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Sunday, June 03, 2012

The Great War in Verse

Review By Suzanne Kingsley 06-Jul-2011

A gifted poet skillfully pulls the reader into the core of the words on the page and in doing so, gives the reader the gift of touch, taste, sight and sound as the words on the page transform into a life event shared. David McDonald is indeed a gifted poet. He is also a man of honour,truth, courage,integrity and compassion.

The Orchestra

Strange settled quiet blankets the field
Waiting for man to launch Armageddon
Trembling muscles and releasing bladders
Involuntary cries of “mummy” or “father”
As the Concerto gets ready to start

A hail of metal falling like ice
High explosive, poisonous gas
Perhaps something nice in green sir?
Rent ground and torn bodies
The start of the movement

Free flowing tears and bladders follow
Diving into the nearest crater
Head over hands
Not really much of a defence
The music gathers pace

Up over the top hit by hail
Hundreds hit by metal balls
Falling back to where you lay
“Up and at em son, take yer gun”
The conductors quickens pace

“Advance” as if it’s just a school walk
Struggling over the human debris
Red flotsam, human slop
Only the bullet acceptable for a stop
The orchestra as one

“Fall back” what there is left
Pick up those that are dying dead
The rain keeps coming scything the ranks
The blood of many continues to flow
A glorious symphonic structure

A hand that grabs you
The only one he has left
Face gone missing where he was shot
I’ll be back lied with expertise
The finale grows to its peak

Quiet descended upon the field
Can’t hear the noise of the wounded
Best not to you see
Not a bloody inch gained or lost
And the orchestra stands for applause


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