Welcome to this open-access war poetry website
This is a free access site for any war poet writing in English - members of armed forces, civilians, people affected by war or moved by the knowledge or experience of war. You may be an experienced writer or a complete newcomer. This writers' zone operates like a blog, but instead of leaving comments you post your poems.
It is often a good idea to say a few words about yourself or to tell readers what gave you the idea for the poem.
To start
Choose a section that your poem might be most suitable for, then type in or paste your poem. Put it in the "2011" section if you are not sure which section is most suitable. Don't forget to add your name and comments if you wish.
It's all very easy - even if the following sounds complicated. Try it and see! You will need to click on "Comments" then paste or type your poem in the "Post a comment" box. Select a "profile" from the drop-down list. If you have an account with one of the items on the list please use it, otherwise select "Anonymous" and post your poem. It should appear instantly on this website/blogsite.
There are many poems on this topic on The War Poetry website http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/
Only about war
Only poems about war may be posted here.They may be strongly worded, but not designed to offend.
This WARpoetrywritersZONE is intended to make it possible for anyone who previously wished to add their poems to the warpoetry website to use this as an alternative as very often it either takes a long time for me to add poems or (all too often) poems are overlooked simply because I run out of time to deal with them.
David Roberts, Editor of The War Poetry website http://www.blogger.com/www.warpoetry.co.uk
Lies
ReplyDeleteIn the softness of your touch I am almost lost
The horrors I have stored like the placing on shelves
Of number one, two, three deaths.
Four, five and six sit behind, as if to hide
I know, I remember each one
But I am cleansed by your not knowing
You do not see the drops of blood lodged
In the depths of my soul...
So we laugh but I turn away, I am unclean
Still your eyes see this other different man
A soft face, holding no horrors, no fear
I look at him in your eyes and begin to feel
I can never erase, I can never go back
He is gone, but I can't tell you
So in your purity of thought he lives
This hero, this Demi God, he lives
But I have died.
Marguerite Rami
Early 2011
The thoughts of what has been done in the name of war,
and the coming home, what then?
The warmth of the sun
ReplyDeleteHe fell silently, whilst the sun shone on his face
He looked beautiful, bronzed with not a mark on him
He could have been asleep,
We didn't know, we carried on with our day
There should have been a feeling, a sense, a warning
But there was nothing, it would be a full twenty hours before we knew
He still slept, with the sun on his face, it took time
Time to hold him, to move him, to kiss him, to love him
They left him sleeping, until the afternoon before they moved him
It wasn't safe they said, so he slept in the sun, still complying
Waiting for his comrades to pick him up
We waited for him to come home, now we knew
The awful truth...
We buried him on a beautiful sunlit day, the kind of day
You remember forever, he would have loved this day
With the wild flowers of rose, running free, lavender to
Cover his soul, and rosemary and bay leaves to mark the spot
Of an English soldier lying still, on a beautiful warm afternoon...
Marguerite Rami
24/02/2011
Reflections