In November we ran a poetry competition in college open to all students. The theme of the competition was ‘Remembrance’.
We are pleased to announce that year 13 student Charlie Eddison won first prize in the competition with the his poem No. 11.
“As the Literacy Lead at Elliott Hudson College, I was incredibly proud to receive so many entries for the poetry competition this year. The students showed themselves to be really creative when responding to the stimulus of, ‘Remembrance’. Thank you to all involved!”
Miss Bratby, Literacy Lead and Teacher of Drama.“I wrote because I felt like writing. There’s nothing more to it.”
Charlie Eddison, year 13 student.
No.11
Cold steel passed down the conveyer belt
As the worker slaved over the machines
Filling the shells with grey death
Over and over and over.
The Factory floor was colder that day
For No.11’s walls had been blown
Wide open. They were building
An extension for casing storage.
But something stirred The Factory’s denizens.
The floor stood still; the workers had flocked
To a muddy hole in the ground
The trenchers were excavating.
A crowd had formed
Like bronze canaries, attracting the worker
From their never-ending buzz
To a pit of earthy charm.
Slowly they approached this ditch
And found below the dirt and grime
A glimpse of white stone
Blackened by time.
It puzzled them at first
For its reason in this place.
History had always told them
That this ancient field held no merit.
Their confusion was visible
To the man in red, head of the dregs
Who explained plain and simple
The nature of this relic.
“This was a resting place
For the soldiers of the past.
The white stone marked their name
And what little they achieved
In a life shorter than most.
Rumours have it that they prayed
And worshipped some old god
Would carry them to a better place
As it would comfort them
Far more than…
What war was this?
I couldn’t tell you.
Historians have been trying to find out
For years and years.
Why was it fought?
No reason worth remembering.
Get back to work.”
A burial place? How odd
They thought whilst the mechanism
Hammered its metal sheets
Into cylindrical shapes.
They were curious about such a conflict
Which led to the death of a man.
Yet no one could name him
In this age, or the last.
Momentary questions plagued their mind
Until they realised it didn’t matter.
For a war long forgotten
Is a war best left unearthed.
The munitions belt needed fixing again.