A poem on the branch of Imperial War Museum in Trafford, Greater Manchester.
Another Earth has Landed on the banks of the canal,
Broken in three by the hammer called War.
You climb the Stair
to reach the pole.
As darkness falls,
on earths remains.
Following a line, commemorating time
that has a start – but has no end
Sounds and smells from the past –
They Greet You.
Shaking you by the hand like an old friend.
The plane at the start, the tales it would tell
of its old friend Lusitania – they’ve salvaged its bell.
It’s Just past the smell of sweet poison gas,
you carry on walking and pass the old ass.
feeling your way through the trenches of deep
hoping you don’t wake all the rats that are asleep
The T-34 stands just round a bend,
a stones throw away,
from its nuclear friend,
telling the tales of it winning great battles.
The Cossacks roar out as the tanks tracks it rattles
And the Trabant car from Germany
stands out and tall
as you read of what happened
on both sides of th’ wall
in the windows to attention,
as you read of who wore them
– it is worth a mention.
And you read of the colours,
the flags of the men
who are remembered here proudly,
never seen of again.
And You wear the tin helmet
worn by the men
fighting fires wi’ red engines
in fives and in tens.
You land in their place
and think what would you do ?
As you read of the stories
from wars one and of two
Other poems on IWM North