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The beach is black and insincere
A crown of crosses and mounting fear
Machine guns pumping atop the hill
Bullets wheeling, penetrating, kill
Out of the boat and to the shore
I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp
Panicking because my rifle is damp
I throw it down to the wet sand
And prise another from a comrade’s hand
I stumble onward amidst a storm of shells
Charging the enemy like the hounds of hell
I burst forwards, bullets spraying, manically screaming
A slow-motion battle scene, but I’m not dreaming
Enemy fire pauses and the beach is quiet
Then grenades rain down like a metal-shelled riot
Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots
The end, I fear, is something I’ve already seen
I’m bleeding, I’m dying, God save the Queen.
A crown of crosses and mounting fear
Machine guns pumping atop the hill
Bullets wheeling, penetrating, kill
Out of the boat and to the shore
I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp
Panicking because my rifle is damp
I throw it down to the wet sand
And prise another from a comrade’s hand
I stumble onward amidst a storm of shells
Charging the enemy like the hounds of hell
I burst forwards, bullets spraying, manically screaming
A slow-motion battle scene, but I’m not dreaming
Enemy fire pauses and the beach is quiet
Then grenades rain down like a metal-shelled riot
Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots
The end, I fear, is something I’ve already seen
I’m bleeding, I’m dying, God save the Queen.
I was born on 22nd January... Go me.
I was born on June 6..
Anyhoo, thought it was quite good, and I prefer it to many war poems I have read in books. Like FFF said, a lot of lines were really good and a few were weak, but on the whole I liked it, "le guerre" is a good subject in poems methinks. Thumbs up.
Anyhoo, thought it was quite good, and I prefer it to many war poems I have read in books. Like FFF said, a lot of lines were really good and a few were weak, but on the whole I liked it, "le guerre" is a good subject in poems methinks. Thumbs up.
I am trying to shift a little from my usual "A,B,A,B" rhyming sceme, but it doesn't seem to be going down too great.
If its not broken don't fix it, eh.
If its not broken don't fix it, eh.
Ah, now that's more like it.
"Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots"
Nice.
However:
"I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp"
A bit weak.
Keep it coming.
"Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots"
Nice.
However:
"I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp"
A bit weak.
Keep it coming.
That about Gallipoli or Normandy? Or neither? Aha.
I just go down this going "AA" "BB" etc...
I thought it was okay but I couldn't shake the idea it was about D-Day, and that it was in places a bit factless. I think it would be better if you used stanzas to divide your work up more, and possibly try a more complex rhyming scheme.
I thought it was okay but I couldn't shake the idea it was about D-Day, and that it was in places a bit factless. I think it would be better if you used stanzas to divide your work up more, and possibly try a more complex rhyming scheme.
The beach is black and insincere
A crown of crosses and mounting fear
Machine guns pumping atop the hill
Bullets wheeling, penetrating, kill
Out of the boat and to the shore
I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp
Panicking because my rifle is damp
I throw it down to the wet sand
And prise another from a comrade’s hand
I stumble onward amidst a storm of shells
Charging the enemy like the hounds of hell
I burst forwards, bullets spraying, manically screaming
A slow-motion battle scene, but I’m not dreaming
Enemy fire pauses and the beach is quiet
Then grenades rain down like a metal-shelled riot
Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots
The end, I fear, is something I’ve already seen
I’m bleeding, I’m dying, God save the Queen.
A crown of crosses and mounting fear
Machine guns pumping atop the hill
Bullets wheeling, penetrating, kill
Out of the boat and to the shore
I can’t feel my hands any more
I huddle to the ground like a tramp
Panicking because my rifle is damp
I throw it down to the wet sand
And prise another from a comrade’s hand
I stumble onward amidst a storm of shells
Charging the enemy like the hounds of hell
I burst forwards, bullets spraying, manically screaming
A slow-motion battle scene, but I’m not dreaming
Enemy fire pauses and the beach is quiet
Then grenades rain down like a metal-shelled riot
Chunks of skin fall in clustered knots
Blood sloshed and sprayed in crimson spots
The end, I fear, is something I’ve already seen
I’m bleeding, I’m dying, God save the Queen.