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havoc poem

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HAVOC

The A20 Havocs scream over Holland at fifty feet

looking for trouble in their game of death,

they attack the canal network, a flight of six planes.

Turning tightly they start their runs,

shooting tracer shells that rip open the flimsy barges.

In a huge blast the ammo load goes up, taking a plane with it,

falling debris and bits of fire, nothing more.

Yet it doesn’t matter – the others release their bombs

turning a dozen of the beetle-like transport barges into matchwood.

Attacking the canal wall, they breach it in three places,

water running over the fields like a rampaging storm tide.

Nazi gunfire fans out across the sky, reaching for the planes,

claiming another one for their daring air raid, still a success.

German Army supplies destroyed, no more food and bullets

for the enemy troops – worth six men and two planes,

the price of war.

◄ ghosts poem

poem, new, has some of my women shenanigans from today in. ►

Comments

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nick armbrister

Sun 31st Jan 2010 14:46

yes thanx for your words. the two planes in the pic are the same as in my poem. the topic matter affects my views a lot so i did this poem. everything has a price including war. i find history fascinating, never boring, it reaches out to touch me.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 31st Jan 2010 13:02

Mr Armbrister, I think this is an excellent poem, clear and unaffected, a 'telling' poem that needs no quirky imagery. After the strong real visuals, you end with 'war discussion/assessment', a chilling reality in itself.

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