I close my eyes and try to sleep
But once again they come
A ragged bunch in a boggy trench
With tattered great coats on.
They glance up sharply - am I the enemy?
And then they slowly recognise
That I'm the one who relays their messages
The one who let's you see it through their eyes
They rush towards me and I feel myself bombarded
"Have you seen my Florrie?" one shouts
Another is tugging at my sleeve.
"God help us – we want out!"
They crowd around me, muttering
Some tearing at their hair
"Please tell someone we're still out here!"
"Doesn't anybody care?"
"Do you know when this will end?"
A grey teenager asks
A shell lands behind him
In an orange shower of sparks
I try to speak but have no voice
I want to ease their plight
I am here but not by choice
An interloper in their night
"Tis only 5 days until Christmas,"
Says a young man with old eyes
He smiles wryly down at me
And then he sighs,
"We've been out here for so long,
Just waiting to go home.
Does no-one ask about us,
Ask why we're still here on the Somme?"
"Oh, what the hell does Christmas mean
When we're stuck here in the trenches?
What are we after all,
Just a bunch of miserable wretches?"
My heart is aching for them
As they slowly begin to fade
They blur and merge together
Till they're just a misty shade
And I climb the dissolving ladder
That stood there 90 years ago
I hear the guns crackle and loud explosions
But now there's no fiery glow
Very softly from behind me
I hear one last voice gently say,
"Tell them I was Pvt. Turner
And I died here one cold day.
And if they'd just remember us,
It would almost be O.K."
And then I'm awake and trembling,
I still see it all so clearly
And they are worth remembering
Because they paid for it so dearly!
What did you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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love it
ya reading this makes me tremble: "Says a young man with old eyes"
stunning/sad/
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Re: love it
Hi 'neelsie',
Yes, the young man with old/sad eyes...... ;-)
Take care.
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Awseome
This was amazing. I think people rarely think about the men (of all wars, not just WWI) that go missing during combat. They don't just disappear, they have a story. They probably lived through hell before being killed and forgotten, and those are all stories we will never learn (as their only tellers are exactly what the poem is about- missing). But your poem gave all those men a voice, and that is very important.
If it means anything to you, I'd just like to tell you that I like this poem so much that I am actually going to use it (don't worry, I gave you FULL credit. I will not claim in anyway to have written it) in a poetry project for a Creative Writing class I'm in, in which we search and create a portfolio of great poetry. Great job! -
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Ghosts of the Christmas Trenches....
Clayisajedi, thanks so much for your comment. It was very flattering and meant a lot to me. Then I saw how old you are and it took on a whole new meaning! I am amazed that a 14 year old has so much depth and insight. Your level of maturity is astounding and I feel certain that you will go far in life. You have what it takes (depth, insight and sensitivity to the suffering of others) to be a great writer, whether it be poetry or books. When you're famous I'll ask for your autograph, ok? ;-) Take care and thanks again for your kind words.
Regards,
Sheri
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This chilled me. Not because if was scary but because it was so alive.
I was there. I could hear the voices. Though they came from across the ocean, any of those voices could very well have been my grandfather who fought in that war. You've done them all a great service by making us remember them. You have to wonder sometimes who besides the family does remember. You poem gives them life. Thank you for the read.
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Many thanks!
Wow, thanks Gypsy! I take that as a huge compliment coming from a lady who writes as well as you do!
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