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Hartlepool Mail - World War 1 Poetry Competition

Haydn Rogan - age 15


Starlight, starlight,
Kind sentinel of early morn,
On and on, they shine bright.
Father Christmas flying at dawn.

Shrill screams to my left,
The frantic stamp of boots to my right.
The world too loud, too fast
Woken in its early morning rest.

The bells of St. Hilda's crying out,
Companionship constituted,
In starlight gaze.

Starlight, starlight.
Starlight turned to star fire.
Shelling Britain's vigor,
On and on until they tire.
Three days early, turned three days late,
As star light turned to star fire.

Lucy Johnson - age 15

Suddenly I awoke,
In bewilderment in shock,
I got up and ran
Was this a dream?

Stumbling over the chaotic road
I stopped dead in my tracks.
The heat behind me is bullying
But where was he?

I'd never seen such a state of desperation,
Dazzled, bewildered, astonished.
The tall Christmas tree which once stood,
No longer stood; falling, crashing, tumbling
Where was the Christmas spirit?

Suddenly, he went
Blew up in to thousands of pieces
At this point, it felt like my life
Had been blown up in to millions of different pieces
How could I live my life without him?

I look around in despair
Bodies lay still and calm
Unfinished snow angels.

It soon came,
The day I didn't want to come
Everyone gathered in St Hilda's Church,
But he will never disappear,
He will always be in my heart.  

Lily Mulcahy - age 16

The Lighthouse

I saw it all.
The apocalyptic melancholy unfolding before me. 
I was supposed to lead
The lost sailors searching for home,
But instead I lead the devil to our door.

The light from the sky outshone the hope
And my light slowly faded away
As the life and souls around me,
And the high fired warning shots against death himself.

Fire fell from the sky above us
And the once calm sea turned to lava.
As if hell had arose and Satan
Had taken control of creation.

And yet I stand
Helpless and watching
Waiting to crumble along with my town
The captain always goes down with their ship.

Nathan Jennings - age 15

When the bombs dropped on Hartlepool port,
The cries of fear were heard.
People screamed and people ran, From the glaring sun.

Children, usually playful
Now run and hide.
Seeking them with glaring eyes,
A hunter made of steel.

Houses collapse, homes in ruin,
Left to smoldering rubble.
Inhabitants gone, the people gone,
Escaping the kindling flame.

The busy streets full,
With the injured and the hurt.
Confusion filling the winter air,
About the usher that called them there.

Becca Jewson - age 15

A shadow of distress swallows the town ,
As the foundations we built our lives upon fall apart.
The bricks collapsing causing the narrow streets to echo the sound
Creating jigsaw pieces or a mosaic of art.

Confusion spreads as no one knows what to say or do,
People running, trying to escape,
Desperate to live through.

Jake Hornsey

The Bombardment of Hartlepool

People run in shock
Loud noises, peoples ears pop.
The lighthouse stands tall
While soldiers and fighters fall.
Death and decay fills the streets.
People run and flee
God save us hear our plea
Hospitals are our savoir our key.
Injured are carried away
The dead wait and lay
1914 was the year of this day.
So 8.30 it started and soldiers were hailed as martyrs.