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RUNNER-UP

Flashbacks – By Emily Armatage, 15

Bradford Academy

Flashbacks – of images inside my head
Harsh words remind me of the dead
War left me a survivor
A survivor filled with guilt and never ending dread – Flashbacks.

Taken from my home and thrown into the trenches
The air filled with the most revolting stenches
Laying in the dirt
I’d try to start alert
Bombs explode, fire and debris fly
And many soldiers were taken to the sky – Flashbacks.

My General spits and shouts orders in the torrential rain
My fellow friends and soldiers screaming in extreme, unimaginable pain
I rose, cradling the gun
As an enemy stood before me, transfixed, unable to run – Flashbacks.

I cannot even begin to write the rest
The horrors endured shall never be written in text
50 years later, the memories are still there
War still alive, chances of survival forever unfair
Each memory as vivid as ever
Pulling me towards the end of my tether- Flashbacks.

I feel sorrow and regret almost every day
And no poppy I wear or thought I bear
Can add up to the price I must pay
They were my first kills and my last
Unescapable beings from my past
Sincerest apologies can’t begin to convey my sorrow for their families and friends
While I survive the war that never ends
In my head – Flashbacks

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By Tanzeela Bibi, 15

Belle Vue Girls' School

Oh then I remember my motherland
The day I wore its uniform
Kissing me my mother said
Don’t ever let your fear spread

She gave me birth for my motherland
She gave me birth for my motherland

When it was time to fight
I remembered my mother's words
Present your blood with love
But don't ever give up

She gave me birth for my motherland
She gave me birth for my motherland

In the cold and dull trenches
My fear grew weaker
But then I saw the red poppies
Which looked like the soldiers copies

She gave me birth for my motherland
She gave me birth for my motherland

Oh then again I remembered my motherland
the day I wore its uniform kissing me
my mother said don't ever...ever let your fear spread

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By Lauren Brown, 16

Appleton Academy

The poppy tells a tale
Of those who set assail
To fight in the Great (or not so) War.
Guns, ships, weapons galore!
Men left their families at home
Our heroes ventured to fight alone.
Of course, they had one another
Another man, soon became their brother
But eventually their blood would be shed and the Poppy bleeds the colour red.
The assassination of dear Franz Ferdinand, led to mass destruction of lives and land.
These men who fought, did a great deal
They protected us, our barrier of steel.
They put their lives on the line,
To protect yours, ours, mine.
Such courage, bravery, so bold
Our heroes had hearts of gold.
Finally it came to the end of the line, Allies decided it was time to sign.
Each poppy seed is a man who fought
And now in history we are taught,
Of how we should never forget
Those heroes to who we owe our debt
We wear the Poppy to remember,
Armistice Day, 11th November.

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RUNNER-UP

Who am I? – By Hassan Chowdhury, 15

Bradford Grammar School

He lay there battered, bruised and bloody,
Knowing that death was close.
“Who am I?” he wondered...

The poppies blossomed and in response they said:
You are a solider
You’re fearless and you’re fine,

You fight for your country and you’re always on the front line.
You’re inspiring and courageous and always keep your family in mind
But mostly you’re a hero who’s always so kind.

It was peaceful and quiet
As he stared with amazement and awe,
God gave him his hand and took him with a soar.

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RUNNER-UP

Soldiers – By Damien Colton, 15

Appleton Academy

You required our skills, you had us sit like dogs wearing our tags.
Now we’re lying on the cold heart ground with blood dripping from our skulls.
Slowly but surely you’re turning our cogs and pushing us opposite to north, we have no guidance.
Truth be known we are scared, we’re 15 16 whatever you still lied to us.
Where’s our fun, where’s the glory that you promised, where’s our once upon a time gone.
Paint my veins blue and colour my poppies red from my own silk blood that drips to the heart beat of me.
To throw away the only thing I had, family and love, to throw my only grenade at my unknowing enemies.
Does this make me a good man, Val shall not murder, but I murdered him and him and him, I am the demon from hell unfortunately.
We live, if we live to tell the tale of how we all fell down with epic fail.
We come out to tell the tail,
Dead or alive, the war still lingers in our eyes,
You said homes around the corner but it’s not,
Death and war is around the corner,
One step, two step watch our grenade, who’s the guy with the blade, why’s his throat growing poppies.
Bang, bang two step, one step we all fall down and hit the ground.
Send my mother; send my father the yellow card that has my name written over it,
My tear drops are not scattered across war and my blood’s painting the picture in your hearts.
War is over, get ready for number 2
One step two step we all fall down.

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Farewell Britannia – by Sean Conway, 15

Beckfoot School

Farewell Britannia
Hope I see you again.
Farewell Yorkshire,
I remember when.

Getting off the boat in France,
To see what is my fate,
Now two years on we’re in a trance,
Shoot whatever is in our face.

The general sent us out to fight,
That was the death of us.
1916 I am in flight,
To heaven above us.

Farewell Yorkshire,
I remember when.
Farewell Britannia
I’ll never see you again

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Rhys – By Morwena Evans, 15

Saltaire, Bradford

I am a soldier think of me
I am a warrior think of me
When you feel the earth under your feet think of me
When you touch the soft red silk of the poppies that grow in the fields of the Somme, of the dead, think of me.
When you feel the soft wind caressing your face think of me.
While I am gone think of our forever think of me.
When you see the rain falling from the stars think of me.
When you cry so hard with so much hurt that the tears are rolling down your face think of me.
When you are alone think of me.
When you are happy think of me.
When you are sad think of me.
When you are hurt think of me.
For through all these things I love you.
Through all these things I am here,
Forever.
And one day I will come home.

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As I Stand Upon The Hill – Emily Holden, 15

Bingley, Bradford

As I stand upon the hill
The earth starts to rumble
All I can hear are screams of pain
As towns begin to crumble

As I stand upon the hill
My heart starts pounding hard
The gunfire rages all around me
And all I see are trees, burned and charred

As I stand upon the hill
The smell of death in the air
I see the fear stricken faces of my soldiers
As the gunfire roars like a bear

As I stand upon the hill
The chaos of war around me
I looked up at the black sky and said to myself
‘I hope today is not the day I die’

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There is always hope in the darkest hour – By Ryan Hustler, 15

Woodhouse Grove School

And their day in the trenches, so cold, so hungry and so homesick.
I’m surrounded by my fellow soldiers but I feel so alone.
The dreaded smell of rotten flesh and some of these soldiers I have known for a while.
It seems like the nightmare never ends.

The next morning the sun shines and I move at peace again,
We are all brothers in arms and we look out for each other,
We will keep fighting till the bitter end.
The people back at home are depending on us to keep them safe.

The end is here I can feel it in the air.
This gives us the strength to keep fighting for another day.
If it was for all of the scarifies none of us would have made it this far.
Surely we will never have to go through a war such as this again?

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So I Can Remember You – By Elizabeth Jones, 15

Beckfoot School

Thoughts scribbled in my mind
Are written on my skin
Like the traces of your touch
That linger in my memories
Your voice a melody
Stuck in my mind.

But then
Wait
The traces are gone
Memories are broken
And the melody is out of tune
I hate

That I can’t remember;
I hate that you left me.
Like a broken glass
I’m shattered.

And I can’t be fixed because
You’re gone,
Because you were taken from me,
Taken by pride for your country.

The war stole our husbands, our fathers, our sons.
It stole our sisters, mothers and wives
And we can’t get them back.

We have to remember them through
The breeze of the wind,
The scent of the flowers

And the rain that falls
Like they once fell 100 years ago.

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By Hina Khan, 15

Barkerend, Bradford

Bang, Bang, Bang, the big guns fire,
People run to flee the doom,
Why have we fallen into this quagmire?
Who was listening to the devils whispers?
Starting war, causing so much disaster,
Instead of following true faith,
He follows the orders of an evil master.
Trenches fill with flooded water,
Filled with bodies of dying soldiers,
There cries are slowly dying out,
Weakened, unable to cry and shout,
Filled with rotting flesh, you can smell the stench of death.
Gun fire reflecting light of red poppies,
Of the eyes of people watching.
At least they cannot take away our faith,
We will always be the lord, servants, marching,
But hope there is, for truly faithful men,
At last the war is over then,
Victory is only for the brave,
we are no-one’s servants, only God’s slaves.

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Living With WW1 – By Lucy Lawrence, 15

Beckfoot School

Clouds redder the skies,
Yet in my corrupt mind,
All I hear are strangled cries,
To all but death I am blind.

I’m awoken by the gun fire,
Yet some never woke,
The situation grew dire,
In my mind it will remain,
Forever seen, never spoke.

Hath god evoked this death?
Hath god forsaken life?

I’m embraced by the cold,
His tendrils slither up my spine,
Upon my heart he will always hold,
For war regards not time.

I am still a soldier,
Life is the battlefield,
I’m searching for closure,
I’ll never truly be healed.

But forever I will try,
To make peace,
with war.

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By Leah McPherson, 15

Woodhouse Grove School

Ready to kill,
Comes in a cloud,
As it climbs up the hill.

I can’t breathe.
I’m going to die.
These are my last words.
I’m saying goodbye.

Remember me by all the poppies so red,
Remember us all.
Remember the dead.

Now I lie beneath the ground.
I gave my life for these people around.
A white marble stone above my head.
Icing my peaceful, soil bed.

I now look down,

Oh my name they have found.
A cross goes down,
My fears are drowned.

A name of stone,
Is that all that’s shown?
Of a person so brave,
A heart too big.
Courageous soul.

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RUNNER-UP

The Voices Of The Dead – Aruba Mohammed, 15

Belle Vue Girls’ School

Walking in the park I can’t help but remember what my grandfather said to me
I look around and all I can see
Is what I imagined when he told me the story
Of a long forgotten past… nothing but a memory

The wooden chip trail transforms in front of my very eyes
I’m transported into a muddy trench
Rats feeding on corpses surrounded by flies
Friends of the dead soldiers fuelled by revenge

Looking down I see a familiar face
Recognising him I turn my head in grimace
One, Two, No, Three holes in the deceased
I close my friend’s eyes so he can be at peace

My head aches I hear a sharp ringing sound
Knocked off my feet my face slaps mud
Mounds of dirt heaving off the ground
Voices crying out but drowning in blood

A white light is piercing my vision
I try to get up; I hear voices, so I listen
But they fade away before I can make out what they’re saying
The only things I hear now are children playing.

And the story my grandfather told me?

Nothing but a memory

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WINNER

If I should die today – By Sophie Russell, 15

Beckfoot School

If I should die today,
With my untenured body
Just a mere collection
Of dysfunctional and
Disfigured atoms, please.
Do not let me perish
In this dark and
Discarded crevice.

If I should die today,
I am one of the fallen, bullets
Choke my throat but
I will not pass in rain, as
I am not just
Another infinitesimal
Droplet in
An endless rain.

If I should die today, if
I am deaf
To the wail of war,
And dumb
In the silence of my grave,
I know
I am not alone.

If I should die today,
May poppies invade my soul,
And bathed in mud I proceed to lay,
Haunted, by a human harvest you could not control.

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Greetings To The Moving Bombs – By Siham Souleyman, 15

Zakaria Muslim Girls High School

Oh hi hi! To the moving bombs up in the skies
No! I swear! Stop. No, just stop. I swear on mercy of the Lord above, it’s not fair! It’s not right . . .
My heart is pounding. My eyes are tearful, yet they do not care.
My so called ‘Sweet Sixteen’ is celebrated with my fellow family members separated limbs
Death is such a pity to witness, especially from those who grin.

Oh hi hi! To the moving bombs up in the skies
The dark clouds are smouldering into the ashes of destruction,
It seems to me they do not bother with rejection.
I presume the angel of death is doing its job with the dying soldier,
As he lifts his fingers to the dark skies and say his last words; “I tried”.

Oh hi hi! To the moving bombs up in the skies
I’ve lost faith in humanity
As appropriate communication has lost its hope
People are dying, children are crying
OH! Why are the noises rising?!

Oh hi hi! To the moving bombs up in the skies
Countless days have gone by with no sleep
And yet I still wonder why killing souls are so cheap . . .
They’ve hurt me; physically, emotionally and mentally,
And no, they did not do this accidentally

Oh hi hi, to the moving bombs up in the skies

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My Son – By Anisa Tariq, 15

Belle Vue Girl’ School

My son is brave,
My son is strong,
He is fighting for our country,
And that’s where he belongs.

How I wish that he was here with me,
Just like how it used to be,
But he’s not at home,
He’s in a camp all alone.

It brings me to tears,
Just thinking of him,
He had hopes, dreams and a career,
My life used to be bright, but now it’s just dim.

My son was always smiling,
Even through the tears,
I know I might not see him again,
And that is by far, my biggest fear.

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