Poem -
Franck
Like 2 Pin it 1I had stood upon your trench
To see your tired eyes
Of a man whose pride was French
And a grandad that never dies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Flesh and blood he was
Fighting a blood stained day
Night fallen stars 'twas
For a tombstone that marked the way
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just 19 in a hole that stunk
Holding his bayonet still
The tears down old Franck
And an end that can never kill
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each year we remember him
The soldier in the sand
Who fought for an impossible win
In a war of blood and land
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Comments
Holy crap JAI MASTES!!.........this is a GREAT write........ for a person I'm assuming you knew ~ "Franck"?.......... I'm not sure.......I do know that the "Grand Guerre de 1914". Has something to do with an award for a badly disabled war veteran.......... and since it's French..... maybe the war in Canada?....... Hell, I don't know......... but I do know that this is an awesome tribute to a young soldier fighting in the trenches............ your writing sometimes just smacks me right in the face........ and knocks me down......... this is one of those times.........I can almost smell the horrific odors and feel those tears form a very young man wondering what the hell he was doing there.......... I'm curious about the soldier in the sand......... and the war that was impossible to win..........I LOVE writes like this where you learn something about this crazy world of ours.............LOVE THIS brother..........ALL STARS. PINNED............. high fives...........T xo
Made it all up Tony, thank you,
as war kills people.
What more to say, it's a small ode to
a bloody battle where we destroy.
Right now under our noses too.
Your review honours the victims of war
and the PTSD thereafter so thank
uuuuuuu for coming by Jai:)))))
World War II may have been a greater war. But we forget what a meat grinder the battle fields of WWI could be. My grandfather, a Norwegian immigrant, served in the War to end all Wars. The only memory he ever shared, was one that haunted him for the rest of his life. That was having to collect bodies and their various parts and burying them in artillery shell holes.
Your poem honors his memory.
Oh my Kimmy you making me cry
to think of what your grandfather
went through, we in peace know not
of war like the world war; why war!
ThanK you!!!