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Creative Writing
“Pilot’s Poem”
Ned Sekula
If I shall meet my doom,
In the crisp blue sky,
My family shall hang in gloom,
And say their last goodbye;
My friends will remember that mission,
And remember that, as my last submission.
The Majors will seem to care
With all light-hearted feelings
They will keep sending boys up there,
To finally find their departing.
If I am to die, I die for my
country,
My blood spilt for
my family,
I shall fight for England and
her majesty,
And give my life to the
Germans for my home.
“War Had Struck”
Albert Moores
War had struck. The louder booms of shells dropping from the
Lancasters, whizzing their way to the ominous gloom of wrecked
houses. The Spitfires’
ratatatatata
as they spat their
lead. It tore into anything in its way. The smells of a
burning building rose, as the smoke bellowed out of its
upper windows; screams and yells filled the air. A brigade
of soldiers marched past. Ducking behind a piece of
corrugated iron to catch my breath, I looked through a
little hole in the side. I could see a man holding a 2.2 rifle. Bullets
twanged off the iron. Scrambling away, more bullets fizzed overhead.
My heart was pounding. Safe for the moment.
“The Smugglers’ Poem”
Joel Balogun
See at the water’s edge
Where the beach is sandy,
Twenty-seven scary men,
Landing kegs of Brandy.
Hear the leader softly swear,
‘Easy with the barrels there.’
Load them up the beach with care
And keep your pistols handy.
Dead goes all the candles’ glow
Shadows shuffling on the snow,
Crawl right down and get low,
We are the smugglers, as you know.
All the children try to sleep,
Hush! Or else you’ll see them weep.
If the King’s men catch us stealing,
All this booty, we can’t keep!
So, yes, if you don’t have a fright,
Come and watch us this very night;
We’ll smuggle your windows and your door,
Till all you have, is no more.
“The Smugglers’ Poem”
Henry Macdonald
Down at the sea,
Where you wouldn’t want to be,
The Smugglers charged and barged;
Where the children weep and weep,
The Smugglers are in hiding.
Whoopee! they say,
Down at the bay,
They’ve stolen your gold and delight.
Beware the Smugglers are out and about,
The Smugglers are in hiding.
And now you might think that
my story is over,
But let me just tell you a little secret,
Just beware when you’re out and about,
The Smugglers are in hiding.
“The Smugglers’ Poem”
Austin Anite
Near the little smugglers’ cave
The night was dark and blue;
Where the blue men laid awake,
It was silent as the moon.
Where the church bells were ringing at night,
The house was full of sorrows;
To my unexpected sight,
The men were carrying barrels.
You’d better have a good night’s sleep,
Keep your eyes away from the rippling deep,
Hear the children weep and weep,
Watch out! They’re after you!
The men are wearing blue and gold,
In the deep and windy cold;
They will take away your soul
And use it for their plan.
Will you now embrace the danger?
You alone will know the cost.
Will you now accept our wager?
Or end up with a brutal loss?
S u m m e r F i e l d s
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