A war poem
March 28th, 2009
Becky’s history curriculum this year includes World War I, and as part of her coursework, she was supposed to imagine herself as a Wilfred Owen and write a poem about war.
All I can say is that, parental bias aside, I find it amazing that such a piece can be written by a 14-year-old who never even watches movies about wars. It goes without saying that she got the highest possible grade for it.
WE WILL RETURN
Among the cannons that explode,
We stand and pray and yearn,
After this fight, no matter what,
To home, we will return.
The gas creeps in, and kills the slow.
But there’s no time to mourn.
We will be strong, we will prevail,
To home, we must return.
The young ones die, so quickly here.
Too much they haven’t learned.
They came for fun, and saw the truth.
To home, they won’t return.
I see the blood, I see the guts,
These sights make my eyes burn.
The enemy is gaining strength,
I don’t think we’ll return.
The fireworks that light the air,
And make it swirl and churn.
They aren’t of the happy sort,
Can we please now return?
There’s no life visible at all,
There stands a lonely fern.
Everything has been so destroyed,
Dear God, can we return?
Our rations are diminishing,
There’s not a grain of corn.
We will not live for very long,
Will nobody return?
But we must keep our hopes alive,
Though we’re half starved and worn.
One phrase must keep our spirits up:
To home, we will return.
Among the cannons that explode,
We stand and pray and yearn,
After this fight, no matter what,
To home, we will return.
The gas creeps in, and kills the slow.
But there’s no time to mourn.
We will be strong, we will prevail,
To home, we must return.
The young ones die, so quickly here.
Too much they haven’t learned.
They came for fun, and saw the truth.
To home, they won’t return.
I see the blood, I see the guts,
These sights make my eyes burn.
The enemy is gaining strength,
I don’t think we’ll return.
The fireworks that light the air,
And make it swirl and churn.
They aren’t of the happy sort,
Can we please now return?
There’s no life visible at all,
There stands a lonely fern.
Everything has been so destroyed,
Dear God, can we return?
Our rations are diminishing,
There’s not a grain of corn.
We will not live for very long,
Will nobody return?
But we must keep our hopes alive,
Though we’re half starved and worn.
One phrase must keep our spirits up:
To home, we will return.
——————
Becky first wanted to post the poem on her own blog, but then decided that my larger audience would provide better publicity. As they say, printed with author’s permission.
You’ve good reason to be very proud parents. I know of few WWI-knowledgable adults who could have done better; or even as well. Congratulations, Becky.
Bravo!
A budding poet! Go, Becky!
Wow. We are speechless. We have no speech. We are like Superman on cryptonite. Child… too… brilliant…
That’s good. Very good. And I speak as a lolver of peoptry and a published poet.
You did a great job Becky!
Uh, but me know spell so gud.
So, what I meant to say was:
That’s good. Very good. And I speak as a lover of poetry and a published poet.
Off now to get caffeine.
Bex, pay no attention to Vince. He’s lives in the wilderness and rarely has any human contact.
And, yes. Most excellent work.
My skin go goose and i can not understand how a 14 year old can wright so stong words! Mama. I always know that she is the best.
Hi people and thank you for the lovely comments!
I have told by my parents to tell everyone:
I AM CURRENTLY IN CHINA. Like, rite this moment! eek!
I love you, solnze!
deda
Very nice, dad’s talent finally went on to somebody who made great use out of it. Good job Becka!
Wow – very lovely poem, and Becky, you’re a talented young woman. Keep writing!
Adding my praise to the long line ahead of me. That was very, very well done.
I’m late to this party, but add my congratulations as well. Excellent work, Becky! Powerful imagery and very moving.
Becka, it’s a 3 thumbs up poem! Wow! It’s so emotional, very expressive, and amazingly deep! Hats down!