Adlestrop Revisited
 

Portslade's what we call it now -
A place partaken of at risk.
Memorial airship, passing; brisk
Our pilgrimage, fulfilling vow.
The fallen we will not forget,
Nor turn our eyes from that void place
Where nemeses sped down from space -
Its seared soil radioactive yet.
Each generation sloughs its due
Of mutant burden; some survive,
Though none can truly say we thrive -
We plucky band, we lucky few.
That etymology, laid bare?
It's 'port' and 'slaYed - [wh]Y?': portmanteau
In sound; in word-upheaval, woe.
We're left; they're dead. We weep, mid-air.

Doom-destined Dwindledom
 

Obliterated !!
Overthrown,
Oblivious -
Obtusely.
Obloquy!
Ousted,
Owing.
Obit..
Our.
Oh..
O!

Hi Graham,

"we lucky few" is acid. Good reworking of that line, which Stendhal also liked.

Cheers,
John

August, 1965

The smallest and youngest came first
We could hear them before we could see them
A kilometer down from the grandstand
Out of sight past a rise in the road

We could hear them before we could see them
A kingdom of crickets was chirping
Out of sight past a rise in the road
The children were marching and chanting

A kingdom of crickets was chirping
We still could not quite understand them
The children were marching and chanting
We waited, like crows on a fence

We still could not quite understand them
The twentieth year since the sun burst
We waited, like crows on a fence
The marchers now almost upon us

The twentieth year since the sun burst
They have emptied the country of children
The marchers now almost upon us
Holding pennants and banners and chanting

They have emptied the country of children
Fifty thousand here marching this morning
Holding pennants and banners and chanting
“No more Hiroshima, no more…”

Fifty thousand here marching this morning
Through twisted and savaged gray concrete
“No more Hiroshima, no more…”
“No more Nagasaki, no more…”

Through twisted and savaged gray concrete
A kilometer down from the grandstand
“No more Nagasaki, no more…”
The smallest and youngest came first.