The First World War produced men who could string a fewwords together.They were qualified to do that because they witnessed first hand the 'Killing Machine'
This poem is a meagre attempt to get into their thoughts at the time.


Hear My Song

Hear my song in the dead of night,
For God and Country we were sent to fight.
See the skulls exposed, bleached pure white,
In the dawn's fair mist, in the early morning light.

The friends I knew no longer call,
I walked beside them, I saw them fall.
Like sheaves of corn in summer pasture,
Victims of the machine guns rapture.

They tumbled down as a Autumn Leaves,
No bugles blew, no show of wreathes.
Its sad to sweep his poor remains.
In mud caked sacks, with bloody stains.

In that sack now lies my friend,
A letter to his family will I send.
He was a hero,he fought so well,
Little will they know of his true farwell.

So hear my song in the dead of night,
We came for glory boys, a damn good fight.
But you who were given the final test,
Shed your blood at your place of rest.

Copyright Sid Gardner November 2010.



Poetry by Sid Gardner
Read 466 times
Written on 2010-11-12 at 17:20

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


shells
You have done a fabulous job, not a meagre attempt Sid. Your third stanza for me was the most emotional, as at that falling there is no glory, just the brutal honesty of death witnessed.
2010-11-13


Phyllis J. Rhodes
This is excellent! I believe you captured what so many in that particularly brutal war experienced. I hope you won't mind a couple of suggestions that I believe would help the reader. In the first line of the third stanza, consider taking out the "a"
between as and Autumn. In the 2nd line of the 4th stanza consider changing "will I send" to "I'll send". Those are the only two places that stopped the flow slightly as I read. But the story you tell and the flow overall is really very good.
2010-11-12



This is a tribute and a touching complement to the poems written by those who managed to survive and write. What I know about war, firsthand, is nothing. But words convey, words have impact, words linger as testament and warning. We ignore and suffer the consequences.

Oh, damn, I'm philosophizing.

Great poem.
jim
2010-11-12


NicholasG
I can only imagine the maelstrom of thought going through the mind of a soldier in a trench at this time. How the survivors could ever slow down their thought processes to meet the challenge of peace is beyond me.
Very interesting insight.
Thanks Nick
2010-11-12