Category Archives: World War 1

Poetry, World War 1

Remembering Armistice Day: A Reflection on WW1

6 Comments

Today is Armistice Day, the day when peace came to the world after WW1. It was said to be the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. For convenience, I suspect, it seems to have been moved to the nearest Sunday,

As I’m having to spend a lot of time trying to get through checking the edited manuscript of my latest WIP, I’m unashamedly reposting the one I posted for 100years since the end of that dreadful war.

Britishtrenchww1

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War 1 began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

02grandad

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.
They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

015gtunclewilly1

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

My Grandma always referred to her brother as ‘Our Poor Willy’. No one knows why she called him that, though.

Please leave a comment. I love to hear from you and of your thoughts.

This poem, and others, can be found in Miscellaneous Thoughts. You can buy it by clicking on the cover in the sidebar where you will be taken to the online store of your choice.

The book is available in a number of formats.

Poetry, World War 1

WAR. A Poem.

3 Comments

It is a year since Russia invaded Ukraine. Can’t understand it. Here’s a poem. !

WAR

Why must humans go to war?

What do they hope to gain?

I think that most of us deplore

That it started again.

Why do the leaders think it’s right

For many folk to die?

And make people resort to flight

And bid their homes goodby?

Two world wars in years long past

Brought much pain and grief.

The numbers dead were so vast

It is beyond belief

That it could all begin again

With Russia entering Ukraine

history, Poetry, World War 1

We Will Remember Them

Leave a comment

I posted this poem once before, but have decided to post it again as on Sunday it’s 100 years since the Armistice . I hope you enjoy it.

Britishtrenchww1

 

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim 02grandad
And Our Poor Willie, too.
They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

015gtunclewilly1Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

Poetry, World War 1

A poem to commemorate WW1

Leave a comment

I make no apologies for re-posting this poem. I wrote it 2 years ago to commemorate the anniversary of the start of  World War One. As July 1st is the 100th anniversary of the terrible battle of the Somme, I thought I’d post it rather than the next episode of The Wolf Pack. That I’ll post next week instead.

My Great Uncle Jim, whom I mention in the poem. came back too, but he died shortly afterwards from the results of gassing. The lady known as Auntie Polly, who was his fiancee at the time, never married, but the family always treated her as though they had been.

‘Our Poor Willie’ was also my great uncle. He was my maternal grandmother’s brother. She always referred to him as ‘our poor Willie,’ but no one ever knew why.

amapolas-28961290013507Xx9

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

015gtunclewilly102grandad

 

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.

They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

Britishtrenchww1

I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

V.M.Sang

July 2014

I make no apologies for this poem not being in the modern idiom of no rhymes and little rhythm. I’m old-fashioned enough to think that poems ought to differ from prose, and many modern ones I’ve read are little different. That doesn’t necessarily mean rhyming though. I’ve written blank verse myself on occasion.

I also think that they ought to be comprehensible!

Please leave a comment in the comments section.