Sunday, 12 March 2017


Pick up your gun and go and fight,
Use your whit and grit with all of your might,
Use your rank as cover and take refuge at the back,
Let lesser morsels explore the beaten track.

Victims of terror, pawns in a game,
With many now mentally insane,
As to explore no man’s land is a fear,
With raining explosions booming in your ear.

Marching on, breaking the frozen puddles,
Bitter cold biting, sending your senses in muddles,
And to be brave by soldiering on under the sun,
A little comfort to cling to while facing what is to come.

Gruesome death, dismembered limbs flying,
Soldiers painstakingly trying to aid the dying,
Disorder, chaos at the front, shooting and stabbing
Slipping, hiding, taking cover while manoeuvring.

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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