war poem (Remove filter)
I do not know when mom will return
I wait here for the promise that I was given
I am waiting for my food
I hear people crying
And I can’t go outside as I’m alone
I hear the thunder of jets
The sound of bombs hitting the ground
I am really afraid as to what I should do
I really think I should go out
But I can’t break the promise I gave
I feel the hunger rising
And the pain of m...
Friday 8th June 2018 5:27 am
"We can't risk losing people,
Killed in action, far away.
What'll happen to their wives,
Their children, the next of kin?
We have to end the war,
But, none the less, we are
Too proud, too good, too vigorous,
To just give up, to just retreat.
Let's see what happens," did they say,
And to end a war, to save their lives,
They killed two hundred thousand people,
And didn't stop at all.
Sunday 26th July 2015 1:42 pm
Open your books,
On page seventy-two.
Read these sides,
And learn about the past,
Which is not anymore.
We learn about war,
About hate and racism,
And they call it past,
And close their eyes
To not see reality.
One day, they will,
I hope, will understand,
That to be in denial,
Doesn't help altogether.
Because in the end,
Nothing changed a...
Sunday 26th July 2015 11:31 am
Slamming Flies (Gallipoli – 5th June 1915)
Arriving at the Dardanelles
guns flashing, the sound of rifle fire.
they heaved our ship right up to the shore.
We sat there waiting for the dawn
And saw a big marquee
that made us think of village fetes.
We all rushed to it
like boys going to a circus
but found it all laced up.
Unlaced and opened, It was full of corpses.
Wednesday 21st May 2014 7:23 pm
Home By Christmas
I fear I let my feelings rule my head,
that you would have no trouble getting leave.
You would be home by Christmas as they said.
All through the Autumn, sleeping cold in bed,
I dreamt of all our marriage would achieve.
I fear I let my feelings rule my head.
Not since the day that both of us were wed
had we missed carols, sung that holy eve.
You would be home by Ch...
Wednesday 14th May 2014 2:15 pm
Angel of Mons
Perhaps it was the heartbeat of the guns
Thump-thumping in a cacophonic rage,
or the secret, sly, scurry of the rats
that banished sleep those first nights at the front.
For when I marched, the sky became a wall,
the moonlight through the dust made me believe
I saw some great cathedral in the gloom,
with windows of stained glass cast from the stars.
Friday 8th February 2013 11:18 am