OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE, THEY MERELY FADE AWAY (They die only when found)

For many days I've likened to death,
shot in the arm, the leg and the chest;
and laying on mud therein a ditch,
I've prayed for an end - to toss in my pitch;
but no-one's heard me - no-one's seen;
as I fight for death - to forget what's been.
I fight for death but she's taking her rest;
so I merely exist in my time of pain;
and I'll never die, I'll just exist,
I'll never move and I'll never stir,
for as long as mankind - I'll always be there.

Some soldiers were brought back

W

J nnbb

AR Warfare FIGHTING Armed Conflict WW1 Trench LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR

This original poem was inspired by the film "Oh! What A Lovely War".

The war wasted men,
the trench souls
and minds
puppeteer'd from above
by moustachioed children.

Rapacious rats
crawled over dead
zombies of patriotism
and thoughtless death,
as they enriched the soil with blood.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

For the good of peace
death was refereed by God
who was on both sides,
helping poppies to grow;
orange spotted with black.

One for each man:
dried blood stains
on the face of a gas attack,
picked in bunches
and held in a virginal hand.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

Start reading about the film and stage play here ...

The original version of this poem was written by myself in the 80's, but my ageing hubris (in 2025) makes me think this version is more concise. Please forgive me if you disagree.

Version 2

The war wasted men,

the trench souls and minds

herded from above

by moustachioed children.

Rapacious rats

ate dead zombies of patriotism

and thoughtless death,

who enriched soil with their blood.

Yet the glory of death is remembered

and the warmth of sacrifice cherished.

For the good of no-one

death was ignored by God,

who merely helped poppies to grow,

orange, spotted with black.

For each man a Poppy,

reminders of dried blood

on the face of a gas attack,

picked in bunches to die again.

Yet the glory of death is remembered

and the warmth of sacrifice cherished.

WAR Warfare FIGHTING Armed Conflict WW1
Trench LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

11/11/11 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, lest we forget?

The war wasted men,
the trench souls
and minds
puppeteered from above
by moustachioed children.

Rapacious rats
crawled over dead
zombies of patriotism
and thoughtless death,
as they enriched the soil with blood.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

For the good of peace
death was refereed by God
who was on both sides,
helping poppies to grow;
orange spotted with black.

One for each man:
dried blood stains
on the face of a gas attack,
picked in bunches
to be held in a virginal hand.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

 Version 2

The war wasted men,

the trench souls and minds

herded from above

by moustachioed children.

Rapacious rats

ate dead zombies of patriotism

and thoughtless death,

who enriched soil with their blood.

Yet the glory of death is remembered

and the warmth of sacrifice cherished.

For the good of no-one

death was ignored by God,

who merely helped poppies to grow,

orange, spotted with black.

For each man a Poppy,

reminders of dried blood

on the face of a gas attack,

picked in bunches to die again.

Yet the glory of death is remembered

and the warmth of sacrifice cherished.

La poem en Francais? :........

La guerre a gâché les hommes,
les â mes de tranchée
et les esprits
marionnettiste d'en haut
par des enfants moustachus.

Rats rapaces
rampé sur morts
zombies du patriotisme
et la mort sans réfléchir,
comme ils ont enrichi le sol avec du sang.

Et on se souvient de la gloire de la mort.
La chaleur du sacrifice chérie.

Pour le bien de la paix
la mort a été arbitrée par Dieu
qui était des deux côtés,
aider les coquelicots à se développer;
orange tacheté de noir.

Un pour chaque homme:
taches de sang séchées
face à une attaque au gaz,
cueilliens en grappes
et tenu dans une main virginale.

Et on se souvient de la gloire de la mort.
La chaleur du sacrifice chérie.

Lest We Forget

http://laurenceaux.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/oh-what-lovely-war.html