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Posted by Lt_Henson (U2436367) on Sunday, 4th December 2005
Saw a few poems floating around, so thought I'd add one o mine. one thing, please don't use it for your own personal benifit because I love poetry and like everyone don't like my work being ripped off.
cheers.
For king and country,
For all that is good,
Remember them all,
Who gave their blood
Row upon row,
Rank upon rank,
Line upon line,
Nationality after nationality,
They share an unbreakable bond,
They lived, fought and died together
All for us.
He is forgotten,
He is a memory,
He is a number,
He is a lost generation
feel free to comment!
All the time there are peoms etc writen about their sacrifice they will never be forgotten.
So here is my effort.
ΒιΆΉΤΌΕΔ to England thoughts have I,
High in the skay a flight of swallows,
Amongst the corn a summer winds sigh,
Around misty lough and willow.
Greenfields, leafy broughs,
Merry sparkle, running brook,
A gentle sound, herd of cows,
Valient fight, trout on the hook.
Far off lazy summers of my youth,
When the sun shone from dawn to dusk,
Fair maiden a beauty in truth,
An english rose, such a heady musk.
ΒιΆΉΤΌΕΔ to england thoughts have I,
A leafy lane, a trodden path,
At the door roses tied,
ΒιΆΉΤΌΕΔ fire flickering in the hearth.
The sun is warm apon my face,
England, England such thoughts have I,
As the battle moves to another place,
On this foreign field so green I die.
Well,
Considering I had a good old pop at the other poems posted on here, I'd better stick a comment on!
Lt, pretty good, and not too far off the truth, but maybe a little bit enthusiastic towards war (but then you have openly stated your opinion on it previously, so I can't really argue with it!)
Spike,
Excellent visual imagery, you can almost picture the scene. As an "after the battle" depiction, spot on!
Cheers
DL
I don't think I can add anything to what Kipling wrote in "Epitaphs of the War"
If any question why we died,
Tell them because our fathers lied.
There is a place in this world-the most beautiful, compassionate.
There the green delta is awash with honey-sweet grass.
Trees have names like jackfruit, aswattha, banyan, jamarul, cashew.
There in clouds at dawn awakes the nata fruitlike red round sun.
There Varuni resides at the mouth of the Ganges-and there Varuna
Yields abundant river waters to the Karnafuli, Dhaleswari, Padma,
Jalangi .
Not written by me, but I like it.
DL,
cheers for the response, I'll stick somemore up there soon, just poetry is a hard thing to do....
Hi DL,
Thank you for your kind comments and perhaps like Lt_Henson I'll do another. Any ideas on a theme?
Regards
Spike
Hi Spike,
You taking requests now??
How about doing one on "losing a battle"?
Cheers
DL
Hi DL,
No not really just thought it might be interesting to suggest a theme for people to responed to.
But since you ask.....
The hot cut of steel,
Everything in an instant,
Worlds ablaze, senses reel,
Yearning for those ages past,
Elation for those to come.
On the cheek one last tear,
As the nightingale calls,
The cold, the heat,
The light, the dark,
At the fall of the last fear.
Very nice Spike,
Once again, lots of imagery, and very descriptive emotionally!
Good stuff!
DL
Thank you. Perhaps others would like to do a poem with a Christmas theme?
Regards
Spike
, in reply to message 11.
Posted by andyd:now spends half his time in tescos and i may know where oak is occasionaly (U2384509) on Tuesday, 20th December 2005
not written by me as am not that good at it but its one i like:
REQUIEM TO A REAR GUNNER
My brief sweet life is over,
My eyes no longer see,
No Christmas trees,
no summer walks
No pretty girls for me,
I've got the chop, I've had it
My nightly Ops are done,
Yet in another hundred years
I'll still be twenty one.
By R.W. Gilbert
Cheers. I found this thread WAY WAY back, I thought i re-posted, but it appears not....
i want to keep this going so got my good poem out. it went into a book.
Twisting down the hill,
Between the guns and mud,
is the blood of almighty men,
who stood for what was good.
Weeping women wnadering,
between the mounds of men,
who died defending,
their country again.
Millions died in a few short years,
the bombs,
the gas,
the tears.
There are no winners,
unless none die,
only losers,
who bravely lost their life.
Twisting down the mountain
Bullets fly overhead
Blood is moving moving
until its on your doorstep,
telling you your husbands dead.
metal in flesh,
gone in a flash,
died in gas,
a few ways to die.
Blood is coming down the mountain,
from the top they say,
and flying at the top,
is a flag.
The movement of blood,
is the only around,
only corpses are to be found.
The movement of war is sad,
swift.
Its already gone.
, in reply to message 1.
Posted by marduk-slayer of tiamat (U2258525) on Wednesday, 1st March 2006
iron maiden did a pretty cool song 'bout the sactrifice of those men.
which one?
, in reply to message 15.
Posted by marduk-slayer of tiamat (U2258525) on Wednesday, 1st March 2006
oops, deleted the name, its paschendale on dance of death, the actual lyrics are really good, and would make a good stand alone poem, even if your not into metal
Cool. Yeah. Guns N Roses have great lyrics,
as do dire straits and zz topp
, in reply to message 17.
Posted by marduk-slayer of tiamat (U2258525) on Wednesday, 1st March 2006
you dont find gnr or zztop making songs about the horrors of war do you? ai meant the song was meaningful, and got across what the poems written up here are also getting across.
no, their just good songs.
Another I deeply admire was wriiten by an unkown marine on d-day.
And when he gets to Heaven
To saint Peter He shall tell
'One more soldier reporting Sir-
I've served my time in Hell'
Powerful.
, in reply to message 20.
Posted by (( sean )) Free Nordmann (U2053581) on Saturday, 4th March 2006
Three weeks gone and the combatants gone
returning over the nightmare ground
we found the place again, and found
the soldier sprawling in the sun.
The frowning barrel of his gun
overshadowing. As we came on
that day, he hit my tank with one
like the entry of a demon.
Look. Here in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.
We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that's hard and good when he's decayed.
But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.
For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
And death who had the soldier singled
has done the lover mortal hurt.
who was the author of that poem sean? I've read it awhile back now and Iβve forgotten.
Anyway, here's one of mine;
Valhalla
The tide of battle had turned
And he, mere flotsam upon this crimson sea,
Did lay there, knotted and draining.
Shot-through at twenty paces,
Misting the air behind him with flecks
of his flesh.
His mind drifted in and out of empty darkness
Upon the moans of others in deathβs tightening grip.
He coughed, spattered, and smiled.
As warmth left his body
Warmth entered his soul.
His wound his ticket to Valhalla,
The Valkyries descended.
Valhalla, no place on Earth nor
Clouded spot in heaven.
Incomprehensible by human thought,
But in human thought itself exists.
For the prick of pride when his name at home is said,
There lays Valhalla, noblest house of the dead.
-------------------------------------------------
This was sort of a spur of the moment poem but I think the message is quite strong.
Any opinions or criticism would be gratefully received, cheers!
, in reply to message 22.
Posted by (( sean )) Free Nordmann (U2053581) on Saturday, 4th March 2006
it was Keith Douglas - the title 'Vergissmeinnicht'
Very good, but me being me I have to say I'm only very slightly confused betwwen whether Vallaha is a place or person.
Valhalla is a form heaven in Norse mythology. It is where those who fall in combat go, and the Valkyries are the mythical creature who escort the fallen warriors to Valhalla. Hereβs another one of my poems with a military theme;
Heretic
In the mild of spring they came,
knights in armour bright,
with rugged land of hills to claim,
and the heretic to fight.
The heretics were armed not to stay
and on the plain they met,
both sides upon their knees did pray
to make sacred blood they let.
As the mΓͺlΓ©e began to cease
Godβs verdict was made clear,
and before the sun rose in the east,
true became the heretics fear.
For they strung him up for the world to see,
the heretic they knew he was, the heretic heβll always be.
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