By Barddylbach
If you think you know the history,
can distinguish fact from legend and myth,
if the Great War could ever be won at Gallipoli
by Arcadian heroes fighting in the trenches
and absent British generals;
If you think you know the truth,
can turn a deaf ear to national pride and memory,
if the peace was ever preserved by battle and blood
on the western front and beaches,
by monument and shrine;
If you think you know their story,
can cast an even eye to those around you still,
forever haunted by machine gun, mine, death and mud,
wounded by the crowd, by those who sent you
dead or alive, blood and gutless remain;
If you think you know your country,
can speak for the vanquished voices of our past,
man and woman, black or white without prejudice or resentment,
if this could ever better our world, all just all settled
lessons learnt; then think it through again.
This poem was originally published on All Poetry.
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YES!
Absolutely!
Jacta alia est.
Jacta alia est..; The die it is cast.
Caesar quietly mumbles the words,
Mixed with the tumbling Rubicon’s waters,
And when he whispers his secret,
Who does he direct his knowledge to?
What lines do the poets place on page?
Is there those who will like the rhyme,
But curse the metre?
Will like the notion,
But curse the action?
Jacta alia est..; The die it is cast.
But there is no-one left
Who knows what chance is.
None want to take the risk.
So he says it quietly..under-breath,
And leads the dumb and blind
On to their deserved death.
Lest we forget, we intone these words every year . . . . and yet we forget as soon as the day has passed, and the boys go off to another battle, another land, and death again.
“where have all the flowers gone . . . . . when will they ever learn”
One thing is certain – that no matter how stupid is the order you will do it.