Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The young German prisoner has lost a leg and lies on a bed with the stump bandaged a mixture of white and red. You tend him with what you have and with what little German you know. Other patients lie about with others standing by the door waiting to be seen with minor wounds in flesh or head and others their faces covered are the dead. You take a break and stand outside for a smoke. The rain has stopped and a dull mist hovers over the way. You hear the guns carried on the wind. Tanks pass by and up the road and soldiers move in the rear with their guns and gear. You finish the cigarette and flick the **** away. Two more have died their faces covered. Another young soldier lies nearby his head bandaged hands aquiver finger missing calling for his mother in child-like cries. Over the other side another dies.
0
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Battle and Death 1944
The young German prisoner has lost a leg and lies on a bed with the stump bandaged a mixture of white and red. You tend him with what you have and with what little German you know. Other patients lie about with others standing by the door waiting to be seen with minor wounds in flesh or head and others their faces covered are the dead. You take a break and stand outside for a smoke. The rain has stopped and a dull mist hovers over the way. You hear the guns carried on the wind. Tanks pass by and up the road and soldiers move in the rear with their guns and gear. You finish the cigarette and flick the **** away. Two more have died their faces covered. Another young soldier lies nearby his head bandaged hands aquiver finger missing calling for his mother in child-like cries. Over the other side another dies.
TerryCollett
Written by
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem