Remember This

World War 1

Now the 11th day of November is here

It doesn’t bring very much cheer

The weather is dank and bitterly cold

In mourning for brave men of old.

 

The war started one day in late July

When Princip decided an Archduke would die

And made two common nations, united by blood

Grind themselves down in the mire and the mud.

 

Lots of men rushed to sign on

Poor innocents: didn’t know what would come

They would suffer pain and know such fear

In a dark, stinking hole most of them died

Nobody ever stopped to ask: why?

 

They must have been afraid

I wonder, did they pray?

Or did they just feel betrayed

By God and their country on certain days.

 

The list of names on the Menin Gate

A body with no grave: a terrible fate

A whole generation, just swept away

No one will know how many died in a day

At Ypres, the Somme and Passchendale.

 

Many loved ones were left weeping

Mothers, fathers, sisters and wives

Had lost precious lives

Memories were all they were keeping

Now that their loved ones lie silently sleeping.

 

However, one fact I seem to recall

The seeds of the Second, lie in the Great War

Old men watched their children die, like before,

So nothing was changed, nothing at all.

 

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your poem is well-constructed using an interesting mix of rhyme & a somewhat lilting rhythm that belies the seriousness of the subject matter. I find it mind-boggling to think back on how wars were fought, described in vivid detail in your poem. Nowadays, we are on to another world war (which goes on & on, in my opinion) but since there are no well-defined “sides” or generals or battles, we stop counting the deaths & mutilations. I can’t decide which is worse . . . the wars that killed millions or the ones that kill “only” thousands, but leave ten times that many maimed in spirit & body. I really hate this topic. I’m sorry if I can’t make a coherent comment (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Bobbie Coelho]

Please don't worry, I'm not that good a poet!

[emmajoy]

Oh Bobby, those final lines.. how true, how very true!

You've so clearly and finely told the true story of what happened in that war that should have, SHOULD have taught so called civilisations about the evil of war, the deaths of so many not merely in a week but in a day. And there you are, love, telling how history repeats itself with just a shrug of the shoulders, figures noted.. and.. little or no intention of stopping there.

And, dear Lord, it hasn't!

A very fine and heartfelt piece of writing, Bobby. .