Cold the wet horizon lies in silhouetted waste
that runs from where my footsteps fall in hesitation’s haste.
Upon this pitted road of ruin, blackened earth from bombs and blood,
my destination’s certain claim is death here in this mud.
In Liege the madness started, as all declared their stance to war,
that by autumnal equinox the fallen rose half million more.
The stench of death in mix of gas recoils my stepping’s gait,
yet onward to what’s still undone denies this bitter state.
The brazen mud and field works bare the corpses of the dead,
yet standing forest memories form the lamp posts of this hellish stead.
Gallipoli, Verdun, ring fallen echoes home,
yet nothing ranked the senselessness of what we faced in Somme.
The spring of 1918 held hope for millions dead,
yet those of us who stand here still, returned this hope with dread.
Now upon this backing rush storm troopers raised in ire,
whispers of remembrance rekindling this fire.
Now we drive in final push, Amiens and silent Somme,
knowing Hindenburg awaits with more of hell to come.
I count the eyes remaining of the faces that I’ve loved,
these brothers mine, some traces of their angels raised above.
I feel the dank of weary hearts held in courageous hope,
I sense the end is near now, and pray that I can cope…
one more push, one more trench,
another bloodied night in stench
that fills my nostrils sorely with a pain I’ll never loose,
resolve to carry on in strength, relent to those I choose
to aim a fatal blow toward or drop to sudden cover,
waiting for that one last breath in life or as death’s lover.
Over the top boys!
6 responses to “WWI – Remembrance”
As if you stood there right now in the moment. Incredible work, Jay. You pulled me right in there with you! Powerful!!!!!!!!
Thanks Heather! I’m glad you could feel it. It must have been one heck of an ordeal for all those involved. God bless them.
You served them well, Jay. This poem is more than worthy of a publication. This tribute of researched details, I am sure could go far.It is one of my favorites of yours. God bless you right back!!
Thanks Heather! Truly appreciate you!
This is incredible.. the sadness of the past, and it seems we are yet again ready to open the box of Pandora… despite all you read or see nothing can compare to that hell.. the mud and blood. I wonder that the world could ever return to some sense after that. A wonderful great poem..
Thanks Bjorn. History, doing what it does. Repeating itself it seems. Take care my friend.