#ww1

9 posts
  • ericwinnert 20w

    I used to live in a street in the sky
    On the ground: Hague Row.
    It always made me think
    Of the master of trenches
    Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig.

    But sadly their names were spelt differently
    A war zone by any other would be just as bad.

    A thousand in the sky
    A thousand in a trench,
    All herded, as some would like to say,
    As cattle to certain doom.

    Yet both Hauges offered
    A victorious utopia
    At the end of it.
    All you had to do was
    March down the Row
    Or saunter along a trench.

    ©ericwinnert

  • victoriastokoe 63w

    Closer

    Drink love in waves.
    Chase our passions
    before they get away.
    Smell the essence
    of the last night,
    the last day.
    We forget these
    moments..
    We forget
    they leave us..
    The pages curl,
    grow dim, turn grey.
    Close in my arms
    you stay.
    Drink love in waves.
    Chase your dreams,
    before the light
    inside you fades.
    Lest we forget,
    they left us.
    Your photo curls
    grows dim, turns grey.
    Closer in my heart
    you'll stay.

  • rodney 76w

    Historical events.

    Sinners are on the pedestal.
    Commoners shot at the wishes of the admiral.

    Cities in ruins.
    Water ways and fancy fountains
    with tossed coins.

    Creator's creativity killing each other for world domination.
    One has to be split into two after one has achieved mass extinction.

    World Wars and national commerce.
    Admirals, generals and art's verse.

    World annihilation, mass extinction;
    The act of revenge and retaliation.
    Say what you want to say, ‘shallom’, ‘heil Hitler’.

    Send spies, kill lies.
    Encroach more, send whores.

    Learn tongues, kiss earth.
    The scarred palms can't carve out a path.

    Peace ain't in the way you kill a man.
    Peace is in the way you know yourself.

    The sculptor's hands never exemplifies its worth.

    We know not history, we've only heard of her wretched beauty.

    Nobody's a saint here, with a plot of land that he owns.

    Maps may come, maps may go.

    Skies may soar and buildings may fall.

    After all, humans are living to breed and grow.

    With little to no empathy.
    Don't ask a soldier to look at grace.
    For they are trained to follow the instructions for days.

    The truth is not in the shrine.
    The truth was not in the reminiscence of saints.

    But it is, within ourselves.

    To look around, to fight and debate over a piece of earth is a waste.

    For God never told us to kill ourselves.
    But to put faith in Him and leave the rest.

    For Alexander was not The Great because of his conquest.
    For Paul is not remembered because of his early days.
    For our place is not here but elsewhere.

    So to have a voice,
    to think of having a choice—

    Is to waste time hunting for swift flies.

    ©rodney

  • james_taumas 102w

    Messenger

    Priority message
    Thousands to save
    Price in blood
    Behind enemy lines
    Keep moving
    Keep running
    Hunted and stalked
    Through civilization ruins
    Daytime and night
    Must get through
    Keep a promise.

    ©james_taumas

  • israelmgonzalez 107w

    Beyond the Pale

    1914
    The bells ring and ring
    The songbirds don't sing
    The world's at war
    It's gone to hell
    The lion, the bear and the eagle roar
    Hence the church bells toll and toll
    Look! A race to the sea can't you see
    'Murica sees but leaves 'em be
    Out east, the Ruskie bear advances west
    But lo, at Tannenberg is second best

    T'is all futile my boys, t'is all futile
    But t'is o'er the top my boys, o'er the top
    And as the bullets whiz on by you'll ask yourself why
    But let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale

    1915
    The clouds turn a sickly yellow
    Sure ain't no mellow yellow
    'Em boys be turnin' pale
    Feelin' fire in their lungs
    Shortly after they kick the pail
    Ypres is a meat grinder
    Gallipoli too is a meat grinder
    The Syrian desert is an orgy of death
    A million plus 'll no longer draw a breath

    T'is all futile my boys, t'is all futile
    But t'is o'er the top my boys, o'er the top
    And as the bullets whiz on by you'll ask yourself why
    But let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale

    1916
    There's a bloodbath at Verdun
    Mother Earth, she's come undone
    First of July means fire on the Somme
    Sky's pierced by the chilling screams of mom
    Proud ships are burnt and sunk at Jutland
    And in the end, victory belong to England
    Can man really be so cruel?
    Going forward is this the rule?
    What will is there to live?
    When death is all man has to give?

    T'is all futile my boys, t'is all futile
    But t'is o'er the top my boys, o'er the top
    And as the bullets whiz on by you'll ask yourself why
    But let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale

    1917
    The Russian bear's gettin' hangry
    Fightin' men are gettin' angry
    An ominous figure emerges from the Finland station
    Revolution's 'bout to grip the nation
    In the Holy City flies the Union Jack
    At Vimy, Currie plans a successful attack
    The maple leaf flies and a nation is born
    Into a world all torn
    Into the fray comes Uncle Sam
    Wilson after the telegram gives a damn
    The muds of Paschendaele claim many a man
    A battle more furious than the revenge of Queen Anne
    France's finest are in mutiny
    Puttin' their officers under lots of scrutiny

    T'is all futile my boys, t'is all futile
    But t'is o'er the top my boys, o'er the top
    And as the bullets whiz on by you'll ask yourself why
    But let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale

    1918
    Hunger grips Vienna's regal streets
    Around Europe not too many eats
    'To hell with Karl and Czeta' the Viennese shout
    As in Europe the old order makes its way out
    The baron falls from the sky like lightning from heaven
    Of his lives he finally expended all seven
    At Amiens, Ludendorff has his blackest day
    But a hundred days pass before there can be laughing and gay
    In a lonely baggage train the madness ends
    Eleven, eleven, eleven, and the hostility ends

    T'is all futile my boys, t'is all futile
    But t'is o'er the top my boys, o'er the top
    And as the bullets whiz on by you'll ask yourself why
    But let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale

    1919
    The war is over yes it is
    Go home and hug your family
    If the Spanish Lady hasn't already
    Live with your wounds soldier
    Both seen and unseen
    Dare to live a normal life if you can
    And let not your courage fail
    That would be beyond the pale
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • israelmgonzalez 107w

    The Ire of the Irish

    The ire of the Irish burned brightly
    For many a year treated wrongly
    The heat became hot on Easter Sunday
    The whole damn thing ground to a halt that day
    Sunday ain't no fun day in Dublin town
    1916: the world seems irredeemably torn down

    Big plans being made over a glass of whiskey
    Or two or three
    Guns be firing on you: one, two, three
    Blood paints the streets a red quite dusky
    But neither side of the Irish Sea can find the key
    So it's a bullet or two or three for you and me

    Celtic fire burns fiery green
    For the English were quite a bit mean
    Cannons and small guns flashed
    Shells into people crashed
    These were the republic's birth pains
    Killing and dying under cold April rains

    The ire of the Irish boiled over
    Connolly and Pearse said 'rebel, rebel, come on over!'
    'Take you gun and fight them off!'
    But British fury eventually bumped them off
    Yet nothing could being the people back on side
    The ire of the Irish would not subside
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • loftydreams101 167w

    The Armistice

    November, was deranged and red hot 
    When the bells rang out 
    With salvation’s tune 

    Across deathly plains, 
    Defiled by the years 
    In their barbed asylum,  
    Few survivors strode home   

    To a bittersweet song  
    A colossus of a lie: 
    “All wars have finally 
    Met their demise”

    © William Wright, Jr. 2018

  • anshalschutzstaffel 204w

    Over us

    Bombed last night and bomed night before gonna be bombed tonight if we never get bombed anymore
    when we r bombed we r scared as we can be god stop the bombing from the higher Germany they are over us they are over us one shell whole for all three of of us. thank you lucky stars there are just three of us so one of us can bear it all alone
    Gassed last night and gassed the night before gonna be gassed tonight if we never get gassed anymore when we are gassed we r sick as we can be becoz phosphine and mustard gas is much too much for me they are waring us they are warning us one respirator for all of us thank you lucky stars three of us can pee so one of us can use it all alone

  • eurynome 221w

    Das Eisenherz

    Das stumpfe Tick Tack der Uhren.
    Das Brummen und Summen der Fabriken.
    Die Welt steht still,
    Doch die Uhr muss weiter ticken

    Und in den Mauer und Maschinen
    Hört man ein Eisenherz schlagen
    Es war gedacht, um zu dienen
    Nicht die Herren zu versklaven.

    Von Rauch umhüllt pocht es laut
    gereinigt von kleinen Kinderhänden
    Das Eisenherz der Maschinenbraut
    Schafft es nun auch mich zu lenken

    Das Eisenherz lässt Uhren schlagen.
    Und die Fließbänder anspringen
    An denen dann die Menschen klagen,
    Bis sie dann zum Eisenherz erklingen.