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
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
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.