Larksong
A broken bird sings in a cage,
amusement for those who imbibe.
A gambler’s toy, unseeing now,
blinded for mistaken truth.
The broken men who fought for us,
shunned by all, bravery's payment.
Blinded in war, unseeing now,
soldiers still, they fight again.
Men of war, take up the cry
for larks who're blinded and whose voice
is marred by unnatural darkness,
their eyes removed to stay the song.
Those who lost their sight that we,
generations who follow, still are free,
gave battle once more and cried as one,
to ensure the lark now sees the sun.
~~~
Dedicated to those men blinded in the First World War who saved thousands of birds purposefully blinded and kept in cages in Public Houses across the UK. Blinding them was meant to help them carry on singing, a fallacy proved by veterans who, themselves blinded, fought a new war against idiocy and won.
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The Tree of Dreams
PoetryRandom poetry and the occasional drabble or dribble of other short random thought from the depths my somewhat bemused brain, or possibly Brian if the schizophrenic misspelt pseudo entity that lives up there is up to his old tricks... poems from the...
