The End of a Short Road

Terry Trainor By Terry Trainor, 10th Feb 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/1bdt4pd_/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

About teenagers joining the army to fight in The Great War, how their excitment turns to fear as they march towards the trenches,

The End of a Short Road



When I joined and wore my khaki uniform girls lined the streets, they kissed and hugged me,
I was six inches taller and so very proud, my dearest wish was to be in France at the front,
Swaggering, I walked in my hob nailed boots they sparked as they noisily scraped the ground,
All the boys from my village joined we were treated with pride we enjoyed our new adventure.

We were all teenagers with fresh faces as we marched to the trenches we had second thoughts,
Men wounded carried away from the carnage, bandaged, covered in filth, limbs missing oh God,
Exhausted faces some one shouting, 'march this way! march this way', towards the heavy guns,
Marching with hearts beating fast with mingled rapture, butterfly's a new dread of tomorrow.

The truth was here, did we ever dream that so dark a day would come, the swaggering stopped,
The harsh sounds of a thousand boots in unison crashing to the ground gave me goose pimples,
We marched by rivers and marshes past oak trees budding and birds sang in the early morning,
A thrush stood on an overturned blasted lorry singing a rhapsody, an ecstasy, we marched on.

Plum-bloom falling in showers on gentle breezes, blowing white carpets over the muddy ground,
Villages, left behind will have maypoles on the green, girls with ribbons in their soft hair,
Wild cherries in flower, rockets purple and white in full bloom, kissing sweethearts in woods,
Wallflowers in cottage gardens, rich masses of gold and delicious deep spicy country smells.

What have we left behind, what are we going to, now so near the cannons whump the rifles spit,
Single file along mud corridors then onto the front line stepping over men finding our places,
Watching the rats, smelling the stench, corpses rotting, unreal faces and gut wrenching wounds,
Looking along the line, every thirty yards a non commissioned office reeled off the many rules,

This will be my last place on scorched earth, people laying dead, rotting just a few feet away,
I will ever see my loved ones, my home or the colours of a fresh spring day, my time is written,
My dad will mow the corn, and pick apples from a orchard by a meadow, the meadow by the stream,
A premonition, I know will be true, will leave me and my friends lost in a foreign brutal land,

Tags

Cannons, Death, Death To Death, Deaths, Great War, March Day Light Hours, Marching, World War I

Meet the author

author avatar Terry Trainor
I am a Poet.
My passion is to write about nature and the history of nature.

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Comments

author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
10th Feb 2013 (#)

War is no picnic and the teenager will grow too fast to be a different person - after seeing the killing and maiming. Hope that war can be made history with the help of lessons learned. The evil can be nipped in the bud provided the majority good is vigilant. Thank you,Terry - siva

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author avatar Terry Trainor
11th Feb 2013 (#)

Thank you Siva my dear friend

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author avatar cnwriter..carolina
10th Feb 2013 (#)

thank you Terry for this most informative and detailed piece...

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author avatar Terry Trainor
11th Feb 2013 (#)

Thank you cn for your kind words.

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author avatar Stella Mitchell
10th Feb 2013 (#)

Just so good Terry, as per usual .The contrast between the fear and stench of war and the reminiscing of all the goodness of home and loved ones, and the beauty of the simple life , is so moving . You bring both aspects to life most vividly . Thank you my friend.
God bless you
Stella

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author avatar Terry Trainor
11th Feb 2013 (#)

Good morning Stella thanks for your kind comments. I was working all over the weekend so it was very rushed.

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author avatar LOVERME
11th Feb 2013 (#)

hello soldier.... you returned

war they say is an expensive hobby
fools only play
I shan't name who they are
by now we all know it,
its unfortunate we placed them there
to sign our death warrants

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author avatar Delicia Powers
11th Feb 2013 (#)

Terry your poems always make us feel deeper...we can step into history and relive it...a marvelous gift, thank you.

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author avatar Terry Trainor
12th Feb 2013 (#)

Thank you Delicia.

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author avatar Kingwell
13th Feb 2013 (#)

Your writing is excellent - youth with it's dreams- and then reality.

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author avatar Terry Trainor
13th Feb 2013 (#)

Thank you again my kind friend.

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author avatar LOVERME
13th Feb 2013 (#)

NO THANKS FOR LOVERME ??ANGRY!

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author avatar Factboard
13th Feb 2013 (#)

This is an excellent job. I will love you to post more, so interesting and realistic

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author avatar Terry Trainor
14th Feb 2013 (#)

Thank you Victor you are very kind

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author avatar Songbird B
29th Mar 2013 (#)

When I read these poems I am caught within them totally. Your descriptive powers are awesome Terry..

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