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Dear Wife and Kids whom I adore
I have survived this awful war
My best mate nicknamed Bucky
Wasn't quite so lucky
One night in this cold trench
Full of that dead rotting stench
Was shot straight through the head
The CO told me he was dead
He had a wife at home like me
A boy of three he longer to see
In fact most all the old time mob
Have wives at home who now do sob
Have sons and daughters big and tall
Who never heard their fathers call
Who never saw their fathers face
Some never knew their fathers race
As dead cocausians, negros too
Rot in the early morning dew
Waiting for the truck to come
And of the dead they bury some
And of the ones that do survive
The lucky ones they are still alive
Their face and hands now look macabre
Back at home they'll find it hard
They did it for their country too
But now they are just a human zoo

Dear Iya,

It sounds like you've been on the front line in wartime and that this is a very personal poem for you. If you simply have great interest in war and imagining the human side of it, you're doing very well. Your poem has the edge of bitterness, sorrow, and the struggle to resolve all that you've and others have been through. I like its simple directness.

~Lizzytysh

Why the name change Georges? "have wives at home who now do sob" was too much of a giveaway.

p.

Not my subject matter Partisan, anyway i don't hide behind masks
Regards.............Georges

Are you absolutely sure it's not you, George? It has your musk all over it.

I give my word that it was not my musk, i maintain that i do not hide behind identities...........look at the poem rather than who wrote it but then again that's the problem of using masks of secrecy.
georges

O.K. George, I believe you.

That only leaves one other poet in the running. So it's my guess the musk behind the mask belongs to Peter "horticulturally challenged" Danielson.

Thank you for your comments. I just wanted honest comments which I got. Thank you again.