As we approach 11/11 11 AM , remembrance day. I have re-posted this poem. I have rewritten parts. I looker at a pitcher of the lane. So none nondescript , you would realized it was a part of Hell man-made Hell , 1916.
Jo , had like the other members of ,the company ,
Made his way to sunken road , by now ,
Mouth dry , pipe griped between his teeth ,
Took the smoke down deep in to his lungs ,
He'd recovered from his bullet wound sustained ,
At the Dardanelles , Gallipoli ,
The wound throbbed , gave , Jo , a reminding pain ,
He shrugged it off , as best he could ,
So many of his pal's already dead ,
Many too with out legs or arms , faces , their family jewels ,
Blown away ,
Some with out minds , the living dead ,
Could not now shrug off what were suffered at Gallipoli ,
The orders had been the battalion was to leave for the lane ,
That between the British and the Germans ,
Under the eyes of the Germans , dug in 500 yards in front ,
Jo had seen what lay a head , open ground , no cover at all ,
Ground were open , Jo , felt naked , his old wound throbbed all the more ,
The artillery had been firing for days now , surly no living thing could survive ,
Apart for the rats , they always survived , those rats no mater what ,
Thats what he and his pals had so been so told ,
''Bollocks'' , thought , Jo , '' heard it all before '' ,
The order given , '' fix bayonets '' , Jo did as ordered , puffing away on his pipe ,
Jo , took one last puff , taped the pipe out , put it away in breast pocket of his
Tunic ,
Exchange hand shakes , said '' see you later '' , '' good luck , pal '' ,
Many so young , hardly old enough to shave , vomiting with fear ,
Some wet their army pant's , some even shat them self's ,
Dutch courage from the army rum gained , only to vomit it back up ,
''RIGHT , lads stand too , the Sargent ordered ,
Jo , turned , faced forward, he spat , nothing came out ,
Thy made there way to the sunken road , Their were trees , giving shade ,
The lay , crouched , some smocked , no one spoke , all deep in thought ,
The whistle's shrilled , must of sounded like a call to death ,
Jo , pushed ,held back , fiend a slip for a second or two , gaining a foot or two ,
So give the German machine guns move on down the line ,
Slipped , trip , two feet behind , he'd learned that at Gallipoli could mean life or
Death,
He'd learned so much at Gallipoli , the stupidity of the generals most of all ,
Up they went , meany soon shot dead , or wounded ,
Lines of men lay dead over the ground , all around ,
Before they had gone very far ,
Some made it a few yards , each time they got up , more died ,
Three times they got up to charge , each time more died , or lay wounded ,
All in a line , the Germans could not miss , like shooting ducks , at the fairground ,
They were about to get up and goo again ,
When an officer , said , '' NO , NO '' , GET BACK , LADS '' , '' BACK '' ,
'' Just received orders to stand down '', '' thank God '' , or more likely thank fook ,
Many said ,
Jo , had survived the first day of the Somme , many so many did not ,
Jo , were a survivor , before he were a veteran ,
Some never did , died from wounds received ,
Bullet in the belly , exposing intestines , lungs and harts , still beating ,
Bullet in the head , brains exposed , eyes still showing life ,
Jo , quiet , took out his pipe , filled , lit it , and become thoughtful ,
'' That will do for today '' , '' We'll , have another goo tomorrow ''
Said the officer ,
Total casualties of the battalion that day , over 480 , 160 killed
PART TWO
Jo , did bother remembering the names the replacements ,
Saw on point in doing so , he were one of less than 20 still a live ,
Who landed on that bloody beach at Gallipoli ,
Jo , just called them , Jack , it were best he'd could do
Get to know their name would be kind to get know them ,
To care for them , then suddenly a lone bullet , a stray shell ,
Then they'd be gone , Jo , had no more tears left to weep ,
He'd seen them come , he'd see them go all to soon misfortunet Jacks
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Poet
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 566 times
Written on 2011-11-03 at 17:18
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JO THE SOMME THE SUNKEN LANE
Jo , stood to has he were ordered ,Jo , had like the other members of ,the company ,
Made his way to sunken road , by now ,
Mouth dry , pipe griped between his teeth ,
Took the smoke down deep in to his lungs ,
He'd recovered from his bullet wound sustained ,
At the Dardanelles , Gallipoli ,
The wound throbbed , gave , Jo , a reminding pain ,
He shrugged it off , as best he could ,
So many of his pal's already dead ,
Many too with out legs or arms , faces , their family jewels ,
Blown away ,
Some with out minds , the living dead ,
Could not now shrug off what were suffered at Gallipoli ,
The orders had been the battalion was to leave for the lane ,
That between the British and the Germans ,
Under the eyes of the Germans , dug in 500 yards in front ,
Jo had seen what lay a head , open ground , no cover at all ,
Ground were open , Jo , felt naked , his old wound throbbed all the more ,
The artillery had been firing for days now , surly no living thing could survive ,
Apart for the rats , they always survived , those rats no mater what ,
Thats what he and his pals had so been so told ,
''Bollocks'' , thought , Jo , '' heard it all before '' ,
The order given , '' fix bayonets '' , Jo did as ordered , puffing away on his pipe ,
Jo , took one last puff , taped the pipe out , put it away in breast pocket of his
Tunic ,
Exchange hand shakes , said '' see you later '' , '' good luck , pal '' ,
Many so young , hardly old enough to shave , vomiting with fear ,
Some wet their army pant's , some even shat them self's ,
Dutch courage from the army rum gained , only to vomit it back up ,
''RIGHT , lads stand too , the Sargent ordered ,
Jo , turned , faced forward, he spat , nothing came out ,
Thy made there way to the sunken road , Their were trees , giving shade ,
The lay , crouched , some smocked , no one spoke , all deep in thought ,
The whistle's shrilled , must of sounded like a call to death ,
Jo , pushed ,held back , fiend a slip for a second or two , gaining a foot or two ,
So give the German machine guns move on down the line ,
Slipped , trip , two feet behind , he'd learned that at Gallipoli could mean life or
Death,
He'd learned so much at Gallipoli , the stupidity of the generals most of all ,
Up they went , meany soon shot dead , or wounded ,
Lines of men lay dead over the ground , all around ,
Before they had gone very far ,
Some made it a few yards , each time they got up , more died ,
Three times they got up to charge , each time more died , or lay wounded ,
All in a line , the Germans could not miss , like shooting ducks , at the fairground ,
They were about to get up and goo again ,
When an officer , said , '' NO , NO '' , GET BACK , LADS '' , '' BACK '' ,
'' Just received orders to stand down '', '' thank God '' , or more likely thank fook ,
Many said ,
Jo , had survived the first day of the Somme , many so many did not ,
Jo , were a survivor , before he were a veteran ,
Some never did , died from wounds received ,
Bullet in the belly , exposing intestines , lungs and harts , still beating ,
Bullet in the head , brains exposed , eyes still showing life ,
Jo , quiet , took out his pipe , filled , lit it , and become thoughtful ,
'' That will do for today '' , '' We'll , have another goo tomorrow ''
Said the officer ,
Total casualties of the battalion that day , over 480 , 160 killed
PART TWO
Jo , did bother remembering the names the replacements ,
Saw on point in doing so , he were one of less than 20 still a live ,
Who landed on that bloody beach at Gallipoli ,
Jo , just called them , Jack , it were best he'd could do
Get to know their name would be kind to get know them ,
To care for them , then suddenly a lone bullet , a stray shell ,
Then they'd be gone , Jo , had no more tears left to weep ,
He'd seen them come , he'd see them go all to soon misfortunet Jacks
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Poet
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 566 times
Written on 2011-11-03 at 17:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Leovinus |
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Lawrence Beck |
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shells |
