The Anderson Shelter
l decided to write a little poem today about when my late mom and dad told me about the time when, as a newly young married couple, they climbed out of their Anderson Shelter built in their back garden during WW2, to find their house badly damaged.
The Anderson Shelter.
Shards of glass and splintered wood
and wardens struggling through the mud
the 'all clear' wail that died away
in echo's walls, we had to stay.
Attuned attention we turned our ear
as doodlebugs our greatest fear
and clung to box in case were gassed
and held our heads to measured blast.
The holes in walls and roof ripped off
and dust exhumed with every cough
we held hands tight for what we'd see
from metal tomb as we climbed free.
Our home destroyed and belongings gone
but no one hurt, not single one
we don't look back, as days were bad
we survived it all , for that we're glad.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment