Although much has been written <br />About the aftermath of battle <br />My time for the last four years has been a trial <br />And a terrible combination of comments and compassion <br /> <br />All my writings have been about the 1st and 2nd world wars <br />All have told of the terrible silence <br />The smell of cordite <br />And the smell of death. <br /> <br />The battlefield always seems to be scattered with paper <br />From photo's of loved ones <br />And letters pulled from khaki pockets <br />In their last agonies <br />Was it comfort they sought? or desperation. <br />When the soldier is young, invincibility <br />Reigns amongst youth. <br /> <br />And after the battle appear the looters <br />Ripping pockets and packs, discarding treasures <br />From the twisted and wide eyed <br />Children of the day <br />We have learnt nothing about war except <br />The tradgedy, tears and unconsoluble hurt.<br /><br />willow moon pearce<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-carries-on/
