Bedlam of battle

Here, in a room of one’s own, we collect the detritus of yester years. We present to any reader who cares to listen, vignettes of the wasteful war. We who have never lain maimed under the drilled corpse of a comrade or looked at physical brutalities with shell-shocked stupor.What shall we ever know of hell’s upsurge in the dark story of arms and the men? But then ‘English poetry is not yet fit to speak of them’ and battle shall always remain the enervating truth glossed over by whispers of Pro Patria Mori.

Geisha