unique experience. How extraordinary to have a thoughtful beautifully crafted poem written for a dear special man who lived a generous, full life and was loved by so many people. Some people believe the dead live on as long as people remember them and talk about them. Watching those programmes I couldn't help thinking of his bones out there in the sea. Wonderful, brave,kind Lionel. Xxxx
What a waste of creative human potential on both sides, and celebrated now as a commercial cult to rival Easter and Christmas. Thanks for this beautiful poem Sally
ReplyDeleteThank you Sally, for the kind words. And what a beautiful poem yours is (with which I've just caught up — I'm really bad at going to blogs). So much ugliness conveyed so beautifully (ironic that). Love the way you put Tommy Atkins and the Anzacs together in this. And the last line — carrying on the bitter thought of Wilfred Owen (I think?). Love your poems! I should find them more often!!
ReplyDeleteFrom Gill: ' Sad words for a sad situation. I do hate war and what we do to each other in the name of what?'
ReplyDeleteComment above posted May 2nd is from Jen Hatte.
ReplyDelete