One century ago the First World War ended.
We will never forget.
Yet they are gone.
We see them in the shadows
We hear them in the silence
We feel them in our hearts
We hold them in our memories
We respect what they fought for
We are sad they did not live on
We are eternally grateful to the many and all.
We are here, yet they are gone.
– Kevin O’Reilly, November 2018.
My war poem
I sit here with sweat running down my face
And my heart beating at a steady pace
As Germans carry on savagely firing
While at home they’re taking boys for hiring
My boots are frozen, the mud’s like ice
And when I get a chance to rest the dug-out’s full of mice.
All we’re living off is water and bread
Most of my friends lay there dead
I want to feel as though the end is near
My hopes are shattered – it’s only been a year
I longed to join and not be a coward
I wasn’t to know it would be months till I showered
I stood there waiting in the crowd
My Mum waving delightfully proud
After four years of painful war
My bones are aching, my head is sore
We’re finally released to go back home
I’m excited to wash and I have my hair to comb
As I slowly grow grey and old
I pass down my story I happily told
I hear of a place where my friends rest
In consequence of them being quickly put to the test
They all lay peacefully row on row
Listening to the birds and the fast wind blow
I visit the white head stone of my friend ‘Hoppy’
I shed a tear for a moment
then I remember the rush of when the war was over
and seeing our first poppy.
– Sophie O’Reilly, 2008.