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| Open Poetry #16 |
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eastern front |
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Hollowman Member
since 2001-06-01
Posts 117 |
The year was 1942 I read the last letter from you In the sodden trench where I sat I removed my gloves, I doffed my hat The crackels and pops I hear every night no longer hold that evil fright my link with home, your words so kind thank god I have not yet gone blind I miss you dearly, I miss holding your hand soon my love, its time for no mans land where the guns are waiting, they will not stop I have to face this when going over the top So off I will go my love onto the battlefield of this war so long I will prey I live through this human wrong I'll be with you soon, so sleep well at night remeber my words, if I fall in flight. Richy |
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| © Copyright 2001 Richard Pardoe - All Rights Reserved | |||
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The Rusty Knight Member
since 2001-08-29
Posts 414Texas |
That was so many years ago....but so many still remember it like it was yesterday....my father-in -law a normandy vet says you are never as a live as when you are so close to death. Death comes not when we cease to breathe, but when we cease to dream. |
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angelswing Senior Member
since 2000-02-10
Posts 705United Kingdom |
Brilliant, I love the way that you have inclueded the death/life situation in this so well . Thanks . L.of.L. Tom . 'There is only a very thin line between genius and insanity, this is measured only on sucess; I am proud to be considered an under-achieving genius'. |
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illusion Member
since 2001-06-19
Posts 296 |
I like this a lot - it reminds me of stories my dad tells about writing to my mother.  |
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