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Ash on the Wings of Autumn

Beginning on October 19th, 1914, one of the bloodiest battles of World War One was fought near Ypres in Belgium. This poem, while written from a young German soldier’s point of view, is a tribute to all those who lost their lives during that terrible forty days.

Crisp the autumn breeze that combs this foggy air,
Slowly creeping through these Belgian fields;
A bitter breath of coming winter, we taste the morning dew
Whose frosty edge foretells harsh winter’s yields.

Short months ago, we studied French in Hamburg
And now we wait to kill the blue-coat foe;
Our great Kaiser called to fill his grey-green army,
And we who answered soon shall be death’s blow!

Whispered calls for orders now stir our muddy ranks,
Whose listless banners rise with anticipation;
The average age a mere eighteen, we hunger for this fight
Our youth a grim conductor to damnation!

Crisp the autumn breeze that combs this foggy air,
Yet tinged with burning cordite and falling ash;
A bitter breath of eternal winter, we scream in bloody fields
Whose loam lies scarred by war’s unending gash!

Forty days of hell on earth, this battle for the Ypres
Just one in three will taste first winter’s snow!
A massacre of the innocents, a generation lost at war
We lived and died where Flanders’ poppies grow.

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very powerful and saddening, how could we ever know how those boys really felt when asked to climb out of those trenches. You have tried to depict this in this powerful poem, though i think this poem good. I fear mere words could not fully portray their feelings. Good poem. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

What the hell was great about it, the war that would end all wars.
They forgot to take man out of the equation, not the poor cannon fodder that ran in ditches for years (They called them Trenches).
We still live as then the cannon fodder to make sure the new yacht slips silently down the slipway, to be a toy for those that keep the cannon fodder on the Monkey's cast iron rack.
I hate war it destroys our young, let those that say we will go to war for this and that, Let them go and fight, then we can keep our young people to build our nation strong.
It's nearly Sunday and my little box is aching for my feet to press it to the Earth,
Yours Sparrow

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

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