The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month
Anthem for Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? --Wilfred Owen Breakfast in hell
The yolks are jungle green or bloody,
Breakfast in hell, three days soaked-loping
We're happy for a moments peace to swill dry mouths
Patriots all, we huddle, ready to salute death,
There's Tex from Arizona who rode a bus
We swear in feigned joy we'll reunite
Some will go home to beat their wives again, --Oswald LeWinter |
State of the Union, 2003
I have not been to Jerusalem,
The children have seen so much death
Soon, the President will speak. --Sam Hamill Come up from the fields, father
Come up from the fields, father,
Lo, 'tis autumn;
Above all, lo, the sky, so calm, so transparent
Down in the fields all prospers well;
Fast as she can she hurries,
Open the envelope quickly;
Ah, now, the single figure to me,
"Grieve not so, dear mother," (the just-grown daughter speaks through her sobs; (nor may-be needs to be better, that brave and simple soul;) While they stand at home at the door, he is dead already; The only son is dead.
But the mother needs to be better; --Walt Whitman |