Homework Nov.'22 No Level Playing Field.
Posted: Sun Nov 13, 2022 3:23 pm
No Level Playing Field.
© Ron Boughton. Nov. ‘22
The troops, had long departed on the transport plane
And tears subsided, as the time had passed,
I’ll catch you round like a rissole, he’d said, to rein
Her fears that this goodbye could be their last.
His humour, had then helped her to stand and be strong
While he, fought in a foreign countries war
Against the evil forces of radical wrong
Where traitors, could lurk behind every door!
One such traitor he caught, who’d killed three of his mates,
He fired point blank, before the foe could flee,
Small consolation though, he thought that at the gates
They’ll think he fell out of the ugly tree!
This hell, could make one balmy as a bandicoot
But hesitation could, mean his own life,
And training, involved, on instinct to aim and shoot
Which meant, to see again his loving wife!
Two tours he’d done and definitely this, his last
With zero chance to do a Melba here,
His only thoughts to return to that country vast
Where ‘neath blue skies, he could, slow down a gear.
With open arms she greeted him on his return
And her relief was there for all to see,
But troubled thoughts for lost mates, he would always yearn
So would he ever again, be carefree!
Then media portrayal, from their safety net,
Who must think peoples ears were painted on
Would draw a picture, that of course there’d been no threat
And soldiers guilty …conclusion foregone!
Compounding issues would sadly see suicide
As for some to surmount, a hopeless quest,
When political correctness was there to decide
The fate of men, who’d given of their best.
Reality of war is such a shocking thing
Just ask those suffering now in Ukraine
When global bullies to innocent people bring
Death and destruction, vile bloodshed and pain.
So taken for granted, our peace should never be,
As P.C. won’t be defending our shore!
But those forces who do, whether air, land or sea
Their blood is worth bottling …that is for sure!
© Ron Boughton. Nov. ‘22
The troops, had long departed on the transport plane
And tears subsided, as the time had passed,
I’ll catch you round like a rissole, he’d said, to rein
Her fears that this goodbye could be their last.
His humour, had then helped her to stand and be strong
While he, fought in a foreign countries war
Against the evil forces of radical wrong
Where traitors, could lurk behind every door!
One such traitor he caught, who’d killed three of his mates,
He fired point blank, before the foe could flee,
Small consolation though, he thought that at the gates
They’ll think he fell out of the ugly tree!
This hell, could make one balmy as a bandicoot
But hesitation could, mean his own life,
And training, involved, on instinct to aim and shoot
Which meant, to see again his loving wife!
Two tours he’d done and definitely this, his last
With zero chance to do a Melba here,
His only thoughts to return to that country vast
Where ‘neath blue skies, he could, slow down a gear.
With open arms she greeted him on his return
And her relief was there for all to see,
But troubled thoughts for lost mates, he would always yearn
So would he ever again, be carefree!
Then media portrayal, from their safety net,
Who must think peoples ears were painted on
Would draw a picture, that of course there’d been no threat
And soldiers guilty …conclusion foregone!
Compounding issues would sadly see suicide
As for some to surmount, a hopeless quest,
When political correctness was there to decide
The fate of men, who’d given of their best.
Reality of war is such a shocking thing
Just ask those suffering now in Ukraine
When global bullies to innocent people bring
Death and destruction, vile bloodshed and pain.
So taken for granted, our peace should never be,
As P.C. won’t be defending our shore!
But those forces who do, whether air, land or sea
Their blood is worth bottling …that is for sure!
Though I must admit I started Two poems with these prompts that were going no where, until I stuck with this one. 
