Basic Info

Hello there! My name is Sara Curfs, I’m a teenage writer who reads her poetry about the Second World War (all written by myself) in English. I do so in the uniform of a nurse during this time, or, when asked to, in a different attire (1940’s civilian for example).

You can hire me to read at your events. Please message me through the email in contacts and let me know the details!

Here are some pictures to show what I do and how I look. PHOTOGRAPHS BY NICK GEERLING

Echt-Susteren

18 and 19 January 2020, while still living in the rush of being in the newspaper, I was hired to read my poems for the Echt-Susteren event. I was more than thrilled to do so and decided to show up in the right attire.

During the event I read a few of my poems, one before the mock battle and one before the amazing concert on Sunday evening. I met a lot of great people and I was very thrilled to have gotten this chance.

There aren’t many pictures from me, but I found one made by Patricia Geerling and one by a photographer for L1 (I assume Jean-Pierre Geusens). I want to thank the organization for the amazing weekend and everyone who showed up. Thanks again

De Limburger Newspaper

On the 13th of January 2020 I had an interview with Geertjan Claessens for the newspaper known as “De Limburger”. He came to my house and we talked for about an hour on my hobby and what drove me to do what I do.

It was an experience that really made an impact on me. I didn’t know how to act in the beginning, and was really nervous. But after a few minutes I loosened up and he and I spend a good part of the interview just making some jokes and talking stress free.

After that Annemiek Mommers, the photographer, and I tried to come up with a good idea on a pose for the photograph. To be honest with you, I was more a nervous, chuckling and kind of embarrassed mess, and she pulled me through it for sure.

She took an amazing photograph in my library where I write most of the times. She’s an amazing person and a very kind soul.

Skip forward to Tuesday. I was still sleeping when my father woke me up, walking into my bedroom with a grin on his face and exclaiming: “You’re in.”

It’s quite a weird moment for one to wake up with your own face staring back at you from the newspaper you read daily. And especially since I wasn’t fully awake yet, I spend about five minutes just staring in disbelief. One of the first pages, my interview.

Let’s just say I never expected to get this far, so every new step is frightening. But its worth it.

Radio LRM

In November 2019 the same friend who wrote that beautiful song for me, helped me get on a radioshow in the Netherlands! Johan Coolen is a true sweetheart and helped me through my first ever 30 minutes fame on the radio, haha.

I read a few poems and talked about why I do what I do, etc. The topic of how my teachers responded to what I do came up, and I remembered the one history teacher I had who called me “soldier girl”. So for the show I was sometimes called “soldier girl” which stood out quite funny to me, but also very nice.

I had a blast, it was something I had never done before. As said before the entire team was amazing, I couldn’t have asked for a better moment of the day.

I’m not sure if you can see it, but during the show I was wearing a Poppy for Remembrance Day. I talked about the First World War and read a poem for all the soldiers who fought so many years ago.

Der Regenbogen des Kriegs

Alles ist anders wie erst
Rot ist nicht nur einfach rot 
Rot ist die Farbe der Menschen die ihren Streit verloren haben
Rot ist die Farbe der Kinder die nicht mehr nach Hause wiederkehren sollen
Rot ist die Farbe des Kriegs
Des Blut das ich nicht mehr von meiner Händen waschen kann
Rot wie die Sonne die mich jeden Tag weckt
Rot wie die Lippen der Frau die ich so vermisse
Rot, die Farbe des Kriegs, dem Zuhause das ich nicht mehr wieder erkenne
Rot ist meine Farbe, so wie Tausenden anderen Männer und Frauen, weil rot nicht nur einfach rot ist

A dead German soldier, killed during the German counter offensive in the Belgium-Luxembourg salient, is left behind on a street corner in Stavelot, Belgium, on January 2, 1945, as fighting moves on during the Battle of the Bulge.

To Be Loved

Do you know this feeling where you just want to be loved? You want to be recognized by someone and know that you are worth loving. It’s like the constant rush for appreciation, not so much love itself. You want to be held, kissed, you want to be important to someone. 

And because you’re human, you return that appreciation. After one, maybe more, weeks, it just fades away into nothingness, until you are left with someone who doesn’t love you, but just wants to be loved. 

Shame, that’s what washed over me when I realized this. I had used someone for the soul purpose of being told I was loved. I couldn’t see it then, for I was blinded by the idea I could fight everything, because someone thought I could.

The same person had used me too, the exact same reason in his head as it was in mine, so at the end, it didn’t truly feel like I alone was at fault. I wanted to be recognized and he wanted attention, it was a perfect match made in Hell, but it felt like Heaven to me.

Now I’ve realized we both didn’t do anything wrong. We were trying to get back up from our previous battle and just needed a helping hand, a smiling face to tell us we could do it. I was his, he was mine. And now we are ourselves again.

Jose Morales

Don’t ever forget that you are loved
By those right here and those above
For what you’ve said and done
By loving wife and son

And don’t you dare to brush it off
When someone says you’ve done enough
For your hard work is seen by all
And we’ll be there, when you stand or fall

You fought in wars we can’t comprehend
And I realise not all can be mend
But I will do my best for you
Because this is what my generation should do

You see, there are so many who care
And trust in them, for they’ll be there
All you need to do is ask
And although that sounds like an impossible task

We do remember all those wars
And I realise my freedom is yours
So let that never be in vain
All your love and pain

This poem is for Jose Morales, born in 1923. He is still very much alive and getting on for 97.
He served in the 5th armoured division in Europe and then continued on fighting in Korea.
He loved to be outside working, he was a true handyman. He worked as a plumber and loved his wife Josefina Morales (1922-2017) and his three sons Joe Morales, Carlos Morales and Ramiro Morales (1949-2017).

I want to thank his grandson for approaching me, Corban Adkins. He is in two of the photographs.

When Heaven Touches Hell

The book is now finally published and purchasable. When Heaven Touches Hell is a book with 40 beautiful poems accompanied by stunning photographs! The in total 75 pages high quality paper comes at a low price (shipping not included). At only 14 years old, Sara Curfs wrote a book with the most impressing poetry in a language not even hers. We are excited to share with you and everyone around the world: When Heaven Touches Hell. (Send a Message through the website to purchase the book)

The book costs €9,95 (euro’s!!!) without shipping.
Costs of the book in The Netherlands are €14,- INCLUDING DELIVERY

While sending an email to purchase the book, please inform us of your residence so we can calculate extra costs including shipping/transport.

The book will be delivered to you in an extra protective envelope to make sure it doesn’t get to you in any damaged way.

War’s VIP

Pure hate was all it took
To ensure his place in my history book
Written down on paper, white
He stands there with full delight

Children have to learn his curse
And what perhaps is even worse
Is that not many of them know
Where all the lost soldiers go

The Fuhrer, he made it to the end
Not strong enough to play pretend
As he puts that horrid gun on his head
While he joins his men in death

He got out through the backdoor
And I smile, for war is no more
But am I sure? I fear I’m not
A fake smile is all these men’ve got

He fell before he could’ve even met
The soldiers of war, which he had fed
He went out, knowing he didn’t win
A new era, he knew, would never begin

The news spreads, he took the easy way out
Some people are stillfilled with doubt
Because Adolf Hitler put a bullet
Through that mind in which demons crept

And there he is, chapter five
As we learn about those no longer alive
And those who chose his side
In the depths of Hell, they hide

The name of that one man
That’s a name everyone should recognize
And what about the name of all the soldiers?
Their hearts twice the size

Of the Fuhrer of the Fatherland

So why is it that we don’t learn about Theodore Miller, Ruth Haskell, Werner Goldberg but we do learn about Adolf Hitler, Jozef Goebbels, Herman Göring and Heinrich Himmler?

Only the important people, right?

About Me (From Book)

Hello! My name is Sara Curfs and I’m fourteen years old, or at least I was when I wrote these poems. I live in The Netherlands, go to a secondary school like every other teenager and I do re-enacting (which I realised sooner or later not many other teens do). 

I’ve been writing ever since I can remember, behind a small and old wooden desk from my father and even tried writing English when I was around ten years old. I’m self-taught in the language and started truly writing English when I was twelve.

I’m quite a cheerful person, if I say so myself, I’m very spontaneous (sometimes a bit too much) and happy, overall. I wrote my first book, in Dutch, when I was very young, and it never came to be.

I went on my very first re-enactment event in September, 2018. I was so surprised and shocked but above all impressed of what I’ve seen, that I decided to write a story. A story turned into a poem, which turned into multiple poems, which escalated into a website and an own book. 

And now we’re here.

I want to thank you for reading until the very end, hoping I’ve either warmed you at heart or made you feel any emotion whatsoever.

I never thought this would happen, my own book. It’s quite scary, isn’t it? Hopefully you enjoyed my poems, that’s all that matters.