A poem about World War One, when wars were fought by trench warfare. Soldiers shot and hid in big tunnels that were dug to shelter themselves from bullets and other dangers. However soldiers were then faced with rats, disease, and still were not protected from bombs or muster gas. For those of you who dont know, the phrase "No Mans land" refers to the land between the two fighting trenches. Soldiers tried to overwhelm the enemy by taking over the no mans land and then taking over the opposing trench. Soldiers had a higher possibility of being shot and wounded while on "No mans Land".
No Mans Land
In the trenches, someone is shot,
Will he get a proper burial? I think not.
Now, the mustard gas flows in,
discouraging thoughts prevents a win.
“Over the top” our commander calls,
A bullet whizzes past, and another man falls.
We climb over the trench into “No Man’s Land”,
A bomb explodes by, and someone loses their hand,
As he falls down with pain, into the sand.
Every explosion feels like a direct hit,
As the medics arrive with their kit,
I bet they too, wish this war would quit…
When the war was over, all seemed well,
as I started to walk, I tripped and fell,
When I looked down, I was mad you could tell.
Because all that was there was a wooden leg,
That I had before I stepped into “No Man’s Land”….
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