PLATOON of POPPIES
♦
“Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.”
♦
“Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.”
Mud.
Thick, cloying, seeping.
Consuming, filthy, blanket
binding you as brothers
in mud laden arms.
Bath.
Soap, water, scrub.
Submerged, aching, wallowing
purging you as brothers
in trenches of white.
Search.
Memories, mind, self.
Trapped, engulfed, besieged
chains you as brothers
in images of hell.
Write.
Poetry, prose, horror.
Dredge, expose, release
links you as brothers
in words of truth.
Commemorating the 100th anniversary of the first meeting between Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon at Craiglockhart War Hospital August 1917
The meeting lead to Owen’s haunting ‘war poems’. He was born in Oswestry and lived in my home town of Shrewsbury, England.
‘Poppies for Peace’ Rebecca Pells