Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Marco Jul 2020
A song of shell and thunder whistles past my ear
the crack of distant laughter, empty and hollow,
your voice amid the terror stands out to me so clear
while heavy shrapnel nestles between my ribs.

"Mother of God!" one cries out in horror -
and clammy hands reaching for the collar of my shirt,
tugging, ripping, sending buttons flying steep as bullets,
for  frightened boys to burrow into my chest and pull out the lead.

Your eyes are focused in the blur, a raging sea of darkest green
bewildered at the sight of a deep red river
pouring towards the valley of my hip, the small dip between
bone and muscle, obscenely pooling like a strange lake;

Inviting you for a swim, had the barrel of a German gun then
missed its mark and pointed left; alas, I sit
and bleed to death underneath your fear-stained gaze; I apologize
and in the haze I lift my arm to gently graze the dried mud on your cheek.

The trench has lost another light, or what was left of its sorry embers;
I pray you will sleep sound tonight, ears shut tight from
screaming, laughing, crying, dying - just think,
if it bears not too much pain, of my love, and speak my name when

My mother asks about her son - with steady voice you tell her
that with a smile on my lips and a warmth in my breast
I thought of her, and passed on.
This is inspired by poetry emerging from WWI / the battle of Dunkirk.
Chris Slade Apr 2020
Let me get this straight, it's 1914.
Arch Duke somebody or other
gets shot in Sarra-******-Yavo…
And Austro-Hungary declares a
war on Serbia? So?
We, within no time…
and in the blink of an eye,
the whole bleedin' world
goes to war!..Why?

I had a great Uncle. He WAS great!
A proud Yorkhireman, by chance,
gets blown to bits in a trench
on Boxing day, in France!
Just a day after watching a sodding
football match... Our lads against
the bleeding Germans
in No Man’s Land… No way!?
Yeh? Yeh! On Christmas effing Day?

Am I going out of my mind?

“But, there’s worse to come…
“the ****** Germans won 2-1…!”

And get this, right… where I live now,
the great and the good
played a hunch…back then.
“I know we’ll give our fighting boys
a send off.  A slap up lunch!!…
So the Mayor, Civic Officers
and Councillors
waited on the squaddies’ tables.
To gee them up.
And so it did!
“Good Luck” bellowed the bulbs
outside the Kursaal Dome…
After the Brown Windsor,
the Mutton and Plum Duff
and, as if the ignominy of the call to arms,
wasn't quite enough...
it wouldn't just get tough
it became obvious; downright plain,
that many of those worthy Worthing men
wouldn’t be coming home again.

That’s the trouble with war… It's a killer!
Terry Collett Oct 2019
bundled dead
onto wagons,
and you saw them
as you marched
past with others
onto the Front.

Some lay
eyes open
staring into death,
others lying
face down
as if they
shared a secret
in their dying.

You pushed
sights seen
to the back
of your mind,
closed it
behind doors
of rooms
inside your head
marked: dead.

Officers gave orders,
non-com officers
moved on the men
to places won
and lost again.
A man talks to his dead grandfather
Mark Sep 2019
We were ordered by military law

To elope, even before our boat had hit the shore

The bullets knocked us about, thats for sure

Dead cobbers scattered adrift, from the infantrys 1st corp

Now some mates from my own platoon, 1, 2, 3 now 4

Nobody should ever have to witness such gore

Did not matter if you were rich or poor

You were just a target, in this almighty war

If the politicians demanded, they would easily send more

Finally, the west encircled the mad beast, with a rambunctious roar

But they let the Reds go forth, who savaged all the women, like a wild boar

What was the main aim and what was the true meaning, deep down at its core, for this unholy friggin’ war?
Phillip Jul 2019
For King And Country

Brave men,scared men and cowards
All awaiting a whistle
Straight jackets and wards will be their award
For death is a single bullet whilst your life fizzles away
But no,ye shall carry on
   For King and Country

With the dropping of water seeming as a tear
A never ending stream is not all that you can hear
But the monstrous roar of the big guns draw near
The earth is lifted and the mere trees can’t compare
    For King and Country

You,alone,sat behind the trenches
Death mere inches

The world so dark and lifeless
You must be selfless

A world too far to grasp
Horror too near to behold

This world all too senseless
A world all too grim

   For King and Country
nick armbrister May 2019
The silver gray monolith floated on the air getting its bearings
After an hour they located their position
Then they started their engines and climbed higher
Big diesel engines taking the Zeppelin higher
Out of range of ground guns and flimsy British planes
Which were slow and antiquated death traps
They found their target and bombed at will
Killing innocent English civilians in their beds at night
The victims in a new chapter of warfare
Death from the night sky utterly without warning
The English had nothing like this
No terror bomber weapon to strike at night
Hitting the enemy at will with high explosives
Raid after raid got through month after month
But Britain endured and absorbed the blows
Science provided the answer to halt the menace
New aeroplanes were made with high performance
Being fast high climbers to catch the Zeps
Then bringing their guns and small bombs to bear
New tracer and incendiary bullets ignited the gas
The six hundred foot airships burnt like candles
Incinerating their crews alive for they had no ‘chutes
England was now safe from the marauding Germans
At least till the bombing planes came
Then the game started all over again...
Aimee McDonald Dec 2018
I've seen your trenches,and I've seen your graves,
I've heard of your weapons and heard of your slaves,
I've imagined the fumes and imagined the rain,
I've imagined the sights but can't imagine the pain.
Not from bayonets,nor shrapnel blasting out,
But from the vision of the gunshot taking the Fritz down.
From the riddling guilt as your hand pulled the trigger,
Which wiped out the unknown,young German figure.
From the nightmares of his family collapsing at the news,
That their beloved son had succumbed to his wounds.
You look over these beaten fields awash with confusion,
Wondering how on Earth humans partake in such delusion.
How they thought,somehow,it'd be the most fitting plan:
"To sort out all of the world's problems-set man after man!".
You walked out on that field regardless, till your last dying breath.
And you made sure,under all circumstances, to fight until death.
For this I'm forever grateful and still can't suffice,
Why we give you two minutes a year, when you gave us your life.
Erin Beer Nov 2018
In 1914 when the cold wind blew,
Through no-mans land with a familiar tune.

In two opposing languages,
Both sides sang,
In perfect harmony,
Their voices rang out.

Two brave souls who started it all,
Risked their lives for a game of ball.

Germany and UK played side-by-side,
Enemies who became friends despite their divide.

A Christmas truce and a miracle of war,
A handshake that would become much, much more.
WW1 truce - Christmas day game of football. Inspired by the Morrison's 2014 advert.
Next page