POEMS WRITTEN ABOUT BORNEO PRISONERS OF WAR

The following is a list of known poems about Borneo POWs. Please do advise the webmaster of any additional poems that may be available for inclusion. We thank all the contributors for allowing us to share their memories and their personal thoughts. The poems are in the order of the author's surname.

Poems written by Bill Young about his time as a POW are not included here but are available at the following web page link:       Bill Young Poems

In 1945, Christopher Elliot visited Borneo in search of information about his missing brother, Corporal Donald Elliot, Royal Air Force, of Beccles, Suffolk, England. Donald, who was on the first death march and whose will was found near Ranau, died on 17 March 1945 in the vicinity of Paginatan. In 1996, Christopher Elliot returned to Sandakan and Ranau with the next generation—his daughter and Donald’s niece, Anne Elliot. Anne wrote the following tribute to her uncle’s memory. It may be allowed to speak for all the Sandakan POWs—Australian and British—and how they might like to be remembered by those who loved them and missed them down the years:

To the spirit of Donald Elliot

You don’t know me.
But I know you
Through my father, he has not forgotten you
And never will.
His life has been greatly affected
By your death.
He always looked up to you, you were his hero.
I will never forget.
Hope that you are at peace here.
And that you didn’t suffer too much pain.
And that you can forgive your enemies
For what they did to you.
I thought of you at the VJ Day March
In Pall Mall, London.
I stood and watched the veterans walk
By—the lucky ones.
I was quite choked but proud.
You did it for me and the likes of me.
Thank you.
I think things would have been
Different if you were still around.
But life isn’t always fair, is it?

A poem written by Ken Jones. Ken lost his father, Denzil Herbert Jones, who was massacred on 13th July 1945 at Sandakan Airport along with 22 other servicemen.

WHAT IS IT LIKE

WHAT IS IT LIKE TO HAVE
A FATHER WHEN YOU ARE TEN
IT’S BEAUT- KICK THE FOOTY
BAT AND BOWL
CATCH FISH TOGETHER.
HE GOES CROOK AT YOU
WHEN YOU ARE NAUGHTY.
THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE

COMES THE WAR
HE ANSWERS THE CALL
NOW HE’S A PRISONER.
HE’S TOUGH, WON’T BE LONG
HE’LL BE HOME AGAIN SOON.
YOU MISS HIM, YOU’RE LONELY.
THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE

THEN THE TELEGRAM.
NO DAD TO KICK THE
FOOTY WITH NOW.
AFTER THE TEARS
MUST BE TOUGH
MUST HELP MUM
MUST BE A MAN.
TELL ME, WHAT IS IT LIKE
TO HAVE A FATHER
WHEN YOU ARE FOURTEEN.

In 2001 John Lewis and his wife, Jean, went to Singapore and Sabah (previously North Borneo) to see the POW Camp at Sandakan, where his Uncle Hedley died in 1945, to Ranau and the route of the Death Marches from Sandakan to Ranau, and the Labuan cemetery where the remains of all the victims were interred. John wrote an article about his 2001 pilgrimage which is included in the web page link:         Pilgrimages to Borneo
Within that article John included poems that he wrote during the trip. Those poems relating to the POWs at Borneo are included here.

Sandakan Service

Anzac Dawn, Sandakan
calls to prayer
fill the air.
Anzac Day, Sandakan
gather we few
to pay their due.

The Padang, Sandakan
marching they waltzed
Matilda.
The Padang, Sandakan
riding we cried
Matilda.

Memorial Park, Sandakan
we do not talk
but wait and walk
Memorial Park, Sandakan
by lily pond
to tree of stone.

Anzac Service, Sandakan
words spoken
hearts broken
Anzac Service, Sandakan
gum leaves burned
lessons learned.

Prisoner Camp, Sandakan
this sad place
we few face.
Prisoner Camp, Sandakan
We face the past
free at last.


Ranau Road

Heavy load, muddy track,
miles to go, no turn back;
men die
bodies lie
on the Ranau Road.

Come on mate, can’t be late;
Up you get, now you're set.
feet fumble
men stumble
on the Ranau Road.

Escape or die, escape and die?
jungle voice, Hobson's choice;
shots heard
no word
on the Ranau Road.

On they go. Can’t be slow.
Miles to go. No smoko.
men die
bodies lie
on the Ranau Road.


Sandakan Pilgrimage

From Johore to Singapore
we saw their fight, felt their plight
to Selarang with them we marched
watched by ghosts of people past.

In Sandakan we met their ship
shared their relief to be ashore
climbed to the Church from the Padang
Waltzing Matilda with them sang.

The Camp is not the same to-day
but to the past we found our way
watched them starve and go and come
to fetid work never done.

In the Camp and on the track
we held them near, shed a tear
died with them these soldiers true
said goodbye mid morning dew.

Within our hearts we were there
when the precious load was found
carried with such loving care
buried in this sacred ground.

Now as we leave these brave men
with thanks that they have lived again
we pilgrims all heartsore
know they live for evermore.


Borneo Farewell

We have come and we have seen
what never should have been
we have said our prayer
and left them there
heard them sigh
goodbye

And a later poem written by John Lewis in 2004, which is dedicated to the memory of a beautiful and gallant lady, Marjorie Pryor, wife of Les and sister-in-law of Darcy who died at Ranau.

The Silent Army

The vast army is nearly silent now.
The old ones are slipping away
to join the young ones patrolling
the endless shadowlands of memories.

The familiar strains of Auld Lang Syne
play softly in the mind
while stories of the vast army
are writ with growing urgency
for later generations to learn
of the disease of war and its cure
achieved by the pain and sacrifice
of the youth of the vast army.

Raw memories of Sandakan sacrifice
so long buried in secrecy
weep for a History for the Ages
to tell generations to come
of the evil that was done here;
of the strength that was found here;
of the succor that was given here;
of the hope that was born here.

Sandakan’s History for the Ages
is in our “Windows from the Heart”
our gift of love to those on endless patrol
in the shadowlands of our memories.

A poem written by Colin Prior at Sandakan POW Camp on Anzac Day 2000. Colin lost his father, Leslie Prior, at an unknown location (at either Sandakan, Ranau or on the Ranau Death Marches).

Behind the Wire

The spirit of my Father
Moved inside my head
Talking to me quietly
Of things that were unsaid

For we were on an island
Where his blood was in the sand
He asked about his loved ones
And the answers there he found

Then his spirit left forever
For where, I do not know
I had given him his ticket
And he was free to go.

Colin Simpson wrote a documentary drama for the ABC titled 'Six From Borneo'. At the commencement of that one hour documentary drama, Simpson wrote a verse that tells of his experiences and feelings when he walked in the footsteps of those who died on the Sandakan-Ranau Death Marches.

From walking in the footsteps of the dead,
Treading the selfsame earth, the grass, the mud,
The upland stone, the roots that ridge the track,
Taking the only path, their path, between
The jungle and the jungle - that green cage
Which does not hold the teeming life within
From reaching out with tendril, frond and thorn
As though to stay what it would soon devour...

From walking in the footsteps of the dead,
Feeling their presence in a rotten boot,
A blaze upon a tree that marks a grave,
A bullet scar still unhealed in the bark,
A scrap of webbing and an earth-stained badge,
A falling bamboo hut, a giant tree
They rested at; this creek,
This climb that runs the sweat into your eyes--
Though you aren’t laden, fevered, driven, starved...
You tell yourself you know how they went by.

A poem written by Vic Tyrrell who lost his father, Albert (Rex) Tyrrell, at Ranau.

Sandakan March

In the Land Beneath the Wind
where the Sacred Mountain stands.
At a place called Sandakan
near Ramua by the aerodrome,
filtered sun shines through the trees
reflecting the shadows of horror years.

The shadows that now remain,
we hope will never be again.
They tell of suffering beyond despair.
They reflect the pain, and valor, of the men
imprisoned there.
The anguish of another day, of beatings, torture,
and cruel display.

Of grit and courage were these men,
the men imprisoned in Sandakan.
For three years and more they endured through-out
to return to home, old friends, and house.
The captors did not share their view,
they forced a March to Ranau.
A March of Death was to begin
veiled in lies of fare and fill.
A change of place our soldiers thought,
would bring relief and some retort.

One hundred and seventy miles to go,
that was all required,
to greener fields and a better life style.
Seventeen days to complete the track,
there was to be not turning back.
Flogged and beaten all the way,
these men of burden weak and worn,
carried their mates through mud and rain,
to falter was never to be seen again.

Gallant in mind and bodily strained,
a second march was to begin. A similar fate was in store,
for another five hundred or more.
Stressed with sickness, racked with pain,
without boots or hat and loaded with
packs of Nippon man, our men were on the march again.
The order was to dispose of them.
Stragglers knew their fate, but never forgot
goodbye to their mate.
And as their life slipped by,
their food and possession they did not deny.

To live in hope was all that was left.
In faith in God, in his bequest.
To weary souls, wrought with pain,
into the darkness, never to be seen again.
For those remaining, the future grim,
sadness and tears for the next of kin.
A tragic end at the hands of foe,
who murdered to hide their unforgivable sins.
In a war they so desperately wanted to win.

In remembrance we all stand.
To honour such a courageous band.
To shed a tear of deep regret, to pray for tortured
souls, still yet.
To remember and never to forget,
the wasted lives of soldiers strong,
whose memory will linger long
in the hearts of loved ones when they are gone.
And at the Monument in their honour
at that place in Sandakan.
The immortal souls still roam the grounds
in the hope that everlasting peace resounds.