Colin F. Jones


The land is deformed potholed and dead,
And bodies are strewn there all over
The cannons have stilled the wounded have bled,
And the grass has all died with the clover.

Along the foul bunds the barbed wire rusts,
Smashed weapons and sand bags lie wasted,
The blood on the bodies with earthen dirt crusts
As it dries on their skin as though pasted.

Mangled up tanks and trenches collapsed
Back packs and Helmets and boxes,
Cordite the night as daylight has lapsed,
To hide the destruction that shocks us

The gardens are filled with crosses of white,
Where the graves are carefully tended,
It’s an awesome collection of savageries might,
The remains of dead soldiers remembered.

And we who survived to remember the war,
Who saw all our comrades there dying,
Reflect on their deaths and the horror we saw,
As we stand here unbeaten and crying.

The bugle is blowing the wind and the rain
All the flags at half-mast are flying
As we gather ourselves and hiding the pain
Stand steadfastly ever defying

We’ve asked all the questions ranted and raved,
But our comrades are still busy dying,
But their names on the wall all elegantly paved,
Will ensure that we never stop trying.

The war is not over when the soldier returns,
There are widows and wounded; the shattered,
He still has a duty; new skills he must learn,
Lest he think that none of it mattered.

We remember the dead but those who came home,
Need care and tolerance forever,
For no man should suffer such anguish alone
Not ever, not ever, not ever.

The “Consequence of War” Trilogy

Part 1: Aftermath by Colin F. Jones
Part 2: What Can We Offer by Nancy L. Meek
Part 3: Reply to: What Can We Offer by Colin F. Jones