Christmas 1916 Poem by Bob Oldfield
Christmas 1916
In the bleak midwinter frosty wind made moan
As did those who were injured and dying
Slumped unceremoniously in mud-filled trenches
Craving for the warmth of a home-fire burning
But there was none
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone
And fingers, numb of feeling like brittle twigs
Twisted at the end of slowly rotting branches.
Delicate precision lost
Unable to caress or soothe
Now locked and cramped around a trigger
Snow had fallen, snow on snow
A masquerade of beauty.
A whitewashed sepulchre encapsulating bodies
In burial robes which once marched proudly
On summers' days
That it should come to this;
Trees in full prime stripped of life
Youthful buds trodden underfoot
And lost forever in the bleak midwinter
Long ago
The truth you write of hurts to the core of me....because I can feel their pain, the cold and the horrible light they at that moment in time will hold in their hearts til death does them part...........This is a Thought provoking piece that scares me. Well written, truth filled and painful poem that teaches and allows the reader to be there in the warrier shoes while sitting in the safty of their own home. Thanx for sharing this piece as it captured so much...SO much.10/10. Take care of U =Shelley=
Bob great poem I just love poems about War / not because I am a war monger it's because I have great feling and pashion about patriotama and social history. What I must tell you is that the Allies and the Hun played football on Christmas Day. I have written a couple of poems on the war check them out when you get time.
a powerful poem sad so sad and that's the strength here that you give the sadness form and the reader feels the deaths and prays for flesh long dead to be at peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/13/2024 4:42:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Praise for your beautiful elegy. Only an extraordinary soul could have created it. Take care. Kind wishes, Sandra