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Poetry from within
   

NO MANíS LAND


Swans nest where Willows rest

As soldiers lay their batons down

Weary from the noise and smoke

Collapse in heaps upon the ground



Sorrow etched on faces black

Hell has landed in their brains

Peace is lost for soldier Jack

He will never be the same



Seeing sights, no man should

Breaks his spirit, wrecks his soul

Life as was, will never be

Empty, futile, funeral hood



Blue vein throbs like rivers edge

Swans return to mossy nest

Soldiers drag their bodies, stand

This their past in no manís land


Sally Lakin


FootNote: (A Poem for the Forces & British Legion, for National Poetry Day Ė 28th Sept 2017)