Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-aftermath July 21, 2016

A hundred years ago these fields yielded

grief, fear, bodies, blood, and mud.

Now, wheat dries golden in the sun,

leaves wave in the breeze over crater scars,

While the earth returns bones and bombshells

to the surface: a century of slowly expulsing  the detritus of war

extruding shrapnel from its pockmarked body with the new grass.



Watching the history channel, and amazed to learn that even today, Belgian farmers keep bins in their yards for unexploded shells they find, and the army comes by regularly to collect and destroy them.  What a legacy a hundred years later!  I’m just finishing Anne Perry’s World War One series which has made trench warfare very vivid.


7 Responses to “poem-aftermath”

  1. […] via poem-aftermath — Shawn L. Bird […]

  2. Things which are buried, constantly get heaved up. It is wise of the Belgians and French Flemings to keep close watch on what is still there, in the ways of unexploded ordnance.

  3. dornahainds Says:

    Talk about your dangerous farmlands. And the treasures reaped after so many, many years of exploitation and devastation..

  4. merrildsmith Says:

    I can’t imagine the horrors of those trenches.
    So many places with unexploded bombs of various wars. I heard an NPR piece on Viet Nam where they teach children in school to look out for them. And a few months ago in the city of Bath, they found an unexploded bomb from WWII.

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