War Poem
So exhausted, men shivering, trudging along through the muddy ground.
Death in their eyes at the sound of machine gun fire.
Walking away from the field of death, thankful but resentful, to leave the blood bath behind.
So tired men can hardly walk in agony and distress.
Some with one boot some with none.
Bruises and cuts showing up on there grubby feet.
I fall to the ground.
White faced comrades walk past me not even not even noticing me clutching my leg on the ground.
“Poison gas get away, gas masks on quick boys.”
Struggling, men searching blindly, getting masks on just in time.
But one man left out, still fumbling for his gas mask.
Too late he drops to the ground grabbing his lungs.
Drowning under a pea green swamp.
He manages to get up, he runs towards me in agony, still grabbing his chest.
I am helpless.
How would you feel to carry a man dying in agony to hear the water gurgle in his mouth?
How would feel, helpless, all you could do is wait for the suffering man to die?
How would you like this memory to be with you for ever?
In yours dreams for the rest of your life this very picture will come up.
People say it is glorious to die in honour for your country.
But they lie.
Message Posted By: By Matthew Cork
Date Posted: 12-12-2005
