Hardship and war, my muses, walked out
Packed their bags with my uniforms
And a hundred different things for which
A civilian has no uses
Rifle replaced by pension
All that now remains
Is a set of shiny medals
And memories that will fade
To everything there is a season
My time to kill and heal has passed
Blood and trauma in equal measure
Both sides of that tarnished coin
So I must march to pastures new
And ply again my craft
Sharpen the poet's pencil
New stories I shall tell
Writing is what happens
Between procrastination and day job
The caffeine-fuelled hunt for inspiration
And fulfilment of completion
I will write of love and family
Whatever life delivers
Trivial, bizarre or mundane
I will capture on the page
Barry Alexander
Doha
November 2014
YOU ARE READING
Coalescence
PoetryI am attempting to branch out and free myself from the constraints imposed by the label 'war poet'. I once wrote a poem (sadly lost) which voiced my frustration at my apparent inability to write about anything other than combat and its aftermath. ...
