WORLD WAR POEM, #3

Poem for Today - August 20, 2014

THE  BATTLE OF THE SOMME (1916)

They lie, such twisted flesh, so many numbered dead
in mud long bitter day, stained this earth blood red.
For King young lives were laid. for god and glory bound
hope that bloomed, called victory, broken on the ground.

Sky, long filled with flame, shell and killing bomb
so began this hell, The Battle of the Somme.
Seven days of thunder, deep German trenches shelled
to wrest this muddy waste, the enemy strong held.

Battle cry ' Advance ' from throats a bloodied roar
curse this bitter day, curse this bitter war.
Twenty miles or more, so young, they marched to hell
towards the trench bound foe, beneath the killing shell.

Bullet screams of anger, torrent death of steel
ripped the waiting flesh, with biting thoughtless zeal.
They fell, they fell so many, still they marched and more
heaped they lay unmoving, this graveyard battle floor.

Torn amidst the twisted wire, grotesque their dying fall
till left the fields of carrion, where only wounded crawl.
Battles end now came, a million more they lay
blood that soaks this earth. God I curse this day.

© Black Narcissus

-        Barry Hopkins