Pigeon Letters


One Summer afternoon

In this battlefield

Where soldiers toiled

And shot their enemies

Where wars begun

These armies in longing

Of families, of lovers

Of normalcy and life

Of parties and debaucheries

Of dinners and dances

Of racing horses and carpentries

These wars have robbed

Stolen their status quos

It is not a mind game

Not a love for the opposed

Not a brotherhood for the nemesis

No Christmas songs played

No proper funerals and wakes

Vicious not gentle

It is a life and death’s derby




One Summer evening

In this savage trench

Under smoked, pierced skies

Where peace abhors

The sleepy eyes cannot slumber

A wait of many pigeon letters

From families, from lovers

They didn’t know what to know

They didn’t hear what to hear

There are unexpected expectations

When the goods are departed

The evils arrive

There were warnings and signs

But babies were born

And smiles were shown

But here in this undomesticated terrain

Where foods were spoiled

And thirst condemned

All were written in mortal hands

On these pigeon letters







About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Pigeon Letters

  1. Catie Eliza says:

    truth hurts. Like the pigeons. :]

  2. Touching… I am reminded of “the pity of war , the pity war distilled” by Wilfred Owen

  3. Sandy Green says:

    Thanks for liking my post. I hope to return to read more of your poetry.

  4. aroomazainab says:

    It makes my thought wander along the paths of cruel times… Very strong words ! Efficiently composed.

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