Military Death
He marched along
to the cadence of the drum.
He clenched his fists
so overcome
with sorrow and grief
and so much pain.
And as he marched
he felt the rain.
It fell with precision
like the tears in his eyes.
For a friend lives
and a friend dies.
When they reached
the final resting place
the final beat of the drum
did erase
all sound but the weeping
and his long deep sigh
as he gave his salute
and said goodbye.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
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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Final Thoughts
Final Thoughts
Sigh on to you just lost the blow
Sigh on to you
Sigh on to you My friend
Fell thoughts of soul's descend
Final Thoughts
Sigh on to you My friend
Might be is this the end
The pain hurts the fear inside
Kill be the weak to ride
Countdown to fossil down
Show Me the cancerous meltdown
???, the architects of life
???
Final Thoughts
Sigh on to you My friend
Might be is this the end
Sigh on to you
Sigh on to you
Final Thoughts
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Parantha’s Dream
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
The twelve year old boy
Parantha Parapanjani
yearned to be a drummer
in the Royal Indian Army.
Using two wooden sticks
and a biscuit tin so old,
he imitated the drummers
and their drum rolls.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
A thief stole his drum
leaving him with nothing to play,
but his father’s old tin leg,
stepped in to save the day.
From a string around his neck,
it swung about his waist,
as he practiced with the band
outside the military gates.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
One day a limping man and boy
walked down the busy street,
as Parantha drummed up
a leg moving kind of beat.
The regimental sergeant major
recognised the sound,
and saw the leg being played,
as it made its way to town.
So impressed was the sergeant
he enlisted the boy in the band.
A new side-drum he was given
and a stick for each hand.
He marched up and down
with his Indian army band,
so proud to be a drummer,
with a stick in each hand.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Beat Of Your Drum
Photograph king, watches you go
Now fashions may change, heaven knows, but you
Still leave a stain on me
Only to go colours may fade
The seasons may change, weather blows, but you still leave a mark on me
Wrong-negative fades-never the twain, reckless and tame
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat I beat it
I feel it
Disco brat-follow the pack
Watching you peel, heaven knows, prison cant hold all this greedy intention
Only to go-i picture you now
Music may change-hi-di-ho keen to follow your nose
Wrong-love out of tune
Sweet is the night, bright light destroys me
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
I like to beat on your drum
I like to beat on your drum
I like your face in the crowd
I like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
Cant beat it
I feel it
Ho beat it
I beat it
Oh yeah
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to yell it out loud
Id like to beat on your drum
Cant beat it cant beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like your face in the crowd
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Cant beat it
Cant beat it
I be there
Baet it all out
Beat it all in the crowd
Beat it beat it beat it beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to blow your horne
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Ahhhhhh
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Speaks To My Heart
Open door, breeze on my face,
I smell the rain, think of my friend,
He has passed, to another place,
His long struggle's reached it's end,
I feel this emptyness in me,
The grief is new, this final part,
yet there is comfort in this grief,
God must be speaking to my heart,
There is a fragile thread of hope,
that one day we will meet again,
the gentle thoughts that help me cope,
with crushing grief, the loss of friend,
and yet, think I, I keep the gift,
of every precious memory,
of all the time I got to spend,
that grew the love I'll keep with me
poem by Elizabeth Lindberg
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23feb Earth Swells Into National Cry Mourning
rain falls heavy
like an old friend
tears at funeral
hot dry
summer dust
tear fed
choked hearts
release pain
individual pain
earth swells
into national
cry mourning
steady drum beat
march on life
honoured resolve
new showers
quake
hopes broken
new showers
quake
solid memory
fallen
not forgotten
friendship
endures
love endures
drum beats
rain rain
is falling harder
many showers
tears cascades
torrential rain
falls fast intense
sound loud
continuous
emotion
outpouring
still a heavy rain falls
in our feeling hearts
to fill the cold silences
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Drumbeat Of War
The Drum Beat of War.
Smoke came from the mountain pass troops marched to the border,
general mobilizing declared, the old spoke of wars of yore the young
stopped slouching and looked around for the enemy. Ministers and
king wore uniform, laws were passed against a fifth columnists and
against anyone who had a different opinion than the norm; although
many were arrested no one was tried. War cry had brought order from
the chaos of democratic peace.
The jingoistic fever lasted all summer a good time for marching and
military parades, women wore flowers in their hair ready to kiss loved
ones goodbye. Fall rain, the north-westerly blew cold and war didn’t
happen, leaders congratulated themselves for winning the peace, and as
big snowflakes slowly fell so did our realisation that we open eyed had
marched into an open prison and could no longer travel anywhere, in
our country, without a passport.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Friend Is A Friend
A FRIEND IS A FRIEND
WELL BEYOND THE END
BECAUSE A FRIEND
LIVES IN THE HEART
AND IN THE SOUL
WHICH TURNS INTO
SWEET MEMORIES
WHEN YOU FALL APART
AND LOOSE CONTROL
A FRIEND IS A FRIEND
WELL BEYOND THE END
BECAUSE A FRIEND
SHARE A GOOD CHEERS
THROUGH SADNESS AND TEARS
LETTING YOU KNOW
THAT YOU HAVE A FRIEND HERE
A FRIEND IS A FRIEND
WELL BEYOND THE END
BECAUSE A FRIEND IS THERE
THROUGH SORROW AND PAIN
LAUGHTER AND SMILES
BECAUSE AT ANYTIME
A FRIEND CAN BE THERE
poem by Bruce Martone
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The Beat
Drum, drum, hear the drum
beating its beat
for what's to come.
It beats like your heart
a steady boom.
It slows sometimes
and then will resume.
And when the drum beats
can't be heard
and your heart no longer
can be stirred,
the silence reaches where you are
because the drum beat
is too far.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One final letter
This my final letter.
A letter of the end.
A letter that says goodbye.
A letter with answers.
Im sorry, relly i am.
Dont be mad or sad.
I couldnt cope with it.
Couldnt live life.
I had to get off the bumpy ride.
My life was over long ago.
Abused attacked used and raped.
Evil laughter all around me.
A sound that never goes.
Theres your answer
If you really care.
Let me go now
dont cry for me
Dont grieve for long
in the wake of my suicide.
Im so so so sorry
but this is the final goodbye.
I couldnt leave without an explination
I had to give you the reasons why.
Now the razors deep in my arm.
The pills are swallowed deep in side.
The blood is pouring from me.
Now im dead and cold
Stiff and limb.
I had to go
I just had to go
I didnt want to go
What else was I to do?
My very last
And final goodbye
Im gone now
No longer a lifes burden.
Please dont cry for long
Im gone
Im gone
GONE
Its the final good bye
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Dont Bang The Drum
Here we stand
In a special place
What are you gonna do here?
Now we stand
In a special place
What will you do here?
What show of soul
Are we gonna get from you
It could be deliverance
Or history under these skies
So blue
Could be something true...
...but if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we are in this fabulous place
What are you you gonna dream here?
We are standing in this fabulous place
What will you play here?
I know you love the high life
You life to leap around
You love to beat your chest
And make your sound
But not here man
- this is sacred ground
With a power flowing through...
..and if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we stand
On a rocky shore
Your father stood here before you
I can see his ghost explore you
I can feel the sea implore you
Not to pass on by
Not to walk on by
Not to try...
...just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just a-let it come
Dont bang the drum
Do you know how to let it come now?
Dont bang the drum now...
Just let it come now
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Bang The Drum
Here we stand
In a special place
What are you gonna do here?
Now we stand
In a special place
What will you do here?
What show of soul
Are we gonna get from you
It could be deliverance
Or history under these skies
So blue
Could be something true...
...but if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we are in this fabulous place
What are you you gonna dream here?
We are standing in this fabulous place
What will you play here?
I know you love the high life
You life to leap around
You love to beat your chest
And make your sound
But not here man
- this is sacred ground
With a power flowing through...
..and if I know you
Youll bang the drum like monkeys do
Here we stand
On a rocky shore
Your father stood here before you
I can see his ghost explore you
I can feel the sea implore you
Not to pass on by
Not to walk on by
Not to try...
...just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum
Just a-let it come
Dont bang the drum
Do you know how to let it come now?
Dont bang the drum now...
Just let it come now
Dont bang the drum
Just let it come
Dont bang the drum...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Drum
The red drum beats
when every other drum stops beating
every soul dance to the rhythm of life
from the pulsating ethos of the red drum
the red drum not only beats
when you listen, the red drum is talking
every stony heart has a sheath for a knife
from a gush on the tempo of the red drum
the red drum by nature is sexy
when your heart flutter and in frenzy
every stolen glance from your heartthrob
from the blushes irrigated by the red drum
the red drum is jealous and vindictive
when retrospect’s stab is aggressive
every soft spot, love and pardon flee
from dirges the red drum goes on spree
the red drum you should know is the heart
when in our short lives destiny plays its part
every promise given not to stray our drumsticks
from where we are identified as God’s handpicks
poem by Dela Bobobee
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Though hell should bar the way,
A friend is a friend,
well beyond the end.
Because a friend lives in the heart,
the soul,
which turns into sweet memories,
when you fall apart and lose control.
A friend, is SURELY a friend,
well beyond the end.
Because a friend shares good cheers,
through sadness and tears,
letting you know that you have a friend here.
A friend is a friend,
well beyond the end.
Because a friend is there to;
Bear pain,
bear witness to the fact that you care,
And gain,
Gain the fact that;
through sorrows, grief, and pain,
*though hell should bar the way,
share laughter and smiles,
well beyond a mile.
Because a friend can be there,
-be there.
Because a friend can be there
at any expense,
at any given time.
poem by Abigail Marie
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Adieu?
It’s time to say adieu, friend
It’s time to part our ways
It may not be final goodbye yet
We might see each other again, who knows, somewhere.
All the shared moments with you
All those laughter and tears we together had had
All the sorrows and relief we experienced
Will never be forgotten, I promise.
I’ll always remember you as one good friend
A friend who’s always patient and kind
A friend who’s there to reach out to and lend a hand
A friend so dear, who needs me and whom I need as much.
poem by Lilibeth Sacmar Apat
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Prelude
BY sunny market-place and street
Wherever I go my drum I beat,
And wherever I go in my coat of red
The ribbons flutter about my head.
I seek recruits for wars to come -
For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,
And the shilling I give to each new ally
Is hope to live and courage to die.
I know that new recruits shall come
Wherever I beat the sounding drum,
Till the roar of the march by country and town
Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.
For I was objectless as they
And loitering idly day by day;
But whenever I heard the recruiters come,
I left my all to follow the drum.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Sorrow Plays Through Me
An instrument of sorrow
Sorrow doth strum
The strings of my soul
And beat mine heart her drum
Sorrow weeps through me
And in me she seek
Love, enchantment and expression
So mine eyes leek
Thine tears, thou tears, mine tears
To water the joyous earth
With the sorrow of truth
And to new sorrow give birth
Sorrow, sweet, melancholic
Which adorn mine face with rain falls
Of power, of strength, filled with beauty
Surpassing human walls.
Pouring out of me,
For mine eyes to see
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Death Of Aliatar
FROM THE SPANISH.
'Tis not with gilded sabres
That gleam in baldricks blue,
Nor nodding plumes in caps of Fez,
Of gay and gaudy hue--
But, habited in mourning weeds,
Come marching from afar,
By four and four, the valiant men
Who fought with Aliatar.
All mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
The banner of the Phenix,
The flag that loved the sky,
That scarce the wind dared wanton with,
It flew so proud and high--
Now leaves its place in battle-field,
And sweeps the ground in grief,
The bearer drags its glorious folds
Behind the fallen chief,
As mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Brave Aliatar led forward
A hundred Moors to go
To where his brother held Motril
Against the leaguering foe.
On horseback went the gallant Moor,
That gallant band to lead;
And now his bier is at the gate,
From whence he pricked his steed.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
The knights of the Grand Master
In crowded ambush lay;
They rushed upon him where the reeds
Were thick beside the way;
They smote the valiant Aliatar,
They smote the warrior dead,
And broken, but not beaten, were
The gallant ranks he led.
Now mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Oh! what was Zayda's sorrow,
How passionate her cries!
Her lover's wounds streamed not more free
Than that poor maiden's eyes.
Say, Love--for didst thou see her tears:
Oh, no! he drew more tight
The blinding fillet o'er his lids
To spare his eyes the sight.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Nor Zayda weeps him only,
But all that dwell between
The great Alhambra's palace walls
And springs of Albaicin.
The ladies weep the flower of knights,
The brave the bravest here;
The people weep a champion,
The Alcaydes a noble peer.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Oh Lord Please
Oh Lord please
Ease my pain
My blood is running down the drain
My eyes are glimpsing hell again.
My breath is short
My love was bought
- With fleeting rhyme.
To stab a clown
Must be a crime.
No scars to show
No stars to glow
I fell so soft
Hands held aloft
Down on my knees
Dear Lord oh please
Ease my pain.
She treads across my heart again
By ballerina I was slain.
My head is filled
With words that chilled.
My final tussle
Has left me numb
No move of muscle
No beat of drum.
I'm staying down
At count of ten
I wear the frown
Of suffered men.
To die for love
Won't stop the rain
Oh Lord above
Please ease my pain.
poem by Kevin East
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