War by Jackson Pollock (1947)

And when the war is done and youth stone dead,
I’d toddle safely home and die — in bed.
—Siegfried Sassoon

A second world war explodes on manila paper
deliberately ignores conventional pictorial space

Grim faces and human debris drip, pour
splatter alongside a poised hooded figure

fierce, crucified in expression of the destruction
of war, no limits to the universal, hellish horrors.

Governed by line, agitated, the dead in the trenches
dissolve in blood red anger. The inconceivable grief

of their mothers burst into volcanic sorrow.
Can any remorse undo the execution of the soul?

* * * * *

South African born Australian poet Martha Landman now resides in Townsville.  Her work has appeared in Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure and The South Towmsville micro poetry journal. Martha is a psychologist who loves all things writing and reading.

Her submissions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.