Drafted
I am a soldier drafted in the war.
Sent far from my family and my friends.
I sailed by ship to reach the bloody shore
of European countries fighting ends.
I never wanted a part in this fight.
I did not want to kill or shoot a gun.
I wanted to have a good life, despite
the deadly war that needed to be won
In Nineteen Seventeen (1917), six months before
While the Great War raged in Europe’s own land
I was drafted and sent to the deep core
and saw the fight of the countries first hand
The food is rationed in tiny portions
The living quarters are dirty and rank
As I run through the deadly trench sections,
I see the bodies of dead lay eyes blank
So here I am, out in the fields of France
Gun in my hand, hearing the battle cry.
Wondering if I’ll have a decent chance.
Wondering if I’ll live or if I’ll die.
Poetic Form: Quatrain
Meter: Iambic Pentameter
Event: The United States Enters World War 1
Perspective: U.S. Soldier
Title: Drafted