I Cannot Speak of War
by Pat Harvey
I can only speak of soldiers: captured
in nearly a century of photographs.
Old eyes in young faces who wear
integrity as easily as their crisp
dress blues and browns.
I can speak of my grandfather: the doughboy
learning a bit of the old parlez-vous
with gay mademoiselles baring
frantic smiles and foxholed nights
when the chauchaut rifle was useless.
You can read the rest of the poem here.
At Wild Rose Reader, I have an original fairy tale poem titled The Giant’s Magic Harp Sings.
I’m doing the Poetry Friday Roundup at Wild Rose Reader today.