Poetry

The Battle of the Somme

By 26th June 2009December 9th, 2019No Comments

The sky is black, it’s the 1st of july
The thunder of guns is about to die
The whine of shells will stop for a time
To allow the silence to reach it’s subline

The men in the trenches are ready to go
Awaiting an order from an n.c.o
Loaded with kit, rifles to shoulders
Bayonets attached, long lines of soldiers

The whistle is blown; it’s now 7:30
No time to think, no cry for mercy
The ladder is climbed, over the top
One by one sheep in a flock

Comrades in arms, casualties of war
To die in combat, it’s against the law
Big german guns, the shell range found
Silence broke, men fall to ground

The western front battlefield aglow
March onto death the regiment flow
Craters of mud, the landscape gone
Hoards of dead bodies blown into one

Machine guns rattle spraying out fire
No place to hide, no escape from the wire
A sergeant shouts “forward” walk do your duty
No going back, that would be mutiny

The first wave cut down, man’s self sacrifice
To please some officer who wouldn’t look twice
Confusion of battle, crumble and fall
Groans from the wounded, the dead can’t call

No man’s land is full once more
Rotting corpses adorn the floor
Objective failed, must try again
Another day, we need less rain

Returned stunned, suffering in pain
Exhausted and trembling, still don’t complain
Back in the trench tradgedy done
The battle over, the war is not won

Gallantry shown, some get a medal
The victoria cross for only the special
The commanders can rest, but not the tommies
Someone must rescue all the dead bodies

The day has ended, all prayers have been met
To dead soldiers everywhere, lest we forget

Roy Barwise

Author Roy Barwise

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