Over The Top! Poem by Mark Sellen

The whistle blows and out we go,
To certain death, well, no-one knows?
A final glance along the trench,
Friends eyes meet and then we wrench,
Ourselves from our home of mud,
O’er the top and onward trudge.

Machine guns rattle, mortars boom,
Screaming death to those whom,
Have been chosen to shed their blood,
Amongst the trenches, rats and mud;
For King and Country, or so I’m told,
Go into battle, the young and old.

Speeding bullets whistle by,
One catches someone in his eye,
His head explodes, a gory sight,
Brains blown out; with all my might,
Filled with anger, fear and rage,
I bravely take the battle stage.

A shell lands behind me with a thud!
And I pray to God that it’s a dud.
Another lands and my world goes black;
There’s something heavy on my back?
My heartbeat pounds like a clanging bell,
Nostrils fill with an earthy smell.

I’m lying crooked in a muddy hell,
I can hardly breathe, and I know well,
I’ve only moments left to live,
There’s nothing else that I can give,
King and Country; they’ve had it all,
So Goodbye Darling, one and all!

Suddenly, I hear a scratching sound,
As frantic limbs paw the ground,
Followed by a chink of light,
Starting dim, becoming bright...
...er now, as they free my head,
I feel relieved that I’m not dead

Dragged upwards; my chest so tight,
Still holding on with all my might,
I reach the surface; glad I’m found,
Though my eyes; they stare as I look around
My friends around me are all dead,
Wishing now it was I instead.

My head is bleeding,
Legs feel numb,
Clothes are in shreds and I’ve lost a thumb,
More men pass me; they dare not stop,
Once they’ve left their shelter,
Gone Over the Top!