Tag: wounded

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

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.

When Heaven Touches Hell

When Heaven Touches Hell is my own book, which is filled with poems capturing different sides of war. So have we the medical side, talking about the field medics and nurses, or the side of the soldier himself, the dying and dead, or those who keep on fighting, the home front and front lines, all portrayed through poetry. With every poem comes a fitting re-enactment picture and explanation to the photograph below it. At the end of the book is an About Me which you can find above.

You can buy the book through my website in about 2,5 to 3 weeks. I’ll be sure to keep you posted and talk about the newest changes when it comes to the publishing of the book.

Some poems can be found on this website or on my instagram, which you can find on this page too.

PHOTOGRAPH BY JOOST RITZEN FROM ZIPS-FOTOGRAFIE

http://zipsfotografie.nl

The Streets

The streets I once walked with my friends and family, had been reduced to nothing but stones and dust, while shattered lives were there for everyone to take or have a look at.

The worst thing was, after another bombing, another night in our shelter, another day of fear, I forgot to care. I forgot to care about those who lost their lives, those who lost everything keeping them together, or those who lost their future, because of the Germans.

The Germans, a nation that was destroying another. A part of me thought, how could they? How could they throw those bombs on our cities knowing what would happen? Who in their right minds would make the choice to destroy the home front, instead of the front lines?

But then it dawned on me, after a too long while. We were back-up, we were the very roots of our boys out there, we were the hope they sometimes didn’t have. And if the enemy found a way to destroy us too, peace and faith would crumble to pieces.

I looked across the rubble, old shops I used to visit, houses that once belonged to my friends, even an old piano I used to play, had been scattered over the ones so beautiful street, and humanity’s sense with it.

We would take revenge, I knew we would. But I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. The only way we could show we weren’t soft, was give the same blow back, only harder. And I didn’t want hundreds of lives on my conscience just for my pride. 

This was war, everyone knew it. So instead of crying, for there were no more tears to cry, or hide, for there was nowhere left to hide, I tugged down my dress, opened the dying door, and walked outside, straight into the arms of chaos. Because I’d never show I had broken. 

If I did, I fear there’d be no one who would be able to help me, and I’d lay there, wracked in between my shattered past, feeling sorry for myself. No, I couldn’t. I had to be strong, for anyone I had left.

Or at this point, anythingI had left.

The photograph shows London in the Blitz, 1940, with her ruined streets.

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.

A Conversation With Death

I always thought of death as the enemy, this dark figure that would take your hand and never let it go, as he walks with you to the gates of Hell. He’d offer you to go to Heaven, because he already knew that’s what you’d pick, as he waits for you to make your choice, he says:

“You’re free to choose, son, so what’s it going to be?”
“You can either chose heaven or chose heavenly.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you’d tell him, at last
“Can I have some time to think,or do you need my answer fast?”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he’d smirk “so, don’t feel stressed.”
“Just chose whether you want to be worshiped,” he whispered “or blessed.”

“And all the other boys? Can you tell me what they chose?”
“Apologies,” he admitted “but I fear nobody knows.”

“So this is it? I have to pick one of the two, without knowing which holds whom?”
“For one might be my resting place and one may be my doom.”

The devil thought silently, before he muttered under his breath,
Perhaps he shouldn’t live to see what comes right after death?

“Rather I could take you home,” he offered, “if that is what you desire?”
And so the soldier turned his back to that heavenly angels choir

Took the devils hand, and together they walked back
To where the devil had before so ruthlessly attacked.

“Thank you,” the soldier spoke “for yet another day.”
“Don’t mind it, it’s what you deserved,” death would say