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The Tale Of the Battlefield.

Poetry By: Howlingwolf214
War and military



I enjoy writing war poetry more than all else, this is one of my favourites. It follows the life of a soldier in the Battle of the Somme.


Submitted:Nov 27, 2008    Reads: 155    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


The sound of bombs shattering,
Endless gunfire slicing throught the night,
Sick and wounded screaming,
clumsy hands fumbling with masks,
The tale of the battlefield.
Endless footsteps stamping,
Heavy boots tramping,
Stumbling through the mud,
One hand on my helmet,
The tale of the battlefield.
Every other man we come to,
A friend of ours,
Dead, his eyes ever staring,
His hand open, a dead man wanting his weapon,
The tale of the battlefield.
We stare out over no-mans land,
A barren land, no hope, no joy,
I wonder to myself,
Do they have it the same over there?
The tale of the battlefield.
The artillery firing,
All through the night,
Destroy their firepower they said,
Its almost time to go over,
The tale of the battlefield.
I wonder to myself polishing my gun,
Will we be remembered?
Us brave guys,
Fighting in the Somme like this.
The tale of the battlefield.
5 minutes until we go over,
Im not frightened,
We can't lose this,
Why are my legs shaking?
The tale of the battlefield.
This can't be right,
Surely these bullets,
Are not real, figments, spectres,
Soldiers falling, a sea of red,
The tale of the battlefield.
There's blood on my chest,
I cant be mine, I don't feel the pain,
But why wont my legs work,
Why the sudden dark?
The tale of the battlefield.
It can't end here,
We have to keep moving,
I have to see my wife again,
I can't stop now,
The tale of the battlefield.
Lying on my side,
I see the dawn light shining,
Its really quite beatiful
The sun shining on the wasteland,
filled with red, my eyes close, blackness encloses,

My tale ends here.





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