Upper School Choice - chess

Well Versed In History – Y8 WW1 Poems

10th February 21

Students in Y8 have been looking at the poetry which came out of WW1 and writing their own verses, inspired by the war poets.

Here are three of their moving poems – and one which is read aloud by the author, Eden:


WW1 Poem by Mina S

The deafening whistles of the fire filled globes burning through my ears.  Blinded by the sight of fallen friends and foe.  Each time my foot hits the ground it's greeted by a murky concoction of rat corpse and mud.  I'm numb to every feeling except loneliness.  Each breath I take a scent enters my nose without consent, the smell of death, smoke and   dirt makes me unsteady.  I struggle to distinguish between reality and fantasy.  The only thing protecting me is the memory of my daughter and my wife.
Eventually all the sounds start to drown out.  The shallow laughter of fellow fighters echo throughout my ears. My heavy eyelids   start to force themselves over my eyes, as if attached to weights.  The darkness comes and all that's heard are the faint screams of my forever-gone friends.  The sky is as dark as the feeling I felt when the news of my father's death was delivered.
Another sleepless night, my head hangs like a wilted flower. A dreary sky   clouded over by grief.  I'm uncertain whether I'm still walking.  My boots are filed to the brim with dingy water that has specks of blood   encapsulated within.  Turning my neck back to look behind I see a flock of depleted men gripping on   to the last glimpse of hope.  I wish this was all a dream I could just wake up from, but yet  again I'm hit in the face with the fact that it's all real and there's no escape.

WW1 Poem by Felix E

     Meadows of green,   BANG BANG BANG,  The sound of gunshots,   Ripping past my head.    The sun blaring in my face,  More wretched Germans to chase,   Another day of bloodshed,   Another day of terror.    Young children eating,   Talking among themselves,   Waiting for their next orders,   They cry on their shoulders.    My feet cold by the mud,   Only bullets whooshing by,   Can be seen,  Hitting my friends in the face.

The Mess They Didn’t Make by Ethan C

Boys queue to sign up

Like lambs to the slaughter

For the country! for the pride!

But little do they know,

the terror around the corner


People tell them it’ll be alright

When there’s nothing but death in sight

People tell them they will be ok

When they know it might be their last day.


You can almost hear everyone too old to go

Thanking god they don’t have to

Too scared of the work

They make children do


We thank the boys who fixed the mess

The mess that they didn’t make

Where Next?