The horror and the pity of war - in poetry: Brian Turner, Carol Ann Duffy, Wilfred Owen
To mark the 100 year anniversary of the end of the supposed 'war to end all wars', I'm posting three poems from three different poets. Brian Turner served with US forces in the middle east, Wilfred Owen in World War 1. Carol Ann Duffy's poem to commemorate the Armistice is a fitting summing up of the futility of war. History, she observes, might as well be water, so little influence does memory have on it.
HERE BULLET
If a body is what you want,
then here is bone and gristle and flesh.
Here is the clavicle-snapped wish,
the aorta’s opened valves, the leap
thought makes at the synaptic gap.
Here is the adrenaline rush you crave,
that inexorable flight, that insane puncture
into heat and blood. And I dare you to finish
what you’ve started. Because here, Bullet,
here is where I complete the word you bring
hissing through the air, here is where I moan
the barrel’s cold esophagus, triggering
my tongue’s explosives for the rifling I have
inside of me, each twist of the rou…
HERE BULLET
If a body is what you want,
then here is bone and gristle and flesh.
Here is the clavicle-snapped wish,
the aorta’s opened valves, the leap
thought makes at the synaptic gap.
Here is the adrenaline rush you crave,
that inexorable flight, that insane puncture
into heat and blood. And I dare you to finish
what you’ve started. Because here, Bullet,
here is where I complete the word you bring
hissing through the air, here is where I moan
the barrel’s cold esophagus, triggering
my tongue’s explosives for the rifling I have
inside of me, each twist of the rou…
