Thursday, May 10, 2012

Poetry by Connor

Muddy boots, bloody hands.     
     time to rest, 

not time to start my killing quest 

   Sick of bullet scars,

                          just want go home and fix my cars
Uncomfortable sand bags, hurt my head

I want to go home and sleep in my comfy bed

Swarming flies

Feasting on those who die

Dirty from helmet to boots…

no showers, no baths

 just showers of bullets and blood baths

The force of mines blows me back 

A ringing in my ears tells me not to think

Frozen in mid-air… not knowing if I’m alive 

…nothing bothers me anymore

BY Connor.


  1. @ Connor,
    I really liked your poem of life in the trenches, it was amazing I wouldn't be able to write a poem that awesome.You must be a very talented writter. Though it was quite violent and creapy words.

    LOve Lara from berwick fields ps, Australia

  2. WOW, That really is a amzing pice of work. I love how u made it ryham so perfectly! I think that this is the best pice of woek on your whole blog. GREAT job! :D
    From Ashan, Berwick Fields Primary School. :)

  3. Wow you really blew me away with the way you put the text into the post it was amazing.You really know how to write you should be a writter.Where do you get your insperasion from ?
    I hope you can write another post like this I really enjoyed it.

    Madison from Berwick Fields Primary School Australia


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