Somme

Somme

For Frederick Le Poidevin, my paternal Grandfather, 

one of the few to return from . . .   

The Great War, “The war to end all wars"

Today I feel so raw

I hate any fucking war

All those years ago today

So many men died

Left in the mud

In a field far from home

Loved ones not there

Not able to mourn

Alone and afraid

Bleeding and cold

Never to grow old

Struck down in their prime

So many never to return

What thoughts in their heads

The whistle blows

And over the top

They rushed en masse

Into the teeth of hell

Barbed wire tearing flesh

Bombs ripping them apart

Bullets screaming through the air

Thudding into men

Shredding organ and bone

Scattered all around in pieces

Like offal on a slaughterhouse floor

No longer human

Just gobbets of meat

Lying on the sodden ground

So few came home

And those that did

Would never forget

The sights and smells

The noise, the terror

The nightmares remained

With them all their lives

For those men back home

The war never ended

Replayed in their heads

Unbidden the horrors

Recalled without warning

Breaking their souls

Countless times again

And again down the years

Unable to forget . . . . 

Lest we forget

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