MOM POEMS, LOVE POEMS and WAR POEMS

No, Bill, I’m not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
(The cove be’ind the sandbags ain’t a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes ‘em good and ‘ard I doesn’t ‘ate the Boche,
I guess they’re mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
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She

I’m waiting for the man I hope to wed.
I’ve never seen him - that’s the funny part.
I promised I would wear a rose of red,
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Light rain is falling in Central Park
but not on Upper Fifth Avenue or Central Park West
where sun and sky are yellow and blue
Winds are gusting on Washington Square
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