From Heswall, Wirral, UK, Winter 2007

For Your Country

By Ella, 13

Isn't it glorious to die for your country?
To know that you died for your king?

Marching and marching, heading out for war.
Your life is like the ashes of a fire,
Dying.

The blasts and explosions fading away,
and yet they are still with you.
The stench of rotting bodies still lingering on you and your clothes.

Soldiers all around you hobbling, coughing, dying.
Blistered and barefoot.
The pain searing through their aching bodies.
Too tired and cold to realise, whats creeping up behind them.
Gasping for air as their bodies drown in the deadly gas.

GAS! QUICK! THERE'S GAS!

The exhaustion is overwhelming,
but so is the will to live.
Soldiers slowly breathe with the feeling thet they might live.
One man: too late, too slow, too tired.

A green pea soup.
Not being consumed but consuming.
A cloudy mist, destroying all life.
Reaching out for life and help.

Coughing, splutering, dying.
Knowing that he will die, what can you do?

A frozen body staring at you,
His face contorting, features twisting.

Dead bodies given no respect.
Thrown on an old rusty wagon,
Dying for their country.
His life fading away like a nightmare,
Dying for your country.

Death following you everywhere,
Ready to take you.
Staring you in the face, mocking you.
A sea of red - blood everywhere.

Isn't it glorious to die for your country?
To know that you died for your king?

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Killer War

By Donna, 14

Tired, muddy, ill, uncormfortable.
We all want to go home.
To see are family.
Go to bed.
To eat proper food.
We feel like a delirious army going home from the pub.

Can hear the sound of the bombs.
Gun shots better to have come away.
From the smell of the muddy water,
That still lingers on the clothes,
like a love that never ends.

Drained and injured but most of them,
Can't see because of the gas,
ash in the air most of them can't,
Walk because they injured themselves.
They are also are sleepy.

POISION GAS EVERYWHERE !!!.
GAS MASKS ON NOW !! QUICK !!.

Hurring around trying to find are gas masks.
The troups are looking for one of are other troops,
Put your gas masks on now and help the other troops,
Once he has found it his lungs,
took to much air in like a vaccum.

Throwing his body around trying to find life,
but there is nothing there.

He is getting thinner,
As gas eats away at his organs,
like a starving beast.

Dead he is.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Struggle

By Sally, 13

Hopeless, fed up, dying.
We move slowly, heads in the ground.
Are bones aching and leaving intense fighters behind.
Moving quicker not knowing where I get my enery.
The sounds of war get quieter.
Fading into the distance until no more is to be heard.
Worried to see what is ahead of us.
Knowing that we can't go on.
They all look like drunken men hobiling from left to right.
When we all started they were full of life.
Know they don't care about dying.
Some sleeping right now but still walking with us.
RUN QUICK GET OUT OF HERE IT'S GAS!!!!!
Rushing quickly reaching for my mask.
But still trying not to breath.
We are protected with the masks on.
I stop, I turn, I look.
A man has not got his mask out.
He is screaming and strugiling the gas is in him.
I can hear people but i just can't see them.
I reach out but there is nobody to touch.
Feeling terrible his arms out and his face frozen.
Looking right into eyes, I just can't look away.
My heart is pounding like a drum.
He looks so scared and helpless.
Watching him tossing and turning in pain.
His hand over his heart screaming with fear.
I watch his very last breath before he died

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Heartakes From World War I

By Louise, 13

We have been walking for weeks.
Backs hurt.
We are exhausted.
Chests feel like they have been punched over and over again.

We have finally left the gruesome battlefield.
Hearts are leaping,
But we want to be sleeping.

We may have escaped battle,
But for now we have yet to worry.
Men walk with closed eyes,
Not noticing the gas bombs dropping around us.

PUT YOUR MASKS ON FAST!

Men chuck the bags on the floor,
Frantically searching for their masks.
Men finally get them on.
When we turn around we see a sight,
That no one longs to see.
A man breathing in deadly gases,
Bleeding and steaming burnt organs.
But all he is intentionally doing is screaming.

We grab onto each other,
Trying to drag each other
Through the lake of green pea soup.

Our fellow comrade ran towards us
With a great big sigh,
But all we could do is watch him die.

To see your friend chucked on a wagon,
Covered in dead bodies,
Spuing blood and guts,
Is the worst thing in the world.

I can still remember the smell,
The sight of the waterfall of splashing organs,
From my fellow comrade.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

I'm lucky to be breathing

By Lorna, 13

Creep around like
rats in the sewer;
crawling back from battle
the men are now fewer.
I'm lucky to be breathing!

Alive and moving on
yet hearing bombs stoping,
seeing victims dying,
smelling dead bodies roting.
I'm lucky to be breathing!

Friendship is the only comfort
my dearest friend is shot;
skeleton wheezes for air
unfortunatly this happens a lot
I'm lucky to be breathing!

Mustard fog clouds arounds us
'Run, get out, get out!
Get your masks out!'
I now cough, but try to shout.
I am lucky to be breathing!

Masks on I'm safe
he is not though,
he screams, I get my gun.
Dying quick is better than slow.
I'm lucky to be breathing!

A bullet is fired
I'm lucky no more;
It`s no fun fighting
In the first world war!

I breathe no more!

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

walking

By Gemma, 14

We fell so ill and tried,
we're coughing and splutering,
moaning and groaning.
hunched not, not standing up straight
walking away hearing gun shoots,
gas shells and bombs falling.
unhappy, bitter.
shouting and screaming,
people dying,
friends are exhusted and look like drunk men
most of them have trench foot,
shells falling around us.
"quick quick, as maskis on"
every one rushing getting there maskes on
One man walking around crying, tangled in his wires
Like a half dead bird
Stumbling around.
Everytime he screams more gas goes into his lungs,
He cannot see anymore and is surrounded by a big green cloud of gas.
I am safe.
But he is not.
Running towards me, for help.
I know he is going to die.
I feel helpless as he si put onto the cart
Staring at me.
Changing colour, as they go over th bumps.
The gas is eating his insides.
Now as they go over thye bumps he is sick.
The fear and death in his eyes.
Walking behind him I see him fading away.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Do You Want To Take That Chance?

By Elle, 13

Hauling my exhausted body through the soggy mud,
My back hunches like a butchers hook,
My stomach murmers like the earth before a quake,
Trench mud sticks to my ragged clothes,
Images of dying men flash-back in my battered head.

My fellow soldiers limp and linger beside me,
They seem totally oblivious,
Oblivious to the uproar of bombs behind them,
They turn their backs on their murdered friends.

"GASES, DON'T BREATH THE AIR!!"

I desperately search for my gas mask,
As i put it on i look around,
All but one man have their masks on,
The man gasps for clean air,
Its too late,
The toxicating gas has already peirced his swelling lungs.

I stare into the dying mans eyes,
But they seem to move out of view as a green blanket of gas encompasses me,
A pair of out-streched arms break throught the thick blanket,
The dying man drags me out from eithin the deep sea of gas.

I feel almost remorsful as i know the man has no chance of survival.

As the half dead man is carried to the wagon,
I see he has no expressions on his face,
But he has death in his eyes.

Propaganda makes out fighting for your country is brave. but in reality its a chance of life or death.

Do You Want To Take That Chance?

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Fight For Survival

By Clare, 13

We stagger around.
Dragging our exhausted bodys.
Chest pains unbearable.
Waiting for that almighty bang.
Relieved to be safe.
Thingsare much quieter, yet the the sounds of machine guns lingers like a bad smell in our ears.
We fall slowly to the ground.
So tired we look like drunken men.
Cuts, bruises , lost boots.
We still stagger on.
Then... move fast GAS ATTACK !! QUICK GET MASKS ON !!
I look around making sure everybody has masks on.
So far So good.
I look to the left.Bill is staggering.
The gas has hit his lungs... It could be too late.
We try saving him.. my heart pounding like a drum.
My best friend.
Tears rise to my eyes.
I can hear everybody but the thick gas takes over.
I can't see them.
I panick.
I feel physically sick bill gets chucked onto the half dead bodies.
He's gone.
So helpless yet a fighter
I watched the blood rise from his lungs.
He fought with his country.
He's died with his country.
Slowly his eyes seal shut.
Forever.
The last breathe.
the last smile.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

For Your Country

By Ella, 13

Isn't it glorious to die for your country?
To know that you died for your king?

Marching and marching, heading out for war.
Your life like the ashes of a fire,
Dying.

The blasts and explosions fading away,
yet they are still with you.
The stench of rotting bodies,
lingering on you and your clothes.

Soldiers all around you hobbling, coughing, dying.
Blistered and barefoot.
The pain searing through their aching bodies.
Too tired and cold, to realise whats creeping up behind them.
Gasping for air as their bodies drown in the deadly gas.

GAS! QUICK! THERE'S GAS!

The exhaustion is overwhelming,
but so is the will to live.
Soldiers slowly breathe with the feeling that they might survive.
One man : too late, too slow, too tired.

A green pea soup,
not being consumed but consuming.
A cloudy mist, destroying all life.
Reaching out for life and help.

Coughing, splutering, dying.
Knowing that he will die what can you do?

A frozen body staring at you,
his face contorting, features twisting.

Dead bodies given no respect.
Thrown on an old rusty wagon,
dying for their country.
His life fading away like a nightmare,
dying for your country.

Death following you everywhere, ready to take you,
staring you in the face, mocking you.
A sea of red - blood everywhere.

Isn't it glourious to die for your country?
To know that you died for your king?

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Victim of the Mustard gas

By Louise, 13

Tired and exhausted we crawl back to our trench
Moving away from the sound of shells and flares
War is getting more and more distant
Relieving to know that soon we will be back to safty and out of danger
Comdades look more like drunken men than soldiers
Hobbling around, too exhausted to even stand straight
Unaware that shells creep closer from behind
QUICK, GET DOWN, GAS MASKS ON!
I struggle to get my mask on
Finally I manage just in time
But oh no one of my comrades is still
Struggling.
I shout, I scream, I sob
A huge cloud of thick green gas fillsthe
Air like a devils breath
I am helpess he runs towards me coughing
Awfully.
There is nothing i can do
He is dying
It is horrifying watching a man die
He turns pale
Green lips and eyes
Almost like a ghost
The medics carry him to a wagon filled
With dead and dying bodies
We walk behind with our heads bowed low
I hear him splutering, blood oozes out of his mouth
Suddenly, the splutering stops
All is quiet.
He is dead.
I just hope I am not next to go.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Your Country Needs You

By Sarah, 13

I drag my tired and injured body across the muddy battlefield,
Every move I make seems as if it could be my last,

We slowly force ourselves away from the death scene,
The sights are spinning around inside my head and the sounds are ringing in my ears,

I glance behind to take one last look at the horror,
Men trudging along asleep,
Rose red blood oozing out of their mud soaked wounds,
The pain should be excrutiating,
But nobody feels it anymore,

Take Cover!

The dark,musty cloud of horror fills the air,
Terror lingers in the air more powerful than the gas,
My heart is pounding as I pray everybody has took cover,

The thick cloud of green smoke engulfs us as quick as a gun shot,
Nothing is clear anymore all is green and foggy,
Sinking low into the muddy ground,
I breathe deep and slow,
Fearing each breath could be my last,

Through the thick smoke a figure is immerging,
I nervously ensure my gun is within my power,
Unaware of what lies ahead,
As the man nears I realise,
I know his face,

He spews, splutters and fights helplessly for breath,
Through tears he frantically fumbles in his many bags,
I force my weak and energy deprived body up and out of the cold, wet bog,
Doing all i can to try and help him,
But inside I know it is impossible,

The killer clouds of smoke are slowly starting to clear,
The man is now entirely visible to me,
He is pushed, struck and forced upon the death wagon,

He violently barks up deep, thick red blood,
Lips cracked and pale,
Face as white as a ghost,
He stares straight through me,
As he is flung worthlessly on top of the death bed,

The man is now writhing in agony,
Blood and guts pouring out of him like a constant, crimson waterfall,
He lets out a last moan and a quiet yet heard cry for help,
As the smelly, heavy wagon disappears into the distance,

I watch him die,
Along with many other fellow allies,
They may be gone, but the horrific sights and memories will haunt me forever,
Could I have done more? I ask myself over and over.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Me And My Comrades

By Carissa, 14

Dragging myself along the ground soaked in mud.
Pain.
Fury.
Filthy.
Everyone feels this way

Bang! Smash!
We can't escape the sound.
Like a song that sticks in your head.

Men falling asleep.
Deaf to the shells landing behind them.
Walking slowly, dragging their bodies.
The air; murky, dirty, poison for the lungs.
We gasp for air.
One man drops down.
Dead.

GAS, GAS.
MASKS, MASKS.
NOW! We`re not going to die this way.

Mask,stuck in my bag.
Pull, Pull.
Tug, Tug.
Gasping for air, shove my mask on.
Pete doesn't put his on.
Tangled wires.
He struggles.

Murky smoke a cloud of poison; green.
Smoky, choking gas.

Rushing towards me ihaling gas.
Choking.
Helpless I shed a tear of his pain.

My Comrade thrown into the wagon.
His face white as snow.
His life ruined.

Blood pouring from his mouth.
Him dying that way doesn't make me happy.
Dying for my country.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

War Of The End

By Emma , 13

Exhausted, tired and ill.
Dragging our broken blisterd bodys across the field of death like a worm in a desert.
Coughing.
Leaving bombs of destruction behind us.
Leaving flaring fire behind us.
Leaving death behind us.
Gas! Gas! Gas! quick men get your masks on!
We throw our smelly masks upon our broken faces.
Running. Gasping. Crying.
Clouds of mustard surround us.
We're safe except one.
Runing. Gasping. Crying. Dying.
Blod splutters from his mouth.
No hope. No faith. No lfe.
He squirms on the wagon of death. Dying.
Who dared say it was glorious to die for your country.
Who dared say!

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Drop Dead Fred

By Tayla , 13

Tired.
Hungry.
Scared.
Afraid we won't make it.
The sounds of the
Guns, bombs echoing behind us.

Walking away from tragedy.
Exhausted.
Tired.
Our feet are hurting like
Were walking on glass.
Walking away from misery.

Fred and I walking side by side.
Tom was hit by a bomb
Fred hoped it wouldn't happen to him.

GAS MASKS!!

Everyone rushes to put their masks on.
Everyone had done it.
I see a person struggling.
It's Fred
Gas was getting into his lungs.

Thick green smoke
Made it impossible to see.
I couldn't even see my best mate Fred.

Suddenly movement in the gas,
someone struggling towards me.
It's Fred!
I see him gasping for breath but i can't help him.

Take a second and imagine a family member
Or friend was
Lying amongst dead bodies
Fighting for life
That's how it felt for me seeing Fred,
He lay there staring at me.

I see Fred lying there as the wagon moves
Along the uneven surface.
As the wagon goes over each bump
Fred slides to the edge coughing
up blood and his organs.
Then he falls out of the wagon and
drops dead
that was my friend Fred, who is now dead.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

War survival

By Snejana, 13

We stay in trench all day long
By now our feet, they really pong

Misrable, cold, hungry, and hurt
All my men need to go to their fort

Fresh breeze and no more noise
Finally away from what look like toys..

I stumble and trip at every step
Icough and splutter gasping for air
My eyes are watering and starting to sting
All I want is rest no dispair

gas, gas, quick men get your masks on....

I'm safe, I have my mask on, but..
Peter, my soldeir is screaming and crying
so much pain, from somethign as small as a nut
It's too late someone will tell Mary, Peter is dying

Thick green gas, almost as if I've fallen into moss
but we are nearly all safe so it's the other sides loss

John the youngest of my recruits has breathed in some gas
he needs help from my gun and he need it fast!!

Rotting flesh won't disguise the pain in his eyes
It kills me to see him like this as I am to blame

The images of dying men won't ever leave your mind
gas, fire, death, and explosion..
are hopefully far behind...

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The horror of war

By Charlotte-May, 13

We drag ourselves, marching to our peaceful resting place.
All exhauste groaning as we trudge.
Backs hunched, we wail like wolves howling at the moon.
Moving faster at the sight of paradise comes into view. The sound of gun shots left far behind us
Were all exhausted.
Looking more like drunken men than soliders.
Are backs crouched. So tired we cannot here the sound of gas shells falling closely behind us.
"GAS MASKS!!GAS MMAASSKKSS!!!!!"
Fumbling, we quickly grab our masks.
I'm shocked as i see the rush of energy over come my comrades, but one man is to slow.
He falls to his knees as he screams, wails as the wicked gas pierces his lungs.
A sea of green surrounds me and my comrades.
Fumbling around I search through the gas trying to find another living soul.
A comrade comes crawling through the killer gas towards me.
I hold him closelt as he coughs. I sob helplessly.

He is thrown onto the wagon.
I watch helplessly.
I can see fear in his eye. But knowing I will never see him agin, I now see death.
The jutter of the wagon forced the blood up his throat.
He splutters and coughs in an agonizing attempt to regain his insides from spitting out onto the coarpses int he death wagon.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Sudden Death

By Hannah , 13

Tired ,miserable and exhausted,
We have been walking for so long my bones are weak,

I run faster yet I am useless and tired,
The sound of bursting shells ringing in my ear,

My feet are blistered, painful, pounding like a drum,
The more steps I take the harder it gets,
When will this end?
Torture and pain again and again

GAS MASKS!!!!

He lies there weeping, his chest tight,
His breathing becomes deeper,
Finding it more difficult to breathe,

The gas is now spreading faster and faster,
It fills the air like green mist,

My comrade`s face is wrinkled and dirty like a corpses,
His coughing becomes worse as the gas fills his lungs,

Spluttering, coughing, crying, moans are heard from the wagon,
His body now frail,
Movement non-existent,

How would you feel?
Just imagine walking past the dreaded wagon where he is lying in deep agony,
His body sprawled out,
Almost dead.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

War Cries

By Abby, 13

Somnabulantly we trek,
Spluttering out our lives as battles
Destroy us.

Trudging away from
Battlefield, i fear the
Horrors that will always
Haunt me.

Haunt me when awakeing,
Haunt me when sleeping,
Haunt me when dead.

Fellow soldiers look
Fragile and
Feeble.

They have signs on their
Heads, signs saying
Target.

Enemies find it
Simple to
Attack them, as they
Struggle to hear,
Struggle to see,
Struggle to react,
To the weapons about to
Smash into them.

"Masks!!"

Men are
Frantic, although
Weary and
Weak, all but one,
One man who's too
Slow and is
Choking considerably.

Green waves of
Gas, it's
Impossible to see,
The wave;
Determined to find food,
The food is us.

I feel
Terrible, seeing the
Helpess man
Flalling his arms,
It's too late,
The waves found its
prey.

Imagine your son,
Brother, Lover or
Grandson with
Rolling eyes full of
Pain, blue lips
Smothered in the
Blood of other
Soldiers.

There's no need for me to
Imagine, I've seen it.

I've seen men turn to
Blood and
Mucus, I've
Heard the
Death
Cries.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Hell's Bells

By Lauren, 13

Blood and guts,
Soldiers dying,
Guns and bombs,
Relatives crying.

Painful deaths,
Contagious diseases,
Chlorene gas,
Coughs and sneezes.

Hell's bells,
Ringing in the air,
The sound of screaming,
Does anybdy care?

People fighting,
Sludge and gore,
Risking their lives,
in the first world war.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

War as they see it

By Ellen, 13

Moving now for days.
Lost people.
Nobody can stand.
So cold.
Feel dead.
My soul is dead.

Faint smell of rot.
The sound of flaring guns.

I want to walk.
Forced by the pain to stumble and crawl.
I have to stand tall.
After all.
I am the leader.

A sea of gas fills the air.
A tidle wave.
Swims into their lungs.

Your heart crumbling.
Your friend runs towards you.

Faces turn grey.
Lips cracked and cold.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Man Who Died At War!

By Kerri - Louise, 13

Our faces are white,
Our lips are blue,
Freezing Cold,
As it turns to night.
Walking steadily to safety,
We need the rest and heat.
We hobble across the muddy field,
Unable to see our feet.
Feet covered in blood and cuts,
Boots are left behind.
Gas shells explode but we can`t hear them through our deafening chesty coughs.
"RUN! !GET OUT OF HERE! !GAS!"
We hurry to find our gas masks,
Like animals going wild in the jungle.
Grasping for masks,
We put them on.
Arms waving in the air,
Member of the army,
Doesn`t find his gas mask,
Breathes in too much gas.
I run over.
He pukes blood.
All over himself.
I yell for help.
He had already started,
To rott away.
Gas spreads everywhere.
Like the fog on a misty day.
Terrible.
He stubbles over.
Face like a rainbow,
One that was about to explode.
He`s in so much pain.
Guilty.
Mean.
Yet there is nothing I can do.
Imagine you are in this situation.
Imagine you have to walk,
Behind the wagon carrying,
Your comrade and watch him writhe in agony.
What would you feel like?
How would you feel to know that your friend is dying in pain but mothing you can do?
Imagine what it would be like.
To listen to your dying friend,
As the movement of the wagon,
Across the uneven ground, forces blood up from his lungs,
Being turned into blood and mucus by gas.
Would you ever forget?
Would you ever forgive?
Knowing that you can`t help.
How would you feel?
Knowing that you are going to live the rest of your life.
Remembering the memory.
Of the time you went to war, and watched your friend die?
If you have been through this experience.
Or felt for this story.
Then you will never say that it is glorious to die for your country.
It is terrifying and painful.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Dead Mans Scream

By Rebecca, 13

Coughing, vomiting, dying in mud are we.
I will go home respected, knowing I protected Her Majesty.

Some soldiers pushing to the front,
I am pushing not to see.
Back to the Trench for a rest like a coward,
No one is more scared than me.

My feet are so sore, I lost my boots.
I leave the front line, swaying, leave my coms to shoot.
I'll be safe here, I'll get some sleep,
Didn't see the bombs so in pain I weep.

GAS BOMBS, TAKE COVER, MASKS!

''Gas! Gas! Put on your masks!
Stop fumbling! Get them on, I don't have to ask!
One man is dying, gone at last.

As I wade through the mush pea clouds,
Men are dead, i trip over bodies in mounds.

I'm standing there, then I see,
A man coughing, dying, the colour of dead trees,
The colour of his soul within me.

Here comes the wagon to pick up my friend.
Dying in pain, he can't mend.
How would you feel if it was you?
Die in pain for you country, people crying for help to.

Would you like to die when no one cares?
All alone in rips and shreds and tears?
Coughing up your guts when the wagon drives across
The head, Her Majesty, doesn't give a toss.

Wrything in agony as the wagon leaves the scene,
Only I can hear the Dead Mans Scream.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

A Glorious Way To Die?

By Becki, 13

We've been fighting here for many months,
Walking through the sludge and mud,
Stomach's growling like a pack of wolves,
Backs bent like shepard's crooks.

Back to the trench we stumble,
To safety and rest that's to come,
Were tired, weary, cold yet grinning like the sun.

Hobbling back like drunken men,
Bare footed to our den,
The mud gets in our blisters and cuts,
And burns our feet like acid.

Suddenly from nowhere a green haze arose,
We all stopped laughing as the fog burnt our nose.

"GAS! GAS! GAS!" I screamed,
"MASKS ON NOW!"

We all panic and drag our masks out our bags,
And put them on with the energy we have left,
I see a man screaming, slowly melting like a candle,
Were Helpless, Scared, Sad as he slowly melts to death.

The gas is like a sea of green,
Its waves engulfing everything,
A man runs towards me,
With the sight of fear in his eyes,
No-one can help him, not even me
And it's killing me inside.

Can you imagine your friend getting tossed in a wagon?,
Watching him scream like a baby,
His lips blue, his eyes red,
Completely surrounded by the dead,
Think of that and imagine it,
It's enough to turn your stomach.

His lungs rotting into waste,
Mucus pouring out of everyplace,
Reaching for help,
As his life slowly drains away.

Isay to you, one and all,
To fight for your country is right,
But it's certainly not "a glorious way to die".

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

A friend who once existed

By Lauren, 13

Hunched back, we decline ourselves from war.
the abysmal display of decomposed corpses.
too much to handle.
a courageous friend who once existed now he lays lifeless; almost as if sleeping,
visualizing that being me makes me nauseous.
rambling through the dissaray, it sooms becomes reality.
Marching the the nearest trench for all tg rest we can get.
Closing our eyes we try to disregard the image beyond us.
Is all this grief worth it; just for the pride of serving for your country?

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Mucus Man

By Kimberley, 14

Coughing. Gasping for breath
We haul our bodies through the mud.
No energy.
Skin and bone; we look like skeletons.
We try to get to safety, to rest, to food, to heat.
We sway; hobble on cut and swollen feet.
So tired we don't realise that there are stolen gas bombs.
I've lost my boots and cut my feet,
I need some food.
I need some sleep.
"GAS! GET DOWN! MASKS!!"
It is hard to put our masks on,
we're so tired.
We manage finally. There is someone who didn't.
He staggers and falls, he can hardly breathe.
The gas clinches us.
We can hardly see through gas the colour of green pea soup.
I will never forget how the comrade looked; he came rushing to me
his face a sickly colour I see.
I feel helpless'
I know he is going to die.
He was thrown into the wagon like a piece of meat.
He screams in agony; blood shot eyes.
Corpse and limbs all around him
Then I fall on the mud sleet.
Do you know how it feels to watch your friend die like that?
He gurgles to breathe,
blood and mucus comes out of his mouth, nose and ears as the wagon goes over bumps
and lumps.
Watching a man die is horrible
but to watch him die like that is worse
all the blood and mucus
eyes rolling in hus head.
Never again will you say it is good to die for your country.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

This is the end

By Katy, 13

In these bloody fields,
I stare straight ahead
I walk in a line
in the land of the dead

each step in silence
each step in fear
each step of wishing
that I wasn't here

here in this moment
my life is a blur
I thinking of my hometown
and dreaming of her

but suddenly growing
a cloud of green gas
I pull on my gas mask
I fall on the grass

I listen around me
but all that I hear
is my good friend Edmund
shrieking in fear

'put on your gas mask!'
one look at his face
I wish he'd have listened
I stare into space

I jump up so fearless
we still need to hide
I`m fine on the outside
but breaking inside

the mud is so moist
and the air is so cold
I really don't want to
but do as I'm told

I run up to base camp
my shoes fall apart
this is not the ending
it's only the start

I leap over barbed wire
step careful for mines
in my head a memory
of when I drank wine

of when I ate grandly
around the warm fire
my children around me
and all I desire

step back to reality
and through no man's land
where shots kill a million
I don't understand

at last I reach base camp
a hole in the ground
they call it the trenches
where I can be found

then suddenly I hear
my sergeant in haste
calls us to the front line
with no time to waste

I know this is bad news
but I must do so
I must do my duty
so now here I go

I leap over sandbags
a gun in my hand
so this is the end now
and through no man's land

I pray to the lord now
my one last second
but nothing can save me
...
this is the end

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Lifeless solider

By Alex, 13

I stared into that brave man's eyes,
I saw a storm of pain,
A memory that's haunting me,
And making me insane.

I'm sure that one more moment,
Of staring through his sould,
Would turn my life from hope and love,
Into a blackened hole.

Though everyday I shoot their troops,
And kill a thousand men,
I wish for peace and harmony,
And live my life again.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

My hero best friend

By Sarah, 13

Standing in the cold,
Mud surrounds my feet,
Rain falls all around,
people scream.
Guns blast.
I breath.

War is nothing but hurt and pain

Men with no shoes;
Cuts show the pain.
White faces like gosts,
Corpses on the ground.
Hungry and cold in pain.

War is nothing but hurt and pain

Seeing friendly light,
But feeling no love.

War is nothing but hurt and pain

"GAS GAS!!!!!"
I hear men shout
Grabbing out masks,
But still we linger on
Lost.Alone.Scared
In the green fog.

War is nothing but hur and pain

Hearing faint screams
"Look behind"
Man on the ground
A best friend, a good pal
Falls to the ground

War is nothing but hurt and pain

A brave man, dead a hero amongst us all!!
I wish I never joined the war

But to them it`s just another man that`s dead!!

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Souless Fighters

By Emily, 13

The Troops and I are hardly alive,
Marching to our death.

We wander back trough the grime,
War ringing in out ears.

The boys and I look more like ghosts,
Pale from lack of strength.
No smiles, no laughter. The things missed most.
We are the souless fighters, wandering bach and forth.

"GAS BOYS! MASKS ON!"

His scream was the first thing I heard,
I turned around around and saw him. The last man.
I ran back, too late, the gas had swallowed him.

We have lost the troop through the fog.
I will stay with him. The dying soul.

He tries to scream, blood is its replacement.
He falls to the earth; his end is near.

The mist clears, I blow my whistle.
The wagon is hear to take him away,
I walk slowly behind the dying lad.
Feeling sick from head to toe, but I walk

How would you feel?

Have you seen the terror of a dying face?

I have.

The pleading?

I have.

The misery?

I have.

A soul leaving the eyes?

I have.

Many innocent lives have been lost in this war.
So would you really say:
"It is honorable to die for your country" ?

We are the souless fighters,
Marching to our death.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Lifeless Soldier

By Alex, 13

Trudging through mud as high as mountains,
Walking, fighting towards rest,
Death?

Days at front line feel more like weeks,
Fleeing back to safety; I am still not safe,
Not safe from flares and bursting shells.

Looking around I see my friends in intensive pain,
There's nothing I can do.
I see helpless men pulling their weight,
Across the freezing mud to safety.

"GAS BOMB!!!!" "SEIZE YOUR MASKS!!!"

Frantically I pull mine over my withered face,
I breathe, I'm safe, I relax.
But then, in the corner of my eye I spot a man.
A man, screaming for his life,
It's too late. The gas attacked his lungs like lion to meeat.

He comes running at full speed,
He clings onto my uniform,
We fall to the floor,
Eyes like firs; They look into mine for help.

How would you feel; death in your reach;
Smell suffocates you?
Look on their innocent faces; they served their country well.

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

©2003-2011 Kids on the Net and the authors        Last revised 09-Jul-2011
Kids on the Net

Return to Top