The Silent Treatment by Dennis Allen Lange

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The battlefield is cloaked to deaden sound;
A struggle waged upon a sullen ground.
The bullets in this war are silent bees
That bump a bloom without apologies. 

The cry to “charge” in this war’s never heard,
Since all the world’s a battlefield – absurd!
A truce is never called to clear the field
The wounded, thus, are never healed. 

The pouting silent did not get her way
And he who was the victor’s made to pay
For what he won so he will next time know
That he may win but price is high in woe.

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photo by Marcelo Mokrejs at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/miyqLHO/Chairs

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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World War I Christmas Armistice by Dennis Allen Lange

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December: all the pawns, both black and white
Ceased firing and attack for just one night –
For Christmas Day, they’d spent in gift and song
Went into No Man’s Land; there, got along.
Some warring pawns played football; some chased hares,
Forgot for hours all their bloody cares.
And this first line, that must advance and die
Protecting kings that in the distance lie,
Would willingly shake hands across the way
And turn to travel home and there to stay.
But kings in palaces both fair and far
From trenches, live in peace and order war.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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