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The Weeping Angel [song version]

The Weeping Angel

 

She passed this way and tended to our pain,

administered our wounds and eased our fears

telling us that we would be home again.

stayed by our beds and whispered in our ears,

 

She was gentle, but never weak or frail,

Remember Nellie Spindler from Wakefield

the only woman killed at Passchendaele

An angel weeps for her in Flanders Field

 

Once...

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nellie spindler   wakefield   nurse   WW1   passchendaele   remembrance

Hill 60

poppies blood
on the green grass
on the hills of mud
away they pass...
 
Β© by Jan Theuninck

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WW1   Hill 60   Jan Theuninck   Zillebeke   Ypres   Great War

Shot at dawn

drugged by morphine
the blue light comes to you
when the squad opens fire
the coward goes to hell
the officers are heroes

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shot at dawn   execution   squad   coward   ww1

War museum.

watch that iron beast
plowing through those fields
towards us
unstoppable
i think he is enjoying every single moment
there is nothing we can do
avoiding looks impossible
maybe it will get stuck
barbed wire mess
less likely
by the bloody minute
noise
gets in your head
spreading through your spine
despair takes a firm hold
pulling back seems l...

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WW1

Poppy Rocks Bollocks

This poppy was recently made for me as an impromptu gift, by a young lady who had been researching her family tree, and had found that a male relative had served in the RAF in WW2. I will always treasure it.

 

I wrote the following probably ten years ago.

 

On Armistice Day, (which, by now, all should know,

Marks the end of World War Number One),

I remembered Them, as I sat...

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Armistice Day   WW1   WW2   WW3   Poppy Rocks Ball   Remembrance   Yemen

Yperite

late at night
a mist
fills the valley
without knowing
it suffocates
like a dark power
on the fields
our dead bodies
and under the grass
a brown soil

Β© by Jan Theuninck

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yperite   WW1   "Jan Theuninck"

Why I went back

Why I went back 

A posthumous poem in the voice of Walter Tull – 28.04.1888 to 25.03.1918

 

Until you’ve been under fire

hunkered down in some funk hole

you’ll never know terror, the horror

or the damage to the soul

that just one barrage can do,

before you ever hear the whistle’s blast

that, sadly it’s true

for all too many,

signals this’ll be your last.

 

So...

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Biographical   character   True Story   Fact Based   Walter Tull   Black History   British History   World War   ww1   The Somme   Football   Footballer   Ibrox   Spurs   Northampton Town   war   The horror of war   The trenches   trenches   black British   British Army   Army   Soldier   biography

The Path Becomes Slower (WW1 100 years)

The path becomes slower…

The orders become louder

The constant din of shattering shells

Like pots and pans being washed and put away by you

 

My Mind becomes slower…

The generals clearly don’t know what to do

I take a bullet carefully  from my friend’s arm, as if I’m holding you

 

My sleep has become numb…

The path to the other side has become shorter

Like the one ...

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WW1

Passchendaele (RE-POST)

Passchendaele

[Here's a poem I originally blogged in 2014 with a link to the audio I produced for it on Soundcloud - it is a collection of 8 haikus]

https://soundcloud.com/the-man-at-the-back-1/passchendaele

Blind, wide open, eyes.

Dripping poppy petal tears.

Crimson rivers flow.

 

Fields transformed to mud.

Deep cut trenches scar the earth.

Wounds that will not heal.

...

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passchendaele   re-post   uudio   WW1

Field of Youth

Finding you wasn't hard

Although you all looked the same

Beneath ever changing skies

Stark bright and upright

Against Summer cornflower skies

Bathed in sleepy Autumn hues

Pure, under skirts of wintery slate

Did you think, at twenty two

Generations would stand here

Imagining the glory, the fear

Gripping anger and sorrow

 

Racing clouds allow the sun a turn

You...

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death   France   lest we forget   war   WW1   youth

My Bullet

Forgive me please, my sins, I beg, for I

Am not the glorious hero that they claim;

For I am one who dares to reason why.

 

They spoke of honour, courage, do-or-die;

They showed me how to shoot, to kill, to maim.

Forgive me please, my sins, I beg, for I

 

Am no brave lion, no matter how I try.

Returning home I feel somehow to blame,

For I am one who dares to reason why...

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WW1   villanelle

STILL IN THE WAR, BOYS! - new CD and download from THE CROWS OF ALBION

My music project THE CROWS OF ALBION have released their new CD and DOWNLOAD on 1st October 2014.

21 tracks across 80 minutes featuring 14 poems I first posted to Write Out Loud (see link to tags below) set to musical backings. The remaining songs are covers versions (Motorhead & Bob Dylan) and traditional wartime favourites 'Pack Up Your Troubles...' and 'It's A Long Way To Tipperary'.

Ther...

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cd   download   SITWB   still in the war boys   the crows of albion   ww1

Armistice (Gods Of War)

Armistice (Gods Of War)

The ink upon this document
dries twice as fast as blood
that seeps into this continent
and mixes with the mud.
The war to end all wars they say,
though many have their doubts
that a piece of paper, signed today,
will quell the zealots shouts.

So they dance beneath the spires
of Britannia’s grieving towns
and let the mourning of sad shires
taint her flimsy ta...

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armistice   gods of war   peace   war to end all wars   WW1   WW2   SITWB

Death Of A Poet / Anthem For Doomed Youth

Death Of A Poet

The grey November sky has lost its light,
just one more boy has fallen to his death,
another lad who won’t survive the fight
or pass beyond this final exhaled breath.
Though many soldiers leave this war unheard,
their stories lost forever, never told,
this one will paint us pictures with his words
that will not lose their power or grow old.

A week beyond that fatal can...

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wilfred owen   WW1   Shakespearean Sonet   Anthem For Doomed Youth   tribute

Dead Men's Boots

Dead Men’s Boots

tough as old leather
their souls worn down
eyes vacant of lace
collected by the door
the day they swapped
their pit-boots
for the Kings shilling
and donned their shiny
new military issue

there they stayed
gathering dust
and old potatoes
in their safe grasp
neatly lined
waiting for the return
of father and two sons
to the safety
of their hearth

day after da...

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boots   dead men's boots   richpix   soldiers   telegram   WW1   SITWB

It Is Nothing

But one single bullet, from barrel to throat,
Choked and opened the wounds of the world,
Unfurled in the seat of a phaeton,
Played on like the most tragic of tragedies,
Greek in essence but eastern in substance,
As Sophie wilts in the lap of Austria,
A single shot through the heart of a continent,
The blood racing fast to the carriage beneath,
Signals the start of relentless war lines,
It...

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assassination   death   poem   remembrance   soldier   war   world war one   WW1   WWI

Remember Scarborough!

Remember Scarborough!

The day our town was visited by war,
we hardly had the time to ring the bells.
The bairns were playing on our golden shore
and savouring the fish and seaweed smells,
building castles of sand, collecting shells -
though these were not of molluscs but of steel -
and all at once a thousand blazing hells
fell from the sky with each chiming peel.
Remember Scarborough – ...

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naval attacks. east coast   poster campaign   scarborough   Spenserian stanza form   ww1   SITWB

Canary Girl (Chilwell, July 1st 1918)

Canary Girl (Chilwell, July 1st 1918)

When she went there her eyes were clear,
just seventeen, her skin was fair.
She was my love, my Jeanie dear,
she wore blue ribbons in her hair
of blond, and I could only stare
and wonder at her beauty wild.
The sweet songbird - my only child.

She had a voice that raised good cheer,
when Jeanie sang we were aware
in chapels (and after a beer),
th...

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Ballade Royal Form   bomb factory   Canary Girls   Chilwell   Disaster   WW1   SITWB

White Feather

White Feather

I didn’t see her pass me in the street,
the woman with the husband at the front,
but felt the tell-tale tickle of a feather -
pressed discreetly soft against my palm.
The accusation whispered in a hate-filled voice,
β€œCoward”, dripped with venom from her lips
and I assumed she talked to me, although I couldn’t see
if the feather in my hand was truly white.
For I had returne...

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conscientious objector   cowardice   hate   missunderstanding   pacifist   war poetry   white feather   WW1   SITWB

Craiglockhart (Not Yet Diagnosed Nervous)

Craiglockhart (Not Yet Diagnosed Nervous)

When I kicked over the wheelchair
I couldn’t do the simplest task,
except the epileptic flailing
of my military antimasque.
Turning on the hissing gas-lamp
had me reaching for the mask.
You opened up my mind
and you didn’t even ask.

Sh-sh-sh shut the fuck up,
I think I’m going insane,
I’ve got all these bombs
going off in my brain.
I’m lik...

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Craiglockhart Miliotary Hospital   mental illness   PTSD   richpix   Shell Shock   treatment   WW1   SITWB

War Boys

War Boys

β€œYOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU”

We’re going to war boys,
we’re going to war,
Lord Kitchener asked us
so we formed a corps.
Joe and Jack from the factory,
Ted and Jim from the farm,
the recruiting sergeant assures us
that there’s little chance of harm.
We’re part of the great pals army
and we’ve fallen for his charm
as we march away to war.

We’re in the war boys,
we’re in the ...

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death   ghosts   glory   kitchener   marching song   pals army   poster   ww1   you're country needs you   SITWB

Grandchildren Of The Somme

Grandchildren Of The Somme

the dead lay on the injured earth
all wearing grey death masks of mud
a tally of what life is worth
just bone and sinew flesh and blood

attrition wrought its deadly cost
the river Somme held back its flood
humanity forever lost
just bone and sinew flesh and blood

sixteen miles wide and just six deep
survivors wondered if they could
block out the dreams t...

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kyrielle form   memorial   the somme   war   war poetry   WW1   SITWB

The Bicycle Scout (21st August 1914)

The Bicycle Scout (21st August 1914)

bicycle wheel spins in blood drenched Belgian hops
as the echo of a gunshot fades away
behind the gorse hedgerow Private John Parr drops
amid the yellow hypnotic summer sway
he is the first scythe-cut of Britain’s young crops
many come to deathly harvest from this day
and when the madness eventually stops
for him, and those that follow, the world will...

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bicycle scouts   first british casualty   private john parr   sicilian octave   the great war   WW1   SITWB

OUT OVER THE FIELDS

OUT OVER THE FIELDS

 

Out over the fields a pair of crows circle and dive amongst the hedgerows and green grass.

A watery sun casts its watery face through the spring clouds as the birds disappear from view.

Eighty years ago it was a similar story as two manmade hawks of the air battle to the death; the fields aren’t green but a shell-holed hell with muddy trenches filled with wretched...

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history   ww1   biplanes   air war   battle

FACE A GUN

FACE A GUN

 

How many soldiers were court-martialled,

shot dead, coz of an error of judgement?

β€œYou Private! Take that forty litres of water to A Platoon.”

Fog of war and shell shock.

No water and a bullet in the head.

Of 317 British soldiers in our war to end all wars,

were any of them like the above?

Executed for cowardice in the face of the enemy.

Running scared or...

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executed soldiers   ww1   death   firing squad   errors   fog of war

Angel of Mons

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.

 

...

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angel of mons   war poem   ww1   SITWB

DID IT HURT LOL

 

FALLEN WARRIOR

 

Snapping wire whirling and curling in the airflow,

shot loose by enemy bullets. More punching holes

in varnished wooden wing struts, splintering

and shredding the very wood.

Thud, thud, thud as steel rain peppers

tight fabric fuselage, tearing

great holes and destroying the structure.

Big dragonfly wing, wing ribs visible

in the mor...

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ww1   air war   bullets   fire   combat   biplane   death

Tyne Cot

 

when you left
for the front
you were
living heroes
and now
you are on top
of the hill
where only
poppies
blow..........

Β© by Jan Theuninck

 

Tyne Cot
 
toen jullie 
naar het front
trokken
waren jullie
levende helden
en nu
liggen jullie
op de heuvel
waar alleen
papavers bloeien...
 
...

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"Tyne Cot"   WW1

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