Boy Soldier Poem by Gary Fellows

Boy Soldier

Rating: 5.0


A harsh breeze blows on their soft faces
No trees left for wind to whistle through
But Captains blow redresses the deficit
Orders to push from safely behind

Down the wire the signals come
And on a wire their lives now balance
For to reach those barbs they will fail today
Decisions insane despite three weeks of rain

Another battle of Passchendaele sets sail
A third attempt on the Ypres line
Despite the obvious deadly pool and quagmire
Forced to run, slip and slide mowed down or drowned

Over the top, just one more push they said
They've heard it all before we know
Not least for Private Peter Tighe of the great
Lancashire Fusiliers, Battalion two eight

Soldier, you've done it all before
The Somme, Arras and Vimy Ridge
You saw those appalling sights
Alive in body not mind all but to die this day

And now you don't stand a chance
A sitting duck for the guns of the Hun
Stuck in the mud is no longer a game
Machines of death, the bullets do rain

Even the enemy can see the folly
Shaking fingers pulling shameful triggers
Their tear-soaked eyes see their bloody work
A pitiful slaughter is what they cry

Our boys on the front will save the day
Cannon fodder it's often said of they
Soon there'll be a last drawn breath
A telegram received of regrets of death

And later, the gathering of parts inhumane
From an abstract mosaic of faces, abstract and gory
Marked and matched those parts in vain
To be thrown beneath a tablet marked ‘Glory'

Sunday, November 9, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: army,battle,cemetery,death,england,europe,german,glory,guns,hope
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Inspired by research into my grandfather's brother, who fell on 9th October 1917. Even more poignant as we approach the centenary of the wars end.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ivor Hogg 13 December 2008

Lions led by donkeys sacrificed to hide bound minds of high command on both sides. The war to end all wars? the world has seen little peace since then

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Tsira Goge 22 November 2008

Interesting and good poems... .............................................. Cannon fodder it’s often said of they Our boys on the front will save the day Soon there’ll be a last drawn breath A telegram of ironic regrets of death .................................................. This of stanzas strongly and painfully touches to heart///10.... Tsira

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