Colin F. Jones


Monuments we erect them for the dead,
Who cannot see the statues that we make,
For they are built by what lives in our heads,
Honouring death by keeping death awake.
Dead soldiers live in cenotaphs and shrines
In the hearts of those who knew them well,
They died by what their orders then defined,
And now in stone immortalise their hell
Yet many from their sacrifice do steal,
Reap reward that is not there to reap,
Who make a mock of those who really feel,
While nursing yet their memory as they sleep.
All things that men do touch some touch so foul
Tarnishing fine monuments with a scowl