Solihull’s War Memorial:
The Nurse...
She stands motionless
At a bedside, a grim acceptance
In eyes which have seen the ravage
Of warfare pass through her ward…
She lingers, helpless,
Near a bedside, her prim allegiance
In eyes which have seen conflicts savage
Patients, their bodies strafed and gored…
She hovers, blameless,
At a bedside, a firm resilience
In eyes which have seen the rampage
Of shock and maiming and death deplored…
Pete Ray
November 2020
One of four panels upon Solihull’s War Memorial.
The others are written about below…
The Airman…
A tightly belted and warm sheepskin coat
Identifies the pilot’s shivering plight
In the cockpit of his slender biplane,
Flown as reconnaissance, or as a dog to fight.
A flying helmet, gloves and goggles
Identify the airman’s harrowing plight,
Hampered by trench warfare’s propensity insane
And his survival chances thus marginal and slight…
Pete Ray
November 2020
The Marine…
Staring abroad over a rail,
A rifle, incongruous, readied,
The Marine laments the lost, the drowned and the dead,
Seaward.
Glaring starboard across a deck,
An infelicitous torpedo dreaded,
The Marine resents the loss, the damned and the dead,
Seaward.
Sea-faring aboard a warship,
An inauspicious theatre headed,
The Marine repents the hate, the sins and the death,
Seaward…
Pete Ray
November 2020
The Infantryman…
The full pack’s weight endured by the infantryman
Pales
In comparison to the burden of the loss
Experienced in the slaughter of trench warfare.
The chin drops and the exhausted infantryman
Exhales
In compassion for the heavy loss
Suffered in the pushes from trench warfare.
The head falls in despair and the infantryman
Wails
In contrition for the senseless loss
Contrived by the farce of trench warfare…
Pete Ray
November 2020
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