A poem I wrote for school a while ago after visiting Ypres in Belgium.
Tyne Cot, Tyne Cot, oh what a saddening sight to have seen.
I wonder what the field would be like if the World War hadn’t have been.
Would the fields be filled with flowers and not the marble graves?
Would those who fought be happy men, and not the Army’s knaves?
The mass amount of graves you see is just a terrible sight.
Just think about those men out there, just think about the fright.
The men who went and suffered, the men who fought the war,
The sights they must have seen, the sights of blood and gore.
Langemarck, Langemarck, oh what a haunting venue.
The Belgians didn’t give much land, so what can you really do?
The mass amount of bodies beneath your feet,
The trip to this place sure isn’t a treat.
Essex Farm, Essex Farm, oh what a sad place to be.
One thousand two hundred Brits dead, right under me.
Some people such as Joe Strudwick, died at a very young age.
And if you ask me, that’s just a total outrage.
The thousands of poppies you can see for miles, just lying on the ground.
Just blowing in the wind, peacefully and calmly, not making a sound.
The sheer terror these poor soldiers must have faced,
In the mud of the trenches, the soldiers were totally encased.
We will never forget those who braved their souls,
In those filthy trenches, those dirty death holes.
The many soldiers who passed away,
Will still be remembered to this very day.