World War One Poetry

As I mentioned in my first post, I am attempting to write poetry, I have joined a group of people that are trying to put together an anthology of poems about the World War One bombing of Hartlepool, a small town on the North East coast of England. On December 16th 1914, the town was bombarded by the German Navy for around an hour, with over 1000 shells being fired into the town. Here are a couple of poems I have written.

 The Christmas Hour

One solitary hour, stood alone like a stranger in a crowd.
 The seconds ticking a regular clanging boom,
 as it moves unerringly through its perpetual motion,
 it offers misery and hope.

Each accurate strike tells the story of men, women and children,
 whose lives were ended by each quarterly chime.
 It brings together communities, like a net gathering fish,
 and rebuilds all that it has destroyed.

It drags the sun across the skies, wiping away the smoke and fire,
 then this stranger moves on, never to be seen again,
 replaced by another stranger with a different purpose,
 to offer peace and goodwill to all.

One single, tiny hour can shape an entire world.
 It holds memories, like a child holds a balloon.
 Bringing new life and taking away the sick.
 Always following the same path away from us.

 The Swarm

In the distance they waited on their ships,
 one thousand strong, huddled together waiting to strike.
 The order came and like wasps they swarmed across the sea.
 The streets, just beginning to wake,
 were met by the stomping of the incoming throng.
 No polite knock to come in, but an uninvited crunch,
 as doors, walls and windows were violently wrenched open.
 Families hid under beds, pretending not to be home,
 as a single, giant hob nail boot wreaked havoc on their belongings.
 No longer just the welcoming, recently lit, coal fire in the hearth,
 but countless vicious little flames licking at the edges of the splintered furniture.
 The smell of burnt nail varnish remover filled the air,
 but there was no pretty girl applying makeup in the shattered mirror,
 instead the faces were frightened, streaked with tears and blood.
 The thousand had arrived, bullied and destroyed but never returned to their ships.