This story-poem , the spellings , will be of a Tommy , of Lilian Road , state school. Not known to be a school of high educastan!
We'd crallde out our 'oles , '' up and at 'em ''
As orderde , lads fell , machen guns cut most 'em down
Some fall back in to our trench , dirt kicked up by the bullets
RATELL , RATELL , sounds the machen guns
In bunches , most , fell wiff out a word said , grunts mostly
aLL AROUD ME , IN FRONT EATHER SIDE OF ME ,
Rifles pick off , others , '' ping , ping , ping '' , ME CHUMS DROP , SOME WITH A SOUND , some call out to there old mums , som to sweet harts , wife's
How dont know , I woz , liveing a charmde life!
Bullets , rifle and machen gun , bullets , hit the mud all around me
None hit me! Later , when those of us , who lived , found we'd been hit
I remeber , st least one bloke , dropd down dead , not hit , just died , dropde down DEAD , made no sound , just DIED , before our eyes!
I took of me coat , it was full of holes , shreded , more holes than coate
All around me , me chums had fallean , some dead , others wounded
Saw arms shot off , fingers , hands , dropping the mud
Mud changimg couler , red , mixst with the brown mud , black , red
One lad passde me , he jupde over a shell crater
Just then , a Jeryy , machen gun opend up
Cuting his feet off at the anclels , he keepde on runing on the stomps of his leg's
One lad , was sat on the lip of another crater , less a leg
His life blood poring away
Sat , crouchde , back asgaist the trench wall , mind , racesig , confust ,
Could not swech off , what we had gone through , to me , it ewas still going on
I repade , that charge , on in my mind , in the botom of the trench , those shot
Down lay , some dead , some dieing , one or two , untochde , lay quivering , crying
Like kids , little chilldren , babys , weeping
Those who had suvivde , sade nothing about them , or to them , whats was the Point , anyway!
Me mind , confust , I am , thinking , was thinking , of that mad morning
Past and preant all one , in me mind , then and now , all the same time in me mind
Way back then , them , little shits back home in Ramsgate , told of glory!
Of advenchres we'd 'ave , all a load of bollocks!
Them , me chums , laying out there , not laying out in glory's sleep
Or lay dieing , awaiting glory in hevanly sleep , na , they lay , wiff flyes laying eggs
Maggots will breed , eting the now dead bodys
Rats will tuck in , to the corpes ,
Nothing I could do fore the poor bleeder , we had been ordered not to
He know that , I througe 'im a fag , he court , said nofing , lit it , I left 'im to it
Shel's , bullets , dropde all around me , not yet hit by any - yet
Came across , a Frizzy , he was sat , back aganist a stub of a tree
He smiled , hands up , suredering , I smiled back , I fired me , rifle , blew the top
off 'is head , he was still smiling , smiling the smile of a dead man!
Things were heating up , I look around , only me , semde to be still alive
Bullets and what not , geting coloser and closer ter mes!
I jumpde in to a shell 'ole , it was full of shit , I felt safe ,
Then as was looking feeling safe , I heard a plop shell landed in front of me eyes
And then ------
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 655 times
Written on 2014-08-09 at 15:58
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....AND THEN.....
Early one morning PasschendaeleWe'd crallde out our 'oles , '' up and at 'em ''
As orderde , lads fell , machen guns cut most 'em down
Some fall back in to our trench , dirt kicked up by the bullets
RATELL , RATELL , sounds the machen guns
In bunches , most , fell wiff out a word said , grunts mostly
aLL AROUD ME , IN FRONT EATHER SIDE OF ME ,
Rifles pick off , others , '' ping , ping , ping '' , ME CHUMS DROP , SOME WITH A SOUND , some call out to there old mums , som to sweet harts , wife's
How dont know , I woz , liveing a charmde life!
Bullets , rifle and machen gun , bullets , hit the mud all around me
None hit me! Later , when those of us , who lived , found we'd been hit
I remeber , st least one bloke , dropd down dead , not hit , just died , dropde down DEAD , made no sound , just DIED , before our eyes!
I took of me coat , it was full of holes , shreded , more holes than coate
All around me , me chums had fallean , some dead , others wounded
Saw arms shot off , fingers , hands , dropping the mud
Mud changimg couler , red , mixst with the brown mud , black , red
One lad passde me , he jupde over a shell crater
Just then , a Jeryy , machen gun opend up
Cuting his feet off at the anclels , he keepde on runing on the stomps of his leg's
One lad , was sat on the lip of another crater , less a leg
His life blood poring away
Sat , crouchde , back asgaist the trench wall , mind , racesig , confust ,
Could not swech off , what we had gone through , to me , it ewas still going on
I repade , that charge , on in my mind , in the botom of the trench , those shot
Down lay , some dead , some dieing , one or two , untochde , lay quivering , crying
Like kids , little chilldren , babys , weeping
Those who had suvivde , sade nothing about them , or to them , whats was the Point , anyway!
Me mind , confust , I am , thinking , was thinking , of that mad morning
Past and preant all one , in me mind , then and now , all the same time in me mind
Way back then , them , little shits back home in Ramsgate , told of glory!
Of advenchres we'd 'ave , all a load of bollocks!
Them , me chums , laying out there , not laying out in glory's sleep
Or lay dieing , awaiting glory in hevanly sleep , na , they lay , wiff flyes laying eggs
Maggots will breed , eting the now dead bodys
Rats will tuck in , to the corpes ,
Nothing I could do fore the poor bleeder , we had been ordered not to
He know that , I througe 'im a fag , he court , said nofing , lit it , I left 'im to it
Shel's , bullets , dropde all around me , not yet hit by any - yet
Came across , a Frizzy , he was sat , back aganist a stub of a tree
He smiled , hands up , suredering , I smiled back , I fired me , rifle , blew the top
off 'is head , he was still smiling , smiling the smile of a dead man!
Things were heating up , I look around , only me , semde to be still alive
Bullets and what not , geting coloser and closer ter mes!
I jumpde in to a shell 'ole , it was full of shit , I felt safe ,
Then as was looking feeling safe , I heard a plop shell landed in front of me eyes
And then ------
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 655 times
Written on 2014-08-09 at 15:58
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