The Somme Poem by Hazel Connelly

They landed on the beach
The bullets fly like rain
The battle of the Somme
Sixty thousand were slain.

They stand together each one a friend
As they rendezvous with death
Before they reach the ridges end
Friends drew their last breathe.

They wait to be ordered over the top
The ground below stained red
They don't look back they don't stop
They climb over the dead.

They curse this war where a million lay
Where soldiers marched to hell
Blood soaked the earth this day
Beneath the enemy shell.

© Hazel