Given that tomorrow is remembrance Sunday, I'm posting some more war poems. This time by WW2 soldier, Keith Douglas, who was killed in France, aged 24, shortly after the D-Day landings. They're a bit bleak, so perhaps best not to read them if you're on a downer. I quite like them though.VergissmeinnichtThree weeks gone and the combatants gonereturning over the nightmare groundwe found the place again, and foundthe soldier sprawling in the sun.The frowning barrel of his gunovershadowing. As we came onthat day, he hit my tank with onelike the entry of a demon.Look. Here in the gunpit spoilthe dishonoured picture of his girlwho has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnichtin a copybook gothic script.We see him almost with content,abased, and seeming to have paidand mocked at by his own equipmentthat's hard and good when he's decayed.But she would weep to see todayhow on his skin the swart flies move;the dust upon the paper eyeand the burst stomach like a cave.For here the lover and killer are mingledwho had one body and one heart.And death who had the soldier singledhas done the lover mortal hurt.