A Soldier Blue
A soldier blue once walked past me
With flag and gun for all to see
Shouts i hurrah for you are brave
Our King and country you will save
But as he marched i noticed that
Beneath his hardened soldiers hat
An empty stare that held the thought
Of all the horrors battle brought
He marched a line so straight and true
With comrades also dressed in blue
A sense of pride we all could feel
As on they marched from toe to heel
But as they disappeared from view
Their colours flying proud and true
Thought i of soldier blue once more
His stare that told the truth of war.
poem by Dave James
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Kargil Warfare
Words shall never describe
what a soldier is
with a family brave
loosing in wars
all they have
yet smiling to the nation's pride
such is what a soldier is
for when they came with guns and arms
the soldier faced it all
heads held high
for the nation
he was ready to die
such is the sacrifice a soldier makes
and yes!
words shall never describe
what a soldier is
Kargil was the place
this time the fight was for mother land
the soldier could not be held
he marched
without fear
smoke rose high
there on the dusty land
fought the soldier
with no fear of death
he knew beneath
he had to win
and yes he did
his land he saved
but lost many his friends
and we salute
bow our head
for our words shall never describe
what a soldier is.
poem by Areena Arora
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Brave Little Soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Soldier Fights
the soldier fights for the hippys rights to protest against that soldier
the soldier fights for the politions rights to send that soldier to war
the soldier fights for buisness mans rights to make money
the soldier fights for the policemans rights to arrest that soldier
the soldier fights for school kids right to know about past soldiers
the soldier fights to so that you may all sleep at night
the soldier fights for religion so that you may all belive what you wish
And yet the soldier fights on
the soldier fights for his flag, for his country, for his life
When Scarborough Had Land
I remember Scarborough proud Protestant and blue,
With portraits of a Queen near every pew.
No Sunday shops, no music hops, no liquor on display,
Where the Lodges and the Legions marched each Victoria Day.
Where ensigns flew, Union Jacks too, unique uniforms on parade.
A raucous rush of pompous pride by pals from every trade,
As they beat the drum down Danforth Road on the twenty fourth of May,
Out to the country and back by Byng, again on Dominion Day.
Those were loyal times before the war for king and queen and all,
For more than a few, this love did cause, their ultimate downfall.
It did at Dieppe and D-day too like their seniors at the Somme,
They died for king and country; they did it for a song.
And soon they were forgotten, those who fought for king and crown,
Though those lucky to return had saved the country and the town.
They would walk again forever with their flags flying high,
Marching medals of the heroes that no one could deny.
Except the town of Scarborough was down on the drawing board,
And those fields and sheep and meadows didn't fit the grand accord.
No newcomers paid attention as the veterans vied for space,
And their parades of marching medals only had an old-time grace.
And Scarborough changed by day and night from a township to a city,
Old soldiers faded fast and few and no one had much pity.
And the immigrants came in wave after wave from places far and wide,
As the soldiers went to grave after grave with their flags and faded pride.
But still a few survive today and I'm sure they are not pleased.
'bout the changes to the town and how Scarborough had been squeezed,
From a township to a city where no one cared for esprit de corps,
So they amalgamated with Toronto and Scarborough was no more.
And culture clash and bureaucrat and ever changing rules,
Of mandarin and moguls and Tamils dressed in jewels,
While traffic roared and the buildings soared sometimes to sixty stories,
Where women wrapped in saris sashayed in all their glories.
They had lost the town without a fight, those men from long ago.
And everything was centralized; they said to save some dough,
But the authorities had lied again; it was all politically correct,
And no one marched, no flags did fly and no one did protest.
There are sometimes you still can hear it, the distant drone of pipes,
And men in kilts still carry on, just watched by boys on bikes.
They're just a faint reminder now of the many marching bands,
When those with flags and medals marched and Scarborough had some land.
DEC 1ST 2010
poem by James Bredin
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Soldier's Ghost
I bled for you - would you for me?
I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'
I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?
My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!
I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?
Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier soldier war
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
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James Longstreet
With muffled drums and the flag that was furled
With the cause that was lost, when the last smoke curled
From the last old gun, at the last brave stand-
His soul marched on with the old command;
And the step was slow, as they bore away,
To await the eternal muster day,
Their old-time comrade, lost awhile,
But loved long since for the brave old smile
That cleared the way when he only knew
His ways were Gray and their ways were Blue;
And if for a time, he walked alone,
He's all right now, for 'Longstreet's home:'
Back to his old command he's gone,
With Lee and Jackson looking on,
And cheering him back to the ranks again
With the Blue and the Gray all melted in.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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A Soldier- Dedicated to Nicholas Shelton
There is discipline in A Soldier you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian - I am saying this to you..... next time you see A Soldier remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier - I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER Thank God for what YOU do!
I thought about you Mr. Shelton, I figured this is the least I could do to thank you my friend.
poem by Caleb Jones
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A Soldier's King
None seemed to notice the man beside the road
He was just a raged soldier out there in the cold
But he seemed to have a purpose only known to him
As he walked along the streets that night through the town of Bethlahem.
In his head he held a memory of all the wars he'd known
In his hand he clutched a medal for the bravery he'd shown
And the weight of every battle he caried in his heart
But his eyes were clear and searching for a manger in the dark.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight.
He had marched for politicians, served under their command
And he fought for all the causes that he did not understand
But it was something deep inside him now that led him on his way
With a single star to guide him to were the baby lay.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight.
He stood before the Son of God, come to pay our debt
He smiled up at the soldier that the world would soon forget
So he held out his medal and said this for you I bring
There he swore aligiance to the newborn baby King.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Henry
Air -- "Drummer Boy of Waterloo"
Young Henry was as faithful boy
As ever stood on the American soil,
And he did enlist, without a doubt,
When the rebellion was broke out.
He was his parents' only son,
And only child he was but one,
That was a girl aged seventeen,
Henry called her his May Queen.
Young Henry said, "Dear sister May,
What do you think my friends will say?
For now my name is on the roll,
And I down south will have to go."
"I hear my country's call," said he,
"For all her sons of liberty,
And I, forever, will prove true
To that dear old flag, red, white and blue."
"I love my father and mother dear,
I leave you, May, their hearts to cheer;
When I am gone, pray do not mourn
If I should never return home."
His sister then to him did say,
"My only brother, blithe and gay,
Our country calls, calls from afar;
May God protect you through the war."
Their father hearing all was said,
It made his noble heart grow sad;
"My children, I love both of you,
And yet I love my country, too."
"My son, if I was young again,
I never could at home remain,
And see my native land, now free,
Dissolved and made in slavery."
Young Henry left his father's home,
And left his friends for him to mourn,
A captain of a little band,
He marched away from Michigan.
In the battle of Fredericksburg,
Above the battle roar was heard,
"Fight on! fight on! brave boys," he cried,
"I am shot and wounded, and must die."
They placed his head upon the grass,
So he could see his brave boys pass;
"Go tell my father, Henry's slain
To keep him from the rebel's chain."
They dug his grave beneath that spot,
They wrapped him in his soldier's coat,
And while the battle drums they heard,
They laid him low at Fredericksburg.
poem by Julia A Moore
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A great soldier yet to be seen.....
The day when I met you
Your attitude impressed me in my mind and heart
You are known to everyone as a great yesterday
soldier for our country.
You were distinguished soldier, an officer,
a man among men.
You are the most valuable gift for our country
Your contribution to the World War II is unforgettable.
Your Knowledge on military is a precious gift for
our young soldiers.
You loved our country and you did the best for her.
Today, you are away from us, living by yourself
Your marched forward legs are stands still today.
You be the best what ever you are and where ever you are.
But the love you have shown on us will
cherish in our heart forever.
As bible says LOVE is patient and kind
and let that faith surround you.
You are a great soldier for the all time
and yet to be seen
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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American Soldier
American Soldier
When I say... 'I am an American Soldier'
I'm not shouting I'm better than you.
I'm whispering, I was a boy, and now
find myself a man.
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I speak not only of this with pride
I'm also confessing that I stumble,
make mistakes,
And need competent leadership to
help guide me,
So I in turn,
can be a competent leader.
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I'm not trying to be strong,
I'm professing that I am weak and
need the strength of my peers and
country,
To help carry me on.
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I'm not bragging of past successes
I'm admitting I have failed in the past
Admitted the mistakes and tried to
right the wrongs.
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But my country needs me,
and I soldier on.
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I can still feel the sting of pain, from
seeing those that I care about die,
While we fight for those that we love.
I have my share of heartaches,
So I call upon the American People to
help guide our soldiers, when home
When I say... 'I am an American
Soldier'
I'm not better than thou,
I'm just a simple man,
Who was called upon by his country
to fight.
By: Michael Anthony, Author of: Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq. (Available at your local bookstore or online at: www.MassCasualties.com)
[Originally inspired by a Carol Wimmer poem.)
poem by Michael Anthony
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Out Of The Blue
Verse 1:
Without you, without you
I always thought that everything was fine without you
Never knowing youd be mine
Suddenly my world has changed
And I just wonder why
All it took was just one smile
Chorus:
Now with you, out of the blue
Love appeared before my eyes with you
A dream come true
I never thought Id realize what love was
What love was, what love was...
Verse 2:
I need you, oh I need you
And everyday I love you more and more
Without you (dreams and tears)
I know what its all for
Suddenly I see you there
And everythings ok
Dont know why I feel this way
Chorus
Here with you
Bridge:
We are together now
Never take my heart away
All the love I found
Is here to stay (out of the blue)
Its like a dream come true
I never thought Id fall in love with you
Out of the blue
Love appeared before my eyes with you
A dream come true
I never thought
Here with you
Out of the, out of the, out of the clear blue
Oh, its like a dream come true
I never thought, I never thought
Out of the blue
Before my eyes with you
A dream come true
I never thought Id fall in love with you
Out of the, out of the, out of the, out of the clear blue...
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An American Soldier
Proud to be in the Army
A government Agent
Sent across the sea
This is an American Soldier
Dressed in a uniform
To show his allegiance
And weather the storm
This is an American Soldier
Sworn to protect you and I
Defender of freedom
and willing to die
This is an American Soldier
Given a secret mission
He completes his orders
Through strong ambition
This is an American Soldier
In foreign lands he attends
To the fallen soldiers
Whose wounds need to mend
This is an American Soldier
Upon his return he cries
Becoming a hero
He says his goodbyes
This is an American Soldier
Gratified our nation stands
With heads held high we aim
To honor this man
This is an American Soldier
A soldier is what you see
More than a warrior
He is part of me
This is an American Soldier
…This is my brother
An American Soldier
© 2009 Tracey Marquart
poem by Tracey Marquart
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The Irish Soldier
The Irish soldier, cast for fight,
Stood to his arms at dead of night,
Watching the east, until its ray
To the battle--field should show his way;--
Soldier, soldier, soldier brave,
You will fight though they call you slave,
And though you but help a bandit hand
Uncheck'd to kill in your native land.
The soldier thought on his chance of doom--
How the trampled sod might be his tomb--
How, in evening's dusk, his sightless stare
To the small pale stars might upward glare;--
Soldier, soldier, soldier brave,
You will fight though you think of the grave--
Though it yawn so near you, black and chill,
Honor and courage man you still.
And o'er his solemn brow he made
The Christian sign, and humbly said--
``Your prayers, good saints, if I should fall;
And for mercy, O Lord, on you I call!''--
Irish soldier, soldier brave,
You will fight, although you crave
The prayers of the saints your own to aid,
And the sign of the cross on your brow have made.
The morning broke--the bugle blew--
The voice of command the soldier knew,
And stern and straight in the van he stood,
And shouting, he rush'd to the work of blood;--
Irish soldier, soldier bold,
Thousands lay round you, crimson'd and cold--
But over their bodies you still fought on,
Till down you sank as the day was won.
And the Irish soldier now hath come,
Worn, and wounded, and crippled, home,
The hated, and slander'd, and scorn'd of those
Who safely slept while he faced their foes;--
Irish soldier, soldier bold,
In your native land you now are told
'Twas traitor--blood on that field you lost,
For you call'd on the saints, and your brow you cross'd!
poem by John Banim
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I Am Not Proud Of My Country
I love my Homeland Country and of it's scenic sights I sing
But I don't say I am proud to be Irish as proud has a patriotic ring
And those who feel proud of their Country often go that step too far
As pride leads to patriotism and patriotism leads to war.
I have never waved my Country's flag at parade or football game
And I am not Proud of my country though I love it just the same
For pride and love are different as different as can be
And pride that leads to patriotism has never appealed to me.
Some people on flag post in their front yard fly their Country's flag
And I am proud of my Country you hear them proudly brag
But others worthiness and cultures they never could embrace
And without saying so they are telling you that ours is a superior race.
I am proud of my Country you will never hear me say
Though many feel that pride and patriotism are good and quite okay
But how many young men have died in wars due to patriotic pride
Love brings people together whilst pride and patriotism divide.
I have never been a soldier or had honours to my name
And I am not Proud of my Country though I love it just the same
And those who feel proud of their Country can take that step too far
For pride leads to patriotism and patriotism can lead to war.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Soldier, Soldier
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Why don't you march with my true love?"
"We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
New love! True love!
Best go look for a new love,
The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
An' you'd best go look for a new love.
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
What did you see o' my true love?"
"I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did ye see no more o' my true love?"
"I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly --
But you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did aught take 'arm to my true love?"
"I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white --
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
I'll up an' tend to my true love!"
"'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
I'll down an' die with my true love!"
"The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im --
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Do you bring no sign from my true love?"
"I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!"
"An' I tell you truth again -- when you've lost the feel o' pain
You'd best take me for your true love."
True love! New love!
Best take 'im for a new love,
The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
An' you'd best take 'im for your true love.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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War Is Over
Old soldiers talk about the battles fought
To build a better world for me and you.
They sacrificed their lives to make a dream come true.
Now theyre forgotten men remembered by so few.
But the war is over and the fighting ended many years ago.
The war is over. the battles won but what is there to show?
Side by side they marched together fighting so their children
Could be free,
To build a better world, a new society
All classes unified to live in harmony
Now the war is over so lets forget and leave the past alone.
The war is over, its time for all the soldiers to go home.
Rich men, poor men make history,
Fighting for the land of hope and glory
A nations voice will sing as one,
A battle cry until weve won
The was is over and the patriotic comrades are no more.
The war is over
Now theyre going home to live just like before.
Arm in arm we sang our patriotic songs of love and sentiment.
Tears of joy to hide the sorrow,
New tomorrows till we meet again,
With a new world to build well say auf weidersein.
What did they do for us?
What did it prove to us?
As we stand beside the silent grave
The unknown soldier cant be saved.
The war is over
The war is over, its time for all the soldiers to go home.
The war is over.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March of Memories
Left, right - left, right . . .
We march today for memories (the grizzled Digger said)
Memories of lost dreams and comrades gone ahead
Comrades bloody war took, dreams that men have slain
(Left, right - left, right . . .) Not ours to dream again.
There was Shorty Hall and Len Pratt, Long Joe and Blue,
Skeet and Brolga Houlihan, and Fat and me and you:
Bright lads, the old bunch; eager lads and keen
That first day we marched down thro' this familiar scene.
Dreams were ours, and high hopes went with us overseas.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) And now 'tis memories.
We march again for memories (the grizzled Digger sighed)
Memories of lost mates, of foolish hopes that died.
First, Shorty got his issue on the beach at Sari Bair.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) The vision of him there
Brought the dawn of disillusion. I needed little more
To blood me to the butchery, the filthiness called war.
Shorty, like a limp rag, slung there anyhow,
Sprawling on the warm sand like I can see him now.
Always was a merry mate, a rare lad for fun.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Shorty, that was one.
We march today for memories; and they come crowding fast
As each year adds another page to the story of the past.
Pratt went west at Mena Base; raved of home and peace.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) His was a kind release.
For a Lone Pine shell-burst got him; and he was less than man.
'Twas a sniper's bullet bore the name of Brolga Houlihan.
We called him Happy Houlihan, the man who took a chance.
Then the Reaper paused and plotted for the rest of them in France -
Except Long Joe, the luckless, a youth ill-shaped for war.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Long Joe was four.
We march today for memories. Little else had we
When we marched home as veterans. Blue and you and me.
For Skeet went with a night raid, and none came back alive.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) So Skeet, he tallied five.
Five gone and four to fight; us and Blue and Fat,
Who vowed he was too big to hit; but a whizz-bang settled that.
Yet Fat was lucky to the end - an end that held no pain.
All hell erupted where he stood; and none saw him again.
And Blue marched, and you marched, and I, a war-torn three.
(Left. right - left, right . . . ) Marched with memory.
We march again with memories (the grizzled Digger spake)
One year? Ten years? How soon shall we awake
To glorious reality? For lately it would seem -
(Left, right - left, right . . .) - we march within a dream.
Where Shorty is, and Blue is, and Happy Houlihan,
That seems the only real land, with rest for weary man.
For Blue went out three years ago; and cruel slow to kill
Was the war-god, the grim god who claims victims still.
But you and I, old Digger friend, will soon march with the rest.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) In the Army of the West!
Today we march with memories, and years dull the pain.
But God help the young 'uns, mate, if they must march again,
(Left, right - left, right . . .) For the young must ever dream.
But we march with memories, and ghosts go at our side -
Len Pratt and Long Joe, whom men say have died.
And you walk like a ghost, mate; you do not turn to hear.
Or is it - Did the boys say you passed last year?
Out of this tangled dreaming has your troubled spirit flown?
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And I march alone.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True 007 Style
Joyously discovered my thick blue pen
writing in many colours can be my new
talisman, a necklace accompanying me
to the library as a blue aura around my
black-clad person, marched back to the
office in the same grim determination
not to eat anything that will aggravate
my too high cholesterol levels
The only food left so bland I prefer not
to eat at all, tried to take the blue pen
off for writing but the grey of my T-
shirt threatened to swallow all light
and delight; necklace-pen has to stay
repelling all black and grey - it also is
a secret weapon à la Q
The James Bond inventor, I can blow up
my boss so only her smoking shoes
are left - in true 007 style -
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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