Gallipoli Poem Anthology By Michael Lau
Hellfire
It was hellfire.
Johnny Turk wouldn’t stop.
They held us down to the wire.
More and more men dying.
Now the Huns were here - the men were worrying.
Machine guns, shrapnel.
A trooper buried by a disastrous shell.
We died by hundreds, Turks dying by hundreds.
Morale low, supplies low, Winter now upon us.
My sentry frozen to death still with rifles in hand.
My trench a running stream.
Men falling around me.
Oh, what a horrific scene!
What happened in Britain, is what we don’t know.
KItchener came. The rumors that spread
That the Army’s hands deliver us from
The hell-firing enemy that left us dead.
The order was given. Evacuation.
As we slept, we worked. In our bed,
My mate left a message that read,
Please take care of the Anzac dead.
I left a booby trap that involved my grenades
While my belongings all decayed.
There were people who died hard.
Some Diehards were picked to evacuate last,
To end this horrific, horrendous horror
And as we left - a mine - exploded with a blast!
Munitions buried or thrown into the lake.
The Turks fired on us, but they were too late.
The feeling that you get when fate secures fate.
We had left Hell’s Peninsula - ran from hellfire.
By Michael Lau
Birdwood’s heard
Birdwood’s heard
Qualities unheard
On any other Earth.
Birdwood’s heard
The deadly duty
The men carry before thee.
Birdwood’s heard
Gallipoli’s tales
Told in vain.
Birdwood’s said
We all must quit
This duty is unfit.
Bidrwood’s heard
Approval of evacuation
Hamilton’s abdication.
Birdwood’s left
Hell on Earth
Gallipoli Peninsula.
Birdwood’s heard
Tales unheard
In Flanders, Belgium.
By Michael Lau
Dead
Explosion filled my eyes with grit
And charged when fear overtook us.
The trench was gone of men.
But there was dead.
Dead, dead, dead
Several dead deep.
Insanely ordered us to charge, Ataturk did.
The next pit a running stream.
Enemy bullets.
Delivered from hell.
Flew by my head.
Fired back and watched them retreat.
Found deadly traps like the dead they were.
We found messages left in trenches.
These hell-fighters weren’t cruel.
They were blokes like us, yet
Their commanders were the real evil.
The commanders killed my friends.
On the beach. Saw the last ships retreat.
A cross to Ataturk that read:
Dear Ataturk,
Gallipoli is now a land of hell.
A peninsula of bodies, craters, blood and bones.
Apologies for ruining this little bit of land.
But, I beg you, please let the dead rest in peace.
Don’t mistreat them like we Anzacs did.
We abandoned our sons of Australia and New Zealand.
Please take care of your new sons.
Signed,
Lt. Gen. Birdwood.
It was insane what the officials did.
Abandoned the dead and left our land.
As I walked back
A mine laid by our insane leaders.
I will never follow them again.
If I ever get the chance.
By Michael Lau
A found Poem by Michael Lau
That was my first day of war, I was wounded, off to the right of the machine gun crew, fire at the turks shooting at me, bullets were zipping above, better get out of it.
Ground just ahead, A sniper. As I, Bang I was hit in the chest would die Lord’s prayer be alive.
What saved me was my identity disc, mI had earlier taken off my neck and slipped it into my tunic pocket, bullet struck quarter of an inch below my heart, it was deflected, I crawled bleeding and found two New Zealanders who didn’t know where or who was in charge of them.
Into a sheltered gully my wounds were dressed towed out to sea by a pinnace stopped at two troop ships Can you take more wounded aboard? They couldn’t. Eventually we arrived at a ship which had some space. 600 wounded aboard the boat, 2 doctors, no nurses, no medical orderlies,
Blood was trickling still alive. one didn’t consider death we were young. lost all my friends, they were going to die, I imagine.
COMBINED POEM - Found by Tanish, Meggy, Liam:
They lifted me down into a sheltered gully my wounds were dressed a ship which had some space came. My stretcher was wenched up, lowered through a forward hatch onto the deck below. 600 wounded, two doctors, no nurses and no medical orderlies.
What saved me was my identity disc.
High velocity bullet struck about a quarter of an inch below my heart.Deflected by the disc.It entered my abdomin.I crawled bleeding along a Turkish track and found two New Zealanders who didn’t know where they were.
There was a dip just ahead a sniper had a line on me as I jumped to my feet bam! I was hit in the chest. I thought if I say the lords prayer very quickly passport to heaven I suppose but I still seemed to be alive.
Blood was trickling consider death we were young i lost all my friends to die imagine
War, wounded attacking certainly shooting bullets were zipping I had better get out.
Valley of Hope
By Meggy
We all smoke
we talk in low voices
outside our trench,
a flash goes
followed with a
huge bang
followed by one
falling
backwards in pain
shot
moaning
hands covering chest,
he was dead,
and I never knew his name.
Devastating Regret
Utter pain
utter regret
coursed through my heart,
My mind only thinking
of regret,
“Why did I shoot him?”
“What was I thinking?”
I broke a life
and a Family
I will never be Forgiven
The Sacrificing Life
We run,
men falling
down,
dead
all around me,
I keep running,
Trying to
resist bending down
at my friend,
my best friend,
shot
dead
on the muddy ground,
my pal next to me,
I met him the first week of training,
as I see the opponent aim for him,
I dive in front of him
The pain strikes me,
I collapsed to the ground,
He bends down,
he kisses me on the forehead.
A found poem by Marek,Renee,Saskia,Pupea and Luke.
Identity disc, bullet struck,
An inch below my heart,
Deflected by the disc,
Bleeding,
Along a Turkish track,
Who was in charge of them,
Blood was trickling,
Still alive,
Until wounded,
One didn’t consider death,
One was liable to die at any time,
I lost all my friends,
They were going to die,
there was a dip in the ground just ahead,
A sniper must have had a line on me,
I was hit in the chest,
But in the limbs one would die,
But i still seemed to be alive,
They lifted me down,
After a while,
Stretcher bearers picked me up,
Carried,
Aboard a barge,
Out to sea,
We stopped,
Can you take more wounded aboard,
They couldn’t,
600 wounded,
Two doctors no nurses no medical orderlies,
First day of war,
I was wounded,
Of the machine gun crew,
Fire,
Attacking in short rushes,
Whether i hit them,
Bullets were zipping above my head.
Frosty’s Poem:
I see soldiers around me putting up their hands just to get blown off so they can go home again. I turn around and see the poppies rusle I feel lost and wasted. I look closely into them oh no its a machine gun barrel I am so scared I can hardly breath. I avoid a few bullets but no its too late for me. I can see the darkness as it descends down over my eyes. I lose control as the bullets take over and hollows out my mind. But now I am just hoping they can please get to me. But sometimes hope is hopeless.
Anzac Poem
Shrapnel fell,
like deadly rain
Threatening roars,
echoed throughout
the gorge
Regret,
Chorus of screams,
rippled up the valley
Blood drained sky
opening the day
Devastation coursed
through my veins
But really,
why?
By Ella W
Mani’s Anthology of Anzac Poetry
FOUR WORDS DEFINE A MAN
Inspiration
Compassion
Reconciliation
Empathy
TURKS FORGAVE
Nineteen years on,
He is a vivid memory
Standing in silence
As dawn shadowed
Down my cheek, a gentle tear runs
Turks forgave, we will forgive
God bless this man.
LEADER AT HEART
I wish for more leaders
You pray for more leaders
We plead for more leaders
God tries for more leaders
Seek inside, for you are your own leader at heart.
ACCEPTANCE
Suffered
Defining sounds, still vivid
The drop of his head
As I stay in pain
Opening sky, as heaven accepted him
HOPE
Half of us johnnies don’t even know why we’re fighting
Every single soul that is lost
I feel my hope drowns a little more
Summers end is near
But the sun still burns
The smell makes the pain even worse
Every day I pray and hope to survive
JUST IMAGINE
How much blood was spilt
Could it fill a creek
A river
A lake
Even an ocean
Just imagine
Is the blood of an Anzac just the same as a Turks?
Is it the same colour?
Does it serve the same purpose?
Just imagine
Is the after life of blood the same
Does it dry the same?
Does it smell the same?
Just imagine
Gallipoli Reflection
Summers here,
no one has the energy to fight, it's hot
no one has the energy to fight, it's hot
everyone's parched, been out of water for days
There's a stench of rotting corpses, dirt, blood and sweat
lots of the men are ill from the fumes.
There's a stench of rotting corpses, dirt, blood and sweat
lots of the men are ill from the fumes.
Autumn has begun, leaves are starting to cover dead bodies
and some of the plants are giving off terrible diseases,
food levels are getting lower and so are some of the medical supplies.
food levels are getting lower and so are some of the medical supplies.
Winter's here the temperature has dropped, its the worst season yet.
Lots of the men have gotten bad frostbites in their wounds and bad chills, we are running out of men to fight.
Britain needs to send soldiers I don't know how we are going to cope.
Night falls, spring has arrived,
not a single explosion tonight,
scared,
I want my family,
my heart aches thinking about them
Its lonely in the trench,
hope I survive this mess.
By Chloe
Tanish’s Poems:
1. The final night of the evacuation
Diehards providing cover
Time for my group
walking along the marked path
on the steamboat
Leaving our dead friends
One turk fired
The mine at the nek
was detonated
The last thing I saw
Gallipoli
2. It’s the final night
My officer said
“Time to leave this deadrock for the last time lads”
diehards still holding the line
Walking past dead friends
sorrow filling my heart
we got on to the last boat
he diehards came
The mine at the Nek was detonated
the turks attacked
One turk did a fluke and hit me on the shoulder
I fell overboard
dying,drowning
the last thing I saw
first and last
coming and going
I saw….
Gallipoli
3. The final night arrived
the moment arrived
The commanding officer said
“Time to leave this hell of a dead rock for the last time lads”
the diehards still holding
I steal myself a last glance as I
walk down to the boarding ramp
the biggest AZAC mine
detonated at the Nek
Turkish attack
the stumbled into the trenches
held only by the dead
One shot fired
hit me
Hard
in the shoulder
I stumbled
fell overboard
by the impact
flailing, drowning,dying
numb in the cold
by last sight
first and last
coming and going
Gallipoli
the home of the dead
We will remember them, lest we forget.
By Tanish
Hope’s Battle
(p.t 1) I sit I wait I pray Tomorrow will be different
Tomorrow I may not see my mates
Tomorrow I may not come home
This could be… Hopes Grave
(p.t 2) I cheer I'm confident I feel good
Tomorrow the Australians will get the job done
Tomorrow we’ll be successful
Tomorrow Chunuk Bair’s ours
This could be…. Hopes History
By Vaitoa
My Sacrifice.
In the trenches flies swarm over a lifeless arm detached from its body. Shrapnel blast into the head of a fellow soldier he dips his head as he lets out his last breath
Commanding officers tell snipers to shoot turkish Generals. Grass whistles. Trees creak and sway. Dead bodies float in the water below. The fighting will never stop.
War is never a good thing. Death in battle is supposed to be the bravest way to die, they tricked us they said we weren't going to die I raise my hand and it’s been shot that’s my ticket home.
By Zachary
I read through the Anzac poems last night and was very moved by your emotional and heartfelt words. Nice work Kahikatea!
ReplyDeleteAnne
Thanks Anne, you are our very first commenter and we really value your feedback!
DeleteVery profound. I loved them all!
ReplyDelete