Colin F. Jones


Those who enjoy life, never went to war,
And if they did, they never ever saw,
The damage that a bullet does to a head,
Nor saw a friendly body lying dead.
Joys in life are wondrous but so brief,
As are the plunders of a foolish thief,
A baby born; the marriage of a son,
The rising moon when the day is done,
Wars do not ever produce in me,
A single moment that I recall with glee,
The power we were given to maim and kill
Served up no joy to accompany the thrill.
No! Enjoying life is not a part of me,
For in every petal there lives a stinging bee.