This Trench

This trench is no cenotaph
but filled with the fallen
for whom seconds ago
the whistle was calling;

Thank God to be missed
by an inch to the left
running not forward
but headlong to death.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

The Shore

We buried the dead
under the truce of a white flag
ten thousand miles from the shore,
wounds filled with foreign soil,
youth stolen from them all.

In trenches of truth
we piled pals
hundreds deep to the wall;
humanity buried
beneath lime and lies
on a scale like never before.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011