Attack Comments
AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun
In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun,
Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud
The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one,
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hen, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire. Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear, They leave their trenches.........O Jesus make it stop. a fine poen´m. war, pain, fear, suffeirng, faced with death........ tony
aaaaaaaaaaammmmmaaaaazzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg! ! ! ! ! ! !
just because you don't agree with them doesn't make their opinions invalid...
the ignorance is startling. wether you like the poem or not, please do not feel the need to express your opinion on someone else's trauma or experience.
This is about as close to feeling what trench warfare is like as I would ever wish to get; the second half of the final line stops you dead in your tracks.
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7/18/2025 10:30:25 PM # 1.0.0
Then, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire. experience, sadness, terror. tony