Early morning rain
Tears not to fall
Memories of home
Dreams to call
Mud and body odour
Unshaven and alone
Distant gunfire crackles
The dead to atone.
You do not feel
The snapping cold
The blistered lips
The gnawing bone
The heartbeats rapid
The distant stare
Of battle weary men
Their soul to bare.
Soon the smoke
It will rise
But it doesnt stop bullets
Or disguise
Machine guns fixed
That fire ahead
Reeling in like fish
More of the dead.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: March 31st, 2026 01:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments3
Good write N.
Is it a battle to catch that bus? Are you getting the No.14 bus today?! lol.
MORE THAN A BATTLE, FULL SCALE WAR TO GET THAT BUS LOL THANKS FOR READING
lol.
The horrors of war portrayed in this poem of battle. And so it is with any war physical or otherwise it takes casualties. ,Nicely written in good rhyme it pulls the reader along from line to line in an advance from from trench to trench. Well penned
much appreciated, thanks for read
You are most welcome
The home front is also affected by those that return broken and the absence of those that will never come home. Most moved, Norman🕊️🙏🏻
most kind comments, thanks and appreciation as always
Most welcome, Norman🙏🏻🕊️
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