ON THE EVE OF WAR

War poets often spoke of lark song and gunfire in the same breath,
And found it curious to reconcile burgeoning growth - hope - new blooms; and stark and random death.
And hoped that cruel and bitter experience, told on the page and into young minds burned,
Would spare future generations their despair - war is not the answer - lesson learned.

But now we barely hear even the birds that mimic the tone
Of car alarm or mobile phone
Blessed and bathed in world-wide knowledge from our computer screens, we teeter on the brink of war,
Not listening, or learning from what has gone before.
Not expecting to hear the lark on high -
Not hearing the dull whisper as history repeats - and young, dead, poet soldiers sadly sigh.


BY: Virginia White