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Literature World war one poem

Their work of art

The 28th of the seventh month

We marched away a cheerful bunch

The war we faced, we weren't that scared

until the enemy left us impaired

A stick in hand and colour on the other

It was they, who stole my brother

Let out a gush of coloured atmosphere

We choke and gasp like mountaineers

And yet they climb while we fall down

And soon we are, without a sound.

They tear me down and skin my body's coat

My men's heads they hang and slit their throats

Along the wall of body parts

Like Snow White's queen they eat our hearts.

Don't come near me, I who have been tainted

And in their hearts my wounds are painted

My skin bursts open, my cuts inflected

I am no more then their art perfected.

What was left untold

Each single men, lit by a match stick to guild them on their way

Their faces a glow with hope to save one's country

Left behind the bedtime stories their mothers would have told them

Their childhood memories outdated,

Pushed back to bring forward the glory of war

It was only a flicker which cause this chaos to rummage 

And what did they think as they stood a lined?

Did they remember back to when they were young?

When they weren't chained with cuffs of steel

Those days spent watching the sunset out on the front lawn

The promised made to the girl back in town

What's left of them, now crushed and scattered by the wind

Like robots their thoughts are no longer necessary

Their screams are only whispers in others ears

Sound tuned out like a broken melody

The sweet sound of nothingness rings a tune

So loud that only a deaf man could hear it after his ears are cut off

The blood and pus that comes after, flowing like water in a dry stream

The cuts one bears in order to live through another day

What lies were told to us back in our home country

The cheers they would yell as we boarded to leave

Was our naiveté what cause our death?

Is this what they call the beginning of the end?

If only the begging and pleading would stop

But no, my men, they beg  for mercy by  the hands of those who slaughter

The untold horrors that unfolded in front of our eyes

A story worth telling if us men are still alive to tell the tale

Otherwise it would just be another story left untold.

Only yesterday 

It felt like only yesterday, their hearts all beat so strong

They glazed along the sunset

Before they were blinded for so long

Inside the worn down duvet

They sit there and they're craze

Never to notice how fast our children grew

Still mesmerised by heat haze

What meets them beyond the horizon

The marching down at dawn

Who told them the horrors they would face

Before they are long gone

Left to be stranded in a dream

Where none has come to visit

Where all they could do was scream

From the nightmares that persisted

Never looking back to what damage was done

And for what? To save ones country from the fallen?

It felt like only yesterday that I had let him go

Slipped from the tip of my sweaty fingers

Still alive, take breaths, but too dull to glow

Still walking, yet falling, sanity lingers

For it felt like only yesterday, I had held him in my arms

Lemon tarts

The lemon tree that once stood tall, it's leaves began to wither

It's branches break, the colour stains and roots begin to quiver

The sour taste still lingers in my mouth like rusty iron of acidity

No more will I ever taste my love's sweet kiss, the lemon tart's putridity.

The four poems written are all linked by a theme, the loss of innocence. It explores this theme through a variety of perspectives. The poem "Their work or art" and "What was left untold", is written from the perspective of a solider in world war one. It tells a story of how before they soldiers went to war they had thought of it was a good thing and that they were glorifying their country. They had walked into war with confidence and pride without knowing the real damage that war can cause on people. Both poems start off with the solider going off to serve their country leaving behind everything to glorify their country but after entering the war they realise the terror and was not prepared for the experiences they faced and were very naive about what war really was. In the poem "Their work of art" It starts with the date of the first world war and how they were cheerful and only dreamt of glorifying their country until they faced the enemy in war. "A stick in hand and colour on the other" refer to, the stick being either a paint brush hence the title or it also can be a weapon and colour referring to paint or blood. "coloured atmosphere" referring to the green gas and towards the end of the poem it state how the solider is pretty much dead and ruined. "What was left untold" tells a story about how the soldiers left everything behind to go to war and the regret they felt after entering into war. The poem "only yesterday" is written from the perspective of those who were at home waiting for their loved ones to come back. The persona explains the damage that is done to the solider after he returns home from war and how it only felt like yesterday that they had seen their loved ones still sane and bursting with life. This poem fits in with the theme the loss of innocences because the people at home was unaware of the damage that could be done to their loved ones. "Lemon tarts" is a poem which can be interpreted in different perspectives. It can be interpreted in a soldiers point of view where the lemon tree is a metaphorical way of saying the solider that once stood tall is dying and breaking, stained with blood. The sour taste like iron refers to the taste of blood and how the solider wont ever be able to make it home to see his sweetheart because he is spoiled. It can also be read from the perspective of the person at home and how they were one happy that their loved ones were going to serve the country but inside they are breaking down and missing them. There was bitterness left behind that the persona could still taste after the solider has left and no more will they see each other again because their love which was once sweet is now spoiled because of their distance in war. Through these poems the theme of loss of innocence is highlighted and brings forward the tragedy of war.