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Remembered Today:

The Haunting Memories


Garside
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-The Haunting Memories-

The chilling wind whips over the shadowed plain,

Assailing my ears with the haunting cries,

Of those brave ones who lay slain,

The terrible memories of those who lie alone under a darkening sky.

My thoughts are with those who fought and died,

Upon this scarred place we call Gallipoli,

Eagles shriek under a burning sky,

Remnants of the past, memories littered as far as the eye can see.

Those men were proud brave and true,

A myriad of memories, a haunting melody of those who fought at Gallipoli,

The soldiers of Australia a fierce, bonded crew,

They landed in hell, in boats that rocked and heaved on the boiling blood red sea.

The spirit of the Anzacs, the lingering memory,

Of courage, compassion, mateship, honour,

Our brazen past a chilling remnant, it affected all and me,

Each among those braves Anzacs a courageous mate a friend a cobber.

Legends were made on the shores of Anzac,

To be forever remembered as enduring memories,

A legend a testament to them all,

Men who fought and died in Turkish territories.

Mitch

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-The Beasts Of Gallipoli-

Beasts they were called and beats they were,

The bloated rats, bloody ticks and vicious fleas,

Brought upon us a plague that the doctors were at lose to cure,

The rats feasted on our comrades, who lay rotting on the plains.

The ticks grew fat sucking blood from friends brave and fair,

Their evil brethren the maggots feasted on rotting corpses,

Bringing a repugnant odour which filled the wretched air,

The flies intent on making those poor undeserving soldiers their main courses.

They scurried through the trenches, spreading disease and loathing,

Weakening our morale and tearing at our dejected hearts,

They were the beasts of Gallipoli,

Bleeding dry the comrades being taken sick in the carts.

The flies were all around,

In our food, our drinks, our mouths, our very spirit

Even the strongest fell sick upon that desolate ground,

Nothing in seemed had the slightest merit.

Not kind words, nor laugher or life,

All broken by the Beats of Gallipoli,

Creature’s intent on spreading despair and strife,

Maggots squirming their putrid heads as far as the eye could see.

The Turks did less to us then those beasts at Gallipoli,

Most of us weakened before we even reached the combat,

Our last resort to flea to the boiling sea,

Those beasts, which did seem send by hell itself.

Those creatures of war,

The beasts of Gallipoli

Mitch

Another poem for people to enjoy, or not...

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Mitch, as I said, I am not at all good with poetry, but that said, the images your words conjur up are chilling, ( in the Beasts) and get the message across.

I would have associated rats more with the Western Front, what did you draw on for the Beasts poem?

If you keep studying WW1 at the rate you are, your work will improve with it.

One thing I have learnt from when I used to see all Anzacs as good , brave and true, is that they were like men today, it takes all kinds to make a world.

Your admiration of the men shine through, and so does your schooling in the legend of Anzac.

Spread your reading out a bit more and your work will become deeper as you understand the complexity's of WW1 and the actions of the Australians and New Zealand Corp.

Never give up, your work is very good for one so young, but keep learning all that you can.

You will be amazed at how fascinating the study can be, and how ordinary men, often have the most tremendous stories to tell.

Cheers

Kim

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I mainly drew the beasts from a worksheet we are currently studying in school, but also from "goodbye cobber, god bless you" as for the rats sorry if i was wrong but they seemed to be vicous beasts in any sense.

Mitch

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Well done Mitch - a timely reminder that it wasn't just Johnny Turk they were battling in the trenches of Gallipoli (and Germans on the Western Front) but also the various species of vermin. No aeroguard in those days! :)

ciao,

GAC

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Aye, my sister was the inspiration.

Mitch

You better hope she doesn't log on here anytime soon then mate! :lol:

ciao,

GAC

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She might steal my glory, to bad she only said it in passing and shes practically computer illeterate.

Regards,

Mitch

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Aye, twoud be fun, to be addicted, and fortunatly i am, i can't get enough of books in general, i would read all day if i could, sigh, school gets in the way.

Mitch

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-Manning The Guns-

I was a member of the 3rd Field Guns,

And still remember the first day in the Somme mud,

Staring out across the shell shocked landscape at the waiting Huns,

Thirsting for their stinking blood.

Vengeance was on my mind that day I manned the guns,

I still remember the impact,

The cold touch, the heart which one beat like a resounding drum,

Now bleeding, shredded, cracked.

That fateful day when my cobber Clide,

Was blasted by that ill-fated shell,

The fragmentation arching wide,

His body riddled his blood spattering like a scene out of hell.

Those fiends who took my mate,

Would pay on that day I was manning the guns,

Oh yes, what was left of my heart was flushed with hate,

For those scum, the Huns.

The order was given to open fire,

And I did so with a roar,

My big gun thumped and sent shocks through the mire,

Its impact sending me crashing to the floor.

I was happy at last, as a smile lit up my scarred face, elated,

I was blazing those Germans, blood for blood,

My fury and rage, finally sated,

The day I manned the heavy gun.

Mitch

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As someone who has been known to enter a poem or two I am tempted to propose that Mitch ( and his sister) are banned from entering MGWAT *only joking*

Excellent work Mitch very impressive

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I liked the poems. Books are like an ocean. When you first start out, you need a chart and a compass. Hopefuly you will be provided with those at school. You may also pick up some other knowledge like math and science which may help you to earn enough to buy all those lovely books. ;)

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Hopefully, thanks for all the comments,

appreciated,

Mitch

Here are a couple of non war related poems, sorry, just thought id post them, delete this post if its to off topic.

Into Deaths Cold Embrace

I long for the chill of winter’s icy touch,

To be engulfed in a frosted cloud,

Ice as cold and gleaming as diamonds,

Waiting for that feeling of death and misery to wrap around.

As the frigid beauty of winter and woe engulfs me,

I feel alone and haunted,

Remnants of a shadowed past,

Enclosing me, yet I the murderer am undaunted.

I linger shrouded by the wretched souls flitting through the air,

Of winters chilling powers, of frost of death of hate,

A myriad of cold, inhuman acts cut the heavens like a knife,

A perverted lust, which I cannot sate.

I embrace the feeling of winter of loss,

Letting the howling wraiths circle round,

Suddenly in comes to be hard and fast, I am lost…. Forgotten….

For my lust, my perverted love has taken me to be forever buried under the ground.

The wrathful haunting finally laying my broken essence to rest,

My frail body cracked and broken,

Damned by my tainted love for the hatred and death,

I realise now as I die a troubled death that I have been punished.

My love and perverted passion for fatality and pain,

Has brought me to a shadowed death,

My cursed thoughts to kill and maim,

My final act, the bloody wraith.

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Opression

I long for freedom a chance to escape,

A chance to take revenge,

Alas the time has yet to come and I must labour and bury my seething hate,

Till that moment when I can avenge,

The death of my bride, It shattered my fragile heart,

Now all that is left is a pitiless hole filled with loathing!

All I wish for now is to tear them to shreds part by part,

Yet, I am not ready to take my revenge and must stay waiting!

For I am not strong enough yet,

To throw of the terrible yoke, of slavery and oppression,

Slowly fellow slaves gather around me, their own loved ones wrenched from them by the cruel hands of fate, an unbreakable bond of blood and flesh,

Together we hope to beat down our captors and destroy the final remnants of this filthy domination!

I think back, upon my beautiful wife.

Taken from me, by deaths heartless touch.

She was stunning, no where else in the land was their such a bride,

She was my heart my soul my life, my reason for much.

When I was around her it all went away replaced by my love, the beautiful Song, of harmony and freedom from strife,

The hate the fear the repugnance in the air,

The sounds of whips cracking and slaves groaning all gone,

Replaced by the myriad of blissful emotions emanating from her soul, of love and care.

But that was shattered, broken apart,

Shredded by a terrible being, a phantom of detestation,

The master, the lord, the b*****d,

Who took it all away, my bride resisted, but was no match for his tyranny, his oppression.

He killed her, when she would not surrender herself to him,

I watched them, taking her away,

Tears running haphazardly down my tortured face,

Soaking the scarred earth bellow us.

I saw her flung over the slave compound walls into vast unknown space!

That cursed monster’s love for misery and pain,

Will be his undoing mark my words.

The grief and wretchedness he has wrought upon us broken slaves,

Will be his undoing, I swear by the gods!!

For my love for her has caused a pain,

So great that it sets what’s left of my broken heart alight,

With rage and a passion to finally overthrow and murder my wife’s sadistic killer,

I wish for you, anyone with heart, to rise up against this oppression, aid me in my plight.

Mitch

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Lordy... has your mum read any of these??...

Good stuff, Mitch, but would worry about where such dark imagery sprouts from in one so young...

Do you have Emo's in Oz, and do even they find your craft a touch 'down beat'??!

How about a poem about your boys on the boats steaming away from the peninsular, having successfully pulled off one of they greatest bluffs of the war and feeling rightly pleased with themselves...!

Jim

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Right ill start working on one today, expect it posted by tomorrow, also the topic for those to poems was, err love poems and well i find i simply cannot write those things so well, uhh, i did the opposite and wrote poems of loving misery pain and death, so well ok.

Oh and yeh we have emo's in oz, they hang out at flinders street station and the nearby hungry jacks, its a bit scary really. lol

Mitch

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