This poem was inspired by true events. On Christmas Eve 1915, a peace overture came from the German lines. On Christmas Day, after a night of carol singing, Bertie Felstead, a private in the Royal Welch Fusiliers football was produced from somewhere – though none could recall from where. "It wasn't a game as such, more a kick-around and a free-for-all. There could have been 50 on each side for all I know. I played because I really liked football. I don't know how long it lasted, probably half an hour." recalled that feelings of goodwill had so swelled up that at dawn Bavarian and British soldiers clambered spontaneously out of their trenches. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_truce
CHRISTMAS CAROLS Brothers-in-arms crouched low in the trench,
worn faces streaked with God’s earth.
Uneasy silence infused the dawn
of that day celebrating Christ’s birth.
Raised on the wind, across ‘no man’s land’,
voices carried a well-loved old tune.
Awe-struck allies listened to the choir
as the sun took the place of the moon.
A man hidden in a narrow trench
threw his baritone into the fray.
His brothers-in-arms each found their voice
singing carols on that Christmas Day.
It wasn’t long before men stepped out,
to meet each of the foe face to face.
That Christmas Day, in nineteen fifteen,
‘no man’s land’ was a sociable place.
Photo’s of loved ones proudly displayed
amidst laughter and good cheer all round.
Then, hearts heavy, as the sun sank low,
all crept safely back into the ground.
At midnight the truce came to an end
and the battle raged all through the night
while the cold air resounded anew
with the sounds of a bloodthirsty fight.
On either side of that ‘no man’s land’
brave men’s lives were surrendered too soon,
their inert bodies with shattered limbs
kissed by the sun that replaced the moon.
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Even though I am not 100% happy with the structure of this poem, I am posting it on Armistice Day, in memory of all those who have died in any war so that we could be free.