The Dead Marshes.

by Nov 27, 2011Poetry

I don’t wanna talk to thee.
You canna help me.
I’s just an ol man to you.
You just wanna hear bout a battle.
Bout death.
I canna talk to thee young unes.
I’s just ol man
Who saw too much
Too soon.
I wain’t always old.
I was a chile once,
I was a chile when it happened.
So scared I was.
I kenned I was dyin soon.
Watchin, seeing everything from a tree.
Men gone an fallen.
I saws it all.
The screams as they fallen
Over to the soft ground beneath em.
I sees the pain
When I close my eyes
As they tipped over the edge
Over their horses
Onto the soft ground.
An’ the ground
gots softer an softer
Soft
Like a marsh
As the blood
Flew all round me
And the firm battle ground
Was a red marsh.
A bloody marsh.
A marsh of death.
That’s ‘ow it gots it name.
The dead marshes.
A field of war became a field of death.
You’ve heard my story.
Now get out.

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Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Poetry 5 The Dead Marshes.

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