“WE ARE AT
WAR!” gazettes proclaimed.
An enemy
was boldly named.
We donned
our uniforms to train
And learned
to crawl through barbed terrain.
How quickly
other nations armed
As placid
peoples were alarmed.
Then scared
as Hell, we sailed away
To gather in
a distant fray.
The
battlefield became our home;
With
trenches as a catacomb.
Gray
daybreak was our time to kill.
The
sergeant’s order harsh and shrill!
The Reaper
had been occupied;
By
twilight’s pink we saw who died.
How many
comrades made the list?
Who will be
next? Why was I missed?
Some left
us rhymes. They wrote them well:
By Lx 121 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0
“In
Flanders Fields,” “The Bells of Hell.”
Bad wars
produce good songs and books;
As gnarly
branches make fine crooks.
No one’s
designed a proper trench;
With depth
enough to quell the stench…
The stench
we daily stirred afresh,
Of Sulphur…
gas… decaying flesh!
Just as a
scandal’s rumor flies,
Until all
hear... and then it dies;
At last,
one morn, a rumor flew,
Until all
heard; and then we knew.
The whispered
word inspired release.
Years
facing death; we now faced peace….
Our weapons
tossed on scattered piles,
We looked
about with tearful smiles.
The decades tumbled.
Pages dropped.
The hourglass grains have never stopped.
In recent years I cringe with age.
I’m but an elder; not a sage.
Our uniforms ~ threadbare and quaint.
The muster’s call is growing faint.
The Reaper stalks o’er field and fen.
He’s out conscripting, once again.
More comrades ~ daily ~ miss the call.
Soon, there’ll be none; no one at all.
The second cutting of the grain
Will cut each stalk, ‘til none remain.
My arms and armor won’t suffice.
I hear the rattling of the dice –
Dice that the Reaper has recast –
So this campaign will
be my last….
]]]
[[[
© Guy Graybill
Second Harvest is tied to the notion that every major war has a "Second Harvest." Each war loses combatants in combat and then, years later, those surviving former combatants face a final attrition as dying veterans, as America is witnessing now with World War II and Korean War vets.
My poem uses World War I for the initial 'harvest' since I find that war to have some unique characteristics that work well for my rhyming pattern and with my thoughts on the topic.
~~
Guy Graybill is the author of five published books: KEYSTONE, BRAVO!, PROHIBITION'S PRINCE, PRINCE AND THE PAUPERS and FROST and WHIMSY AND WRY!
Guy attended rural Pennsylvania schools and graduated from Gettysburg College with a degree in History.
Guy Graybill worked in a Pennsylvania state capital mail room, in a brick plant, in the Geisinger Medical Center (Danville, PA) and in schools in Aguilar, Colorado (one year) and Loganton, Pennsylvania (two years). His career position was three decades in Middleburg, PA as a secondary History teacher. After retiring from Middleburg, he was elected to a four-year term as chairman of the board of commissioners of Snyder County.
Guy married his high-school sweetheart, Nancy Yerger. They have now been married for many decades and are the parents of four grown children.
Guy Graybill is proud of the support he has received from individuals who wrote the forewords to his books. They include a man who is now Budget Secretary to the governor of Pennsylvania, a Philadelphia opera singer, and a former speechwriter to five U.S. presidents.
Other than writing, Guy Graybill's hobbies include travel, amateur archaeology and photography. Guy has traveled in more than 40 of the U.S. states, as well as Japan, Okinawa, Canada and Guatemala. He conducted one local archaelogy project for the 1976 U.S. Bicentennial observance and his photographs have appeared on greetings, postal cards, and more than 100 covers of small magazines.
Note: I tried as much as possible to stay within WWI, but wanted pics to reflect the words, so some are from other wars...
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