war poem

as i walk the screlching follows me

as i talk with jim

then gas! it chokes 1,2 or 3

as i stumble through the dim

everybody hates this war

but its got to be done

but its just a bore

we gotta do it to please our mums                                                               

the an explosion of red

burts our drums

i wish i was back in bed

i wish we were back, with our mums

BY OSCAR

The cold killer

The crystals crept under the wire.

A silent killer slowly advancing,

In our boots,

On our faces,

Tiny shrapnel shards tearing at tissue and flesh.

An unseeable fight between moisture and cold,

Blackened toes, waiting to fall off.

Blue noses and creeping cold.

This is what every soldier in the trenches fears.

Frostbite really does bite.                                    

 

“Straight up and over, men!”

The general’s call, muffled.

The pitiful soldiers trudged,

Where no man should stand.

They were like fans in a stadium,

Like hairs on a head,

Like seeds in the field

Where no man should stand.

 

A faint whistle, above their ears;

Gas, gas, could it be?

The greatest fear is approaching,

Where no man should stand.

 

The fumbling, a little too late;

The oxygen, a little too corrupted;

The bodies, a little too crowded,

Where no man should land.

Re-crafted version of the trenches byTali

Re-crafted version of the trenches

Revolting beasts scurry along the the muddy ground,

feeding on dead human flesh they become gigantic,

imagine these creatures lurking around.

Having to maintain an upright position for hours in the ice cold water,

the soldiers go through extreme foot pruning rotting their feet they struggle.

Constantly traipsing up and down,

the knee deep squelching mud swallows their boots.

Tired,starving,

at least they got food,

but delicious nutritious is not what they got and when they got food they got food they did not get a lot,

tiny rations of stone hard biscuits and puke worthy canned meat,

and the stone hard biscuits were not very sweet.

Would you like  these disgusting rats crawling around?

Would you like the dreaded trench foot pruning your feet until you can not walk no more?

Would you like not to have very little food and no energy?

Would you like to live in the trenches?

No neither would I.

The Silent Killer.

 

The Silent Killer:

 

Lies; they tell,

Horrible deceitful lies,

For one cannot comprehend,

what we see through our eyes.

Endless days of constant firing

They’ve turned you into a murderer,

The weapons seize every chance,

But worst of all,

The silent killer.

 

Amongst the catastrophe and rubble,

A faint whistling is heard,

Like a graceful song,

Amid the struggle,

“Shhh” whispers,

The silent killer.

 

The soft song ceases,

Followed by a gentle thud,

Spilling out (what seems like) endless smoke,

A wave of yellow,

Slowly, silently making it’s mark,
"Shhh" whispers,
The silent killer.
 

Shouts, yells,

The fumbling chaos,

Masks flying everywhere,

This is what it causes,

“Shhh” whispers,

The silent killer.
 

Flustering, screaming,

A man with no mask,

Burning his skin,

Igniting his insides.

The guns cackling,

Nothing compared to this,

He’s slowly decaying,

Surrounded by the wave of yellow,

This is what is causes,

The lies they told us,

Belonging to,

The silent killer.

 

 

 

Gas

The profusion of gold hovered above the surroundings

As shards of shrapnel, exploded, sputtering out splinters
It’s laugh, cackled, sharp and proud

 

Lifeless limbs stretched out, blood thick like honey

Skin screeched out in despair

Begging for pain to stop, as it gets scorched by contact

 

Lungs wither from the inside, filling up with liquid

Soldiers drown, suffocating, eyes rolled back

Thought that war was an adventure

 

A journey, destiny, all craving for power

The truth was false, all lies

Gas hisses, watching men from afar,

As it guffaws, smirking, seeing them cry

war poem

as i walk the screlching follows me

as i talk with jim

then gas! it chokes 1,2 or 3

as i stumble through the dim

everybody hates this war

but its got to be done

but its just a bore

we gotta do it to please our mums                                                               

the an explosion of red

burts our drums

i wish i was back in bed

i wish we were back, with our mums

BY OSCAR