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From Amiens upon the Somme Across the land into the Salient Our brave men toed the ebbing line Through wire and mines Through mud and blood Through many men and horses shred Under sun and moon Through wet and flake Little rest they won as they fought The testing yards and inching miles The scent of death clear in their heads Their nostrils burning from hell resent Cauterised wounds some munition singed a deathly end for some Their eyes by night a blazing fired earth of blues Oranges yellows Reds Their ears ringing whistles and drums A sense of booming dread as all around the melee continued Death by death, Man by man, Son by son Precious sons many in numbers they did succumb To the battle cry of walk not run Blood curdling in their gas filled lungs Fungi in their rotting boots Sweat and tears in itchy suits Muscles aching tendons taught Nerves for some as they were next To mount and face the hidden land Where fate would deal its dreaded blow On to meet the dreadful wall of death Choice was none, no turning back They stood as force though force would guide, those of fear and wisdom's stand, Over, or rest where shot by those by order for descent © Robert Kingston 17.10.14
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
Visions from hell
From Amiens upon the Somme Across the land into the Salient Our brave men toed the ebbing line Through wire and mines Through mud and blood Through many men and horses shred Under sun and moon Through wet and flake Little rest they won as they fought The testing yards and inching miles The scent of death clear in their heads Their nostrils burning from hell resent Cauterised wounds some munition singed a deathly end for some Their eyes by night a blazing fired earth of blues Oranges yellows Reds Their ears ringing whistles and drums A sense of booming dread as all around the melee continued Death by death, Man by man, Son by son Precious sons many in numbers they did succumb To the battle cry of walk not run Blood curdling in their gas filled lungs Fungi in their rotting boots Sweat and tears in itchy suits Muscles aching tendons taught Nerves for some as they were next To mount and face the hidden land Where fate would deal its dreaded blow On to meet the dreadful wall of death Choice was none, no turning back They stood as force though force would guide, those of fear and wisdom's stand, Over, or rest where shot by those by order for descent © Robert Kingston 17.10.14
#war#death#soldier#gas#ww1#uniform
Written by
rob-kingston
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
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