War - gallipoli

• Ben Mcowan, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2005

Why, Why, Why did I come to this place of death?
With the sound of choppers roaring over my head.
The stench of the trenches is terrible, with gun powder through the air.
The smoke from all the dynamite shows clearly in the glare.
I run for the Turks, the machine guns are manned. We are asked to give our life through the General in Command.