Read Katie’s incredible poem "Lay down another Poppy" inspired by her study of Wilfred Owen’s war poetry.

Lay down another Poppy

There was a harsh wind that battered the walls of our trenches.
I wondered towards the bedroom section, trudging through the bloody mud.
Men were tearing across the battle field, some buckling under the dead weight of the slumped bodies draped on their backs.
The suffering was inevitable, and endless, and innocence meant nothing here.
A wail split through the sound of the cascading bombs, and my heart was now burning.
I turned and ran towards the infirmary.
My brother lay limp on the damp floor, screeching in pain.
Even though his howls pierced my ears, I sat by him.
He was only 15, and I had told him to stay at home, but he would do anything to protect his country.
But as the moonlight set, my brother whispered “You better lay down another poppy, I don’t think I’ll last long enough to see another Christmas.”
My brother was a fatal example of the brutality that went on here. He had been a hero, he jumped in front of a bullet to save the youngest of our soldiers, Sydney Lewis, and he was only 12.
My heart felt like it had just become completely empty.I clutched his lifeless, pale hand, a sudden feeling of terror rushed over me, drowning me like a wave dragging me under.
I stood up, making my way to the edge of the trench.
I clambered onto the fire step, and over the top of the collapsing mud walls.
Then I squeezed through the gap in the barbed wire.
I walked steadily into the middle of the field, to the left was the waste land, I remember the happy day my brother and I had with the Germans.
The look my brother gave me was shear happiness.
It was New Years Eve tonight, six days after the football match.
I lifted my arms up, and then the blast hit me.
Everything froze in time, the sound of the people yelling at me to come back drowned out.
My heart stopped.
I feel to my knees.
I closed my eyes.
I let the pain kill me.

by Katie