Different Eyes By: Caroline Stewart

Okay so I wanted to start my first post with an original poem. My dream is to one day publish a book filled with poetry. I feel like good classical poetry is one thing that's slipping away. I want to be the first successful modern poet. (Along with my career of teaching high school English). So I wrote this poem on WWI. It was an assignment but I really put my heart into it... instead of doing the minimum of required work like I normally would. Anyways I tried to encompass a lot of the aspects on WWI in this poem, the gas, the misconceptions of the war from the old men sitting at home, and mainly the utter pointlessness of the war. The lines,

"But, no he’s fighting for a purpose, his country,

fighting for honor, nation’s pride, and dignity." shows the nationalism that led many soldiers during this war. In the poem I also discuss how the war seems never ending. I give my friend Becca Murdoch credit to the title...it was pretty clever! Hope you enjoy!

Different Eyes

“Onward, Onward!” they cry,

yet who are they to say?

They see not the trenches where we lie,

They see not the blood and fire,

They see not men ripped by barbed wire.

And as endless moon meets a never-ending day,

Old men sit back and judge us in dismay.

They do not know, they do not know,

How it feels watching eyes glaze over, friend or foe,

They do not know the never ending uncertainty,

on whether or not we’ll return to family.

Beautiful land once called home,

But countries, like ravaged dogs,

at their mouths did foam.

Brutal gases, unanticipated fogs,

and inch by inch we crawl,

hoping this bloody war will end for all.

Love, love, please return,

Please assure me of this,

You will not break or burn.

Please avow me this,

That if indeed guns do hiss,

Please assure me you will live in perfect bliss.

That you will feel minimum pain,

that your life will mean a greater gain.

Yet I feel so, so alone,

Yet if for our country your blood would atone,

I would have a sense of peace.

Oh, if this war would just cease.

“Daddy, daddy,” please come back,

yet who is the man she calls dad?

Only letters yellowed by age in a stack,

tells her of what she’s never had.

But, no he’s fighting for a purpose, his country,

fighting for honor, nation’s pride, and dignity.

Yet does honor mean the loss of many a life,

Does pride mean causing unnecessary strife?

Does a four year old girl with bright blue eyes,

Losing her dad she never knew,

Does that seem fair to you?

No this belief in honor, dignity, and pride,

Is just one of Europe’s lies.

Smoke-filled, gray skies,

Maggots, vermin, ungodly flies,

Surround my every day mind,

I go a bit mad, I find.

The western battlefield aglow,

the cannons behind us began to blow.

Another endless night leads into a never ending day,

The divine being above, on his remote, hits replay.