They call me, Mononymous,
even though that is not my name,
I was born, they called me Chuckles,
and that was fine for them,
I thought of myself as Chuck,
but went through life
with a parrot called Chip
on my shoulder.
I couldn’t be a soldier,
and so grew white feathers
which turned into doves of peace,
when, oh when, will the fighting cease.
I flew away
for a year
and a day,
then more.
I was never seen again
upon this foreign shore.
Graeme Sandford 