WW1 Poem

Rotting flesh, and poisoned blood,

Bullet marked bodies

Sparks flying up

Cold barrel clutched against my

chest,

As cold and metalic as the

Blood I taste.

Putrid odour of stone cold

Bodies

The chill, frigid night,

Enveloping them entirley,

Men’s boots, heavy and sodden,

Laying down their lives,

Will never be

Forgotten

Their bodies are but a constellation of

Scars

Of nightmares

Of trenches

Of days afar

It is an honor to die on the field

Or so they say.

But while they live their lives,

Ours will decay

Cold air grasps us

Choking us down,

Tightening, choking

Until only a limp body is found

On we trudge

Through no man’s land

Gore and red liquid staining our

Hands

Still I see those faces

In the raven of sleep

I see my comrades,

When I knelt by their side,

With blood covering their clothes

Crusted and dried

I glimpse their last words

Through lifeless eyes

Petrichor smelling ground

Reverberating under my

Feet

Feet uncertain weather

They’ll carry me to victory.

Bodies marked,

Colorless as the sky lumining

Over me,

Thunder rumbles

And bullets fly free

I look into his eyes,

The colour of the blade

Men shouting,

Their voices horse

“get up and fight you coward!”

As I kneel by the still

Corpse.

Summary:

This Poem is inspired by world war 1 poetry, describing a soldier’s viewpoint in a battle scene, and the way the war effects him to this very day. It is more of a descriptive poem, using various techniques like personification and metaphors. 

I have always loved the experience of putting yourself in someone else’s shoes and describing something from their perspective; especially in the form of a poem. I have a deep respect for those who fought in the war, and I feel their first hand experience in the field is nothing compared to this poem. but it was a wonderful opportunity just the same.