A Girl Sat
A personal response to the madness that was the Great War
Let me tell you how I came to write this poem.
On my lunch break, it was my habit to take a walk through the city to a cobble-stoned lane where I would sit in the window of a cheap cafe. The popular cafe interior was very small and became very crowded at lunchtime. Clattering dishes and hissing of the coffee machine echoed over the noisy lunchtime chattering of bored businessmen in dark suits. Along a large front window, facing the lane, ran a small wooden bench reserved for people who were eating alone.
Every day, book in hand, I made a bee-line for the bench making sure I was one of the lucky ones able to secure the desired spot inside. The unlucky ones sat outside on rickety metal tables balanced gingerly on the uneven cobbles.
Taking up my position gazing through the window at the unlucky ones I often let my mind wander through space and time, imagining their lives. It was also my habit to have a notebook handy should I spy or overhear something of interest I might use in a story later.
I was reading a history of the 20th century attempting to better understand the cause and the lead-up to WW1. The first use of aircraft in war, the use of mustard gas, and other innovations were rattling around my mind when I saw her.
Taking up a table in my direct view, drawing my attention away from my book, the girl was beautiful. She had a French Poodle at her side. Suddenly I was transported to a French courtyard on the eve of WW1.
Twenty-five million men across Europe had been drafted into armies due to a long period of social unrest. Violent street protests by men seeking work persisted. Getting the men off the streets became a priority when cutting them down with cavalry and drawn sabers didn’t work too well.
The stage was set.
Like an unlit firecracker yearning for a flame, the armies sat poised.
Poised for action.
Archduke Franz Ferdinand provided the flame and the Great War was off and running.
— — — — THE POEM — — — —
A girl sat at a table
It has green legs
She was very beautiful
She tapped her foot
Against the brickwork
Of the old courtyard.
An airplane flew across the deep blue sky
A chocolate wrapper
Lazily cartwheeled across the yard
Nudged along by the gentle warm summer breeze
A bird landed nearby
She took no notice.
A locomotive whistle
Echoed across the even green pastures
A tree branch lightly fell to the ground
A poodle in a red waistcoat
Yelped for his mistresses attention
The radio barked out commands.
The beautiful girl sipped her coffee.
The radio barked out commands
See our enemy
See his mark
The mark of Cain
Cut out that mark forever
A column files through The Arch de Sadness.
A thick fog lifts in the morning warmth
The thick ooze swallowed the horses
By their own will the men were there
Let me count for you the measures of madness
The Sombre — Ypres
No one counted the horses.
As the gentlest summer breeze
Of the most perfect summer’s day Ebbed
A red waist-coated poodle yelped
A branch fell to the ground
A locomotive whistled
A bird landed nearby.
A chocolate wrapper flew
A plane roared
Across the clear blue sky
A beautiful girl
Sat a table
And sipped her coffee.
— — — — — End — — — —
Thank you for reading my poem.
I welcome your comments.
I am sure they will help me to improve my writing.
