Bombing, banging, booming boats.
Fire flying through the open air.
Screaming as people get hit by the burning, crackling, flaming fire.
Children clinging to their Mothers trying to be brave
But their Mothers saying, “Go, I’ll be fine.”
And when they come back no one’s there, everyone’s gone
Swarming skies with planes letting go to big round things
Which blow up metres of land and buildings.
Everything’s brown, burnt, bare.
Competition Winner!
Dear Freddie,
You carry your great grandfathers’ name. He would have been so proud, as We are, of your capturing in words of this awful time. He, away with the RAF for years and me a baby, but I do remember!
As a child your granddad remembers the blitz well!
Your poem brought years to my eyes.
Thank you Freddie
Well done!
It’s all there, a huge talent for language and drama, and making the reader feel what it might be like to be there. Very impressive, congratulations!
Freddie – you are a winner! That is so exciting, you must be so proud of yourself. Well done you.