OUR WEEK AT THE FRONT - WORLD WAR ONE (Completed)
We were in the trenchesIt was our week
At The Front
No a tack planed
It were rit cold & rit proper dank
With us were a new replacement
He sat wide wake all the time he could
Late at night he'd be writing
He fished out some paper & pencil
Oblivious of where he were & of us
A he wrote he humde some tune or other
He'd stop with pencil he conducted as he humbd
Just before dawn he began to sing - AND oh what a voice he had!
His voice carried up down our trench - over no mans land across
To the other sides trench who listened - aplorded as did us
Then there were the sound of an incoming - WIZ BANG - landed - exploded
He wrote & sang no more
Just a red stain in the trench where he'd sat writing humming & singing
His right hand landed close to me - pencil still held between thumb & finger
I had his blood & body parts over me - I wore him for the rest of the week!
Scraps of paper blew set on fire - no one would now ever know of him
I never know his name - were no point hear today gone in a day or so
BUT - I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HIM TO MY DYING DAY
None will hear the song he'd been writing that quiet day on the Western Front
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith Of Thanet
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 303 times
Written on 2021-03-14 at 20:40
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