In No Man’s Land SONG

Martin Krewinkel, a man in my re-enactment group and to be fair, a true sweetheart and a gem in every way, messaged me one day if it would be alright with me if he used one of my poems for a song.

Of course I said yes.

Time went by, and after a month or so, he messaged me again, now with the complete song of one of my poems. He loves music and loves writing and singing, yet all the same he loved my poetry and combined the two to something so sweet and heartwarming.

I listened the song for a good few days non-stop until everyone at home grew tired of me and I was forced to wear headphones, haha. None the less, it truly warms my heart and I personally really like the song, hope you all do too!

Credits go to Martin Krewinkel for the amazing song!

Here are the original poem:

There he lay,
In crimson bathing,
His lifeless eyes,
Stargazing
His useless body,
Laying still,
No more breaths,
For his lungs to fill
No more days,
Yet to come,
No more watching
The rising sun

There he sat,
With bloody hands,
Mourning,
For his fallen friends,
His lips shut,
No words to say,
No call to utter,
Or God to pray,
With anger filled,
He grabbed a gun,
And fired,
At that rising sun

And so,
Night took over day,
Yet close,
Death would always stay,
He sat silently,
In No Man’s Land,
With a message,
For Heaven to send,
Of grief, sadness,
And the beautiful dead,
A message which is nothing more,
Than sad

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.

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.

Roermond Bevrijdingsfestival 2019

After Kunstbende, there were many emails asking me if I wanted to read my poems on certain events. On of those was the so called “Bevrijdingsfestival Roermond.” Of course I agreed, because it’s about the liberation of The Netherlands during the Second World War.

That same day I had another event of my re-enacting group. So, dressed in full HBT uniform with my bag and helmet I sat in the train, together with my mother, to Roermond. I had a handful of poems, because they gave m ten minutes, twice.

That’s a lot of time.

I read my poems, and in between I talked about history and small facts, or explained the uniform I was wearing or what the poem meant. That was really amazing to do. I met a veteran, not from WWII, though none the lees very important! He has my utter respect, I invited him to come and watch me reading the poems.

While reading, I noticed him in the back. That truly made me warm at heart, especially because he didn’t have to come watch, but did none the less. When I passed him on my way home, I thanked him once more.

What was also beautiful was this little girl, who loved my poems. After being done with my first 10 minutes I had a break, and decided to walk through the festival. I was gone too fast for her to catch up with me. But after I came back, her grandmother talked to me and told me how much it meant to her granddaughter.

That made my day, easily. I wish I could’ve talked to her, but sadly I didn’t. None the less I hope everyone enjoyed the poems I read. It was a small caravan, none the less it drew people in, and it was a beautiful experience.

Poppy’s Day 2018

I’ve always been interested in World War One and World War Two, treating these topics with most utter respect. Back in November 2018 I wrote my first WWI related poem called “In No Man’s Land.” My school had asked a handful of the people in my class, including myself and many of my friends, to join the mass of Remembrance Day weeks before.

After being invited and telling my father, I wrote the poem on my way to the hairdresser, in the back of our car. When we got home, I read it to him. He immediately contacted the organizer of the event and send my poem to her. She asked if I wanted to read this after the mass, to the soldiers of Brunssum and other people invited.

Starstruck and over the moon, I said yes.

I read the poem, although I was very nervous. It touched many people, I soon realized, for many came to me and thanked me, or said I did a good job. That was my first time reading my poems to anyone else than my family.

That’s where it all started, my urge to bring my poems to others, read them to anyone who wanted to listen. It was a beautiful day, it really helped me grasp an idea of what I wanted to do with my poetry.

The video below is me reading the poem. In the description you will find the lyrics.

Why One Fights

In this war, everyone has a different reason to fight, a person or idea they make themselves believe is worth hall this, this suffering, this never-ending fighting and this ever-lasting battle between two sides, which both don’t really want to do this.

You need something, someone, to keep you going. You need to have this dream, this vision of perfection you want to achieve, in order for you to get up in the morning and continue the life that has been so rudely taken from you all those years ago.

Some fight for freedom, a noble cause of course, the thought that everyone will be able to walk on these streets, Jew or not, male or female, they don’t care. Everyone has basic rights they wish to achieve, because what kind of world are we living in, when little kids can’t go to school just because of the star they’re forced to wear? 

Some fight for loved ones. The man next to me? He’s writing a letter to his wife and children, every week. He’s fighting for them, he didn’t enlist for his family, but you can be damn sure they are always in his mind, gun or not, whether he is in a battle or not, it’ll always be his family.

The young kid, he’s fighting for honour and pride. Maybe not as noble as freedom, yet interesting to say the least. He feels like he owes his country this, a country which not too long ago, wasn’t even ours to begin with. He thinks this is what he should do. 

Others fight for shelter and food, the money they get. They have seen hard times, lived through them, and they saw the perfect opportunity to have shelter, rations and a pay check. You should’ve seen their faces when they were sent to other countries. 

Some fight because they expected it to be fun, to have all the ladies swirling around them, to have them look at him, while their panties drop and they fall on their knees before him. That didn’t go as planned either, as I bet you could’ve guessed already.

Me? Why I’m fighting? I’d love to say something heroic, something brave, something that would make you think that it was the best thing I ever did, enlist in the army. But to be fair, I did it because I saw everyone who already enlisted look so honourable and shiny in their green suits, I was jealous. That’s a reason too, envy.

I know it sounds stupid, that I envied them. But all the reason’s above, they didn’t apply to me. I didn’t feel the need to bring freedom, because I didn’t expect myself to be able to. I didn’t have anyone I loved, except my mother, honour and pride had left me a long time ago, the shelter and food, the money, they didn’t draw me in. I was used to living without much gold and glitter, I didn’t do it for the ladies. I did it because of the most stupid reason anyone’s ever heard.

If I look back at myself, I swear to God I would hit myself so hard I’d fall through the ground and straight into Hell, where I belong. I was foolish to think the war was just another stupid decision that might work in my favour. 


It didn’t.

The photograph shows the original Band of Brothers: Easy Company, US 101st Airborne Division. There have been multiple books written by the man that served in Easy Company and a short series (partly) directed by Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg

Peace?

He looked at what was left of the war
No Man’s Land silent at last
Feeling guilty of the clothes he wore
There was just one thing he asked

He asked God up in the sky
Just for five minutes or less,
“Protect me so I don’t die,
Still wearing my army dress.”

Some parties they agreed
Not to fire a single round
Another dead, there was no need
For even more bodies in the ground

Other soldiers they did not
Believe that war was gone
Their firearm still burning hot
To death they were drawn

Few didn’t keep in mind
On their muddy watch, still going
11 o’clock is to be defined
As peace for the unknowing

Seconds before the church bell yells
That peace has finally been ensured
A dozen stories no one will tell
Of wounds that will never be cured

Have happened

Written down on marble white
At 5 AM Germany will write
Peace, between the nations
The roaring twenties crumbling foundations

And 6 hours later
The man on the field are told
War’s very own violator
Has finally been controlled.

But in that time too many will fall
Because of a last whistle being blown
Over No Man’s Land they crawl
For the didn’t know

This poem was based on the short film called END OF WAR- the final minutes of WWI. The “peace” was signed at 5AM, but the soldier didn’t know until 11AM, or couldn’t act on it until that time at least.

Take My Hand

The smell of death
You’ll never know
Caused by the fallen
Down below

She takes you
In her suffocating hug
While she silently swallows
The holes you have dug

The men that have died
Now reduced to mud
As she takes the rest
Of the life you may got

She won’t have mercy
She’ll whisper her song
To the wounded and dying
That here just don’t belong

The land of the living
The sky of the dead
For you’ll never remember
When Death and you met

This poem was inspired by a friend of mine, Nick Geerling, who has a Second World War German trench in his backyard. I stayed there last Thursday, together with my brother and himself. It was an amazing experience and above all he documented the whole day for his youtube channel, link below.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8Yefv28y448lp_su2bZwhA