The Battle of Verdun

On the 21st February 1916 a bombardment of the city of Verdun started The Battle of Verdun, one of the largest and bloodiest battles of World War One.

The Battle of Verdun 1916

The mud, the mud, the stinking mud
that held them fast, sucked out their souls
The mud, the mud, the blood-soaked mud
between the hills. Both armies’ goals.
The stench, the stench, of rain-filled trench
The burrows underground
The squash, the squish of rotting flesh
as arms and legs were found.
The noise, the noise, no escape boys
from the whine and thud of shell
“What did you do in the war?”
“I fought and lived in hell.”
“Fight for the ridge! Fight for the hill!
It’s where we’ll see them best!”
Flattened the ridge, flattened the hill
O’er buried soldiers gone to rest.
Villages gone to tank and gun
Left – a bloodied battleground.
Forests - all trees gone, every one.
Then eerie silence – not a sound.

Now the rolling hills are green again
The fields are lush with growth
New forests house the birds again,
happy to play host
In this calm and peaceful scene
when you hear their joyous song
Sometimes, carried on the breeze,
joining in – a ghostly throng
As their voices rise from the well-kept graves
and from the blood-soaked earth
Thousands of voices, now in harmony, sing
“This is what our deaths were worth.”

© Ida Jones

Three Winter poems...

black dog

the black dog growls
raises his head in my direction
I stare back with baleful eye
some visitors are more welcome
than others

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when

when the hound
makes a meal of hope
collect the crumbs
create a new dish
to feed the soul

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gunmetal days

these grey-gunmetal days
washed by winter rain
which tinge old-man’s-beard
a luminescent green

when wind-whipped snow
piles high against the verge
and bare trees glitter
with a frosty rime

this time of chill damp
which seeps into the bones
wind moans through cracks
or howls against the stones

while I, in semi-hibernation,
yearn for spring’s elation,
will not then mourn the passing
of gunmetal days

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