Friday, 8 April 2016

ANZAC Dulce et decorum est

For writing we have bee reconstructing a poem following the structure of Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilford Owen.
Miss Hooper read us instructions and we constructed our poem about ANZAC and the war

Here is my poem:

The Soldier's tale
We have been here for months now, getting quite sick, all coughing, our legs in pain.
There is mud everywhere, men wounded by gunshots,     
Right at the frontline trying to get back to safety boom boom guns fire.
I get behind to the civilized side of the war, I can now rest, I leave all the flares and cannons,
Men too exhausted to think so many men have no boots with cuts on their feet.
It is agony to walk men moving like they are drunk,
They are all too weakened  and have torn clothes
Most men are unfortunate and don’t hear the gas shells dropping behind them.

Gas gas! Hurry up and put your masks on.
It's a shambles I don’t know if I have enough time to get this awkward thing on
A man is shouting he has been too slow, the gas gets into his lungs.
He is stumbling around like a made man
The gas is thick now.  It is a greenish color.
I look around all I can see is a big green gastly cloud of gas.

My comrade comes running up to me. He has no mask. Gas is getting into his lungs
He is coughing horribly I am helpless I want to help. I know he is going to die.

His face is going really gray. We carry him to the wagon, I put him on
We walk behind the wagon as he twists and turns in pain.
It is awful he is going white, his head is rolling freely
His eyes are rolling, he is slowly dying in agonizing pain
Every bump it gets worse,
The blood is gurgling in his lungs,
All the mucus is coming up from his inside,
The sound is the worst in the world. One You Never want to here
If you experienced this first hand like me,
You could never say that it is glorious to die for you contory.
These things that I have described to you,

I have to live with for the rest of my life.


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