The Ghosts of No-Man's Land

This is another of my War poems, the rhyming is a little cheesy but hey ho...

The brown, thick mud squelches under my feet,

As a dark, dingy defeat our gallant soldiers will meet.

All around me I can taste the bitter fear,

As, through my ears, distance bugle calls I hear.

They’ve wandered in from all walks of life,

With Brothers, sisters, children and a wife.

Now they are fighting with their minds shattered like stone,

Keeping guard in the rain solitary, alone.

As the ghosts of no-mans land pass.

 

Bayonets double as crosses for the lost,

To the ‘pigs’, no great (military) cost.

The mines explode as often as blinks,

Salt and Pepper sweeten our drinks.

Scattering the trench broken dreams I can touch,

In my head: a hospital bed, wheelchair and crutch.

Our ridden bodies are tired and shaken,

Our last skeletal gasps of life will soon be taken.

As the ghosts of no-mans land pass.

 

 

The snow and frost bite at our toes,

The skies blacken like the coats of crows.

Our bruised helmets tell of chaotic ordeals,

Every man around can smell the terror, it feels.

The last post, our triumphant last stand,

Will any loved one hold my hand?

As I am trapped in my barbed wire prison,

These truthful words from my page are risen.

As the ghosts of no-mans land pass.

 

The End

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