While on weekend pass
In 1988 when I was called up
for a military camp, to go to war
while doing duty in the operational aria
I got a lift with the Flossie (the mail plane) ,
to Waterkloof air force base
for a quick weekend pass,
and brought my kit
and sub-machinegun along
visited my fiancée,
got the key of her apartment
from the caretaker who was very patriotic
and waited in the apartment
as a surprise to her
when she got home from work
and took a quick shower
just after arriving, to be fresh and neat
and when I closed the tap
I heard somebody walking
around in the flat,
but immediately realized
that it wasn’t her
and thought that a intruder,
a thief or someone like that
had entered and that I would be able to
catch that person red handed
and only wrapped in a towel
around my hips, sneaked out to the bedroom
grabbed the R5 sub-machinegun
and rushed into the lounge
where I pointed the gun
threatening on the new maid.
Sufficing to say that on her very first day
she saw me armed with the military rifle,
gave one big yell,
ran out of the door screaming blue murder
and never was seen again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Not In The Next Few Chapters
I remember how 'old' people seemed,
When they were in their twenties.
And I was then a child...
With a wish to be a teenager.
And I remember walking on my toes,
Wanting to be taller than I was.
Or at least keep up with my father,
Whenever he walked to the neighborhood store.
And I'd walk behind him,
Thinking he was a giant.
And when I then became thirteen,
And my sister Mimmie was still eleven...
I got very bossy.
We were both 'latchkey' kids and...
Well,
I was grown...
I thought.
And I made sure she did things around our apartment,
I just was too 'grown' to do.
Like sweep the floors while I looked at TV.
She hated me.
I didn't care.
I remember being eighteen and being called a 'rainbow',
As the rest of the enlisted boy/men stood at attention...
After arriving at Lackland Air Force Base,
In San Antonio, Texas.
We were called 'rainbow'
Because we were still in our 'civilian' clothes...
And instantly demeaned.
That was their way of making sure we understood,
We were in the military and mom and daddy weren't around.
We were guaranteed to be made full fledged men.
Thirty came in a hurry.
And I had already been divorced and remarried.
And that was in 1977.
I don't know 'why' I didn't like my 40's!
Maybe because they came and went too quickly.
And I was 'still' passing for the age of twenty-five.
That didn't last too long.
In 1987 I got a phone call from my mother,
Telling me my dad was ill and she was concerned.
So as the eldest and only son,
I thought I would leave San Antonio, Texas...
Where I made my home then,
And make a quick weekend trip back to Hartford, Connecticut.
Well...
One very long weekend later,
It is now close to 2011.
My 40's and 50's were a blur.
And today at 63...
With both my parents deceased,
I am just NOW able to say,
I can enjoy every moment of my life consciously.
And feeling a whole lot younger than I look.
I know this may sound crazy, but...
I've got to relive something that I've missed,
Between my 40's and 50's I can remember...
Other than my parents passing away,
And my getting a divorce.
That was number two.
And...
With God's blessing,
I 'hope' not to do a number three.
Not in the next 'few' chapters I hope to write!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The military police
One afternoon
just after returning from work
there was a knock on the front door
and three military policemen
with flat orange hats,
and orange arm flashes
demanded to come in
and wanted to search my place
as somebody had told them
that I was a friend of someone
for whom they had an arrest warrant
for not turning up to camp
and the simpletons thought
that I was hiding him.
Being in the citizens force,
I intensely disliked the military police
and knew that he was quite safe from them
and showed them the gate
which made them really angry,
but they were furious
when I told them that I knew
where to find him
and that they could go
to the local police station
where he was on duty.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The visit
You were residing in Anne Fisher house
and I in Salisbury
at the private university
lying at the foot
of Helderberg mountain.
I bought a box of chocolates
early one night
at a Café in Somerset West
and they even wrapped it
and while the sun
was still high in the sky
I went to visit you.
The student on duty
called you
over the microphone
and suddenly you looked shy
but was quite happy
to see me.
We walked out on the ramp
leading to the foyer
and you had a white jacket on
and stood chatting
in the open,
and we were just
a guy and a girl
that was falling in love.
I could see the beach
over your shoulder
and the blue sea
but my attention
was on your smiling face
and your mesmerizing eyes.
You gave me a quick kiss,
just a peck on the lips
to say thank you
and my heart sang
but suddenly
a camera flashed
catching us.
A day later
I was called in
by the men’s dean
and he spread
some photos
on his desk
out in front of me.
There was anger in his eyes
and he said
that my ridiculous relationship
with you must end immediately.
If I went out of my way
to do something seriously wrong
I would have been able
to understand his reaction,
but for trying to date you
and for a moment
I was dumfounded.
“I have proof that you were
closer than three meters to her
and you even kissed her
and it’s totally against the policy.”
Before coming to University
I was called up by the military,
completed two years of service
and I wasn’t a boy
after seeing action in the war
in South West Africa
and in Angola.
I told him
that he just as well
can stop the ridiculous relationship
with his wife.
He was well built
and probably a fitness freak
and got up so suddenly
that his chair
went to the ground.
His hands was on my chest
and he rammed me
into the wall
pushing his face
into mine
screaming: “Say that again.”
My anger went away
but the calm was the same
with which I had faced
the enemy
and in my eyes
he saw death
coming on.
“Take your hands of me, ”
I said to him
and didn’t have
to say anything more
and he stepped away,
closed his eyes
and prayed for me
and then dismissed me.
[Note: The sun at times in summer sets at eight (20h00) in the Cape Town aria.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bob
I had a friend that took a blet, took a blet and hung himself
Hung himself in the doorway of the apartment where he lived
His woman and his little bro came home from the grocery store
Only to find him dangling in the apartment where he lived
I had a friend who shaved his head
Put his doctor martins on
And drew such wondrous pictures in the apartment where he lived
He praised my creativity, though he spoke sarcastically
Oh, the conversations in the apartment where he lived
I had a friend that took a blet, took a belt and hung himself
Hung himself in the doorway of the apartment where he lived
Rock, she thought him spiteful; ler, he thought him pitiful
Me, Ive never been back to the apartment where he lived
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The gamblers
One rainy night at a border camp
in the operational aria
I walked past a tent
and while the wind flapped open one side
a lightning bolt slammed down
into a tree near to me
sizzling with blue sparks flying
before it thundered cracking
and I saw some young soldier boys,
a group of troops
about the same age as I
sitting around a table
dressed in military vests
and brown military long pants
drinking brandy from a bottle
that they passed hand to hand
and I thought that they were probably
playing cards
or some sort of gambling game
when I heard the clicking sound
of the cylinder of a revolver being spun
and a dull click in an empty chamber
and knew which game was on
and walking right in
I took the gun from the next one
after it had again been spun
aimed it at the ground
next to the entrance and pulled the trigger
and the gun went off
with a bullet kicking up wet sand
near to the group of us.
Sheer terror had brought soberness
to the group
and those men were silent
with their eyes on my officer’s pips
and I took the revolver
and first thought about arresting
the lot of them but left them
to be sorted out by a sergeant
who followed me in
after admonishing them
with a very stern warning.
The very next day we went into action
were taken out
in some choppers
right into battle
and at the dropp zone
two rockets flew over my head
just after the last helicopter had lifted off
and the game was still on
for the brave young men
who accompanied me,
Russian roulette
with a bullet through the head
from a AK-47
or living on instead
from missed enemy shots.
[Reference: The gamblers by Anthony Delius.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Mans Ceiling Is Another Mans Floor
Words & music by paul simon
Theres been some hard feelings here
About some words that were said
Been some hard feelings here
And what is more
Theres been a bloody purple nose
And some bloody purple clothes
That were messing up the lobby floor
Its just apartment house rules
So all you partment fools
Remember: one mans ceiling is another mans floor!
One mans ceiling is another mans floor
Theres been some strange goins on
And some folks have come and gone
Like the elevator man dont work no more
I heard a racket in the hall
And I thought I heard a call
But I never opened up my door
Its just apartment house sense
Its like apartment rents
Remember: one mans ceiling is another mans floor!
One mans ceiling is another mans floor!
Theres an alley
In the back of my building
Where some people congregate in shame
I was walking with my dog
And the night was black with smog
When I thought I heard somebody
Call my name
Ah-- remember: one mans ceiling is another mans floor!
One mans ceiling is another mans floor!
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Going to church
I was called up to a military camp
and we were in tents in Parrow
and I was seconded to a special unit
on our way to De Brug
from where we would go to Luhatla
and from there to war in Angola
and although we were guarded
by marines
some guys at night sneaked
through the patrols
and I could have accompanied them
if I wished,
but they visited paid girls.
Time after time I had requested
to be transferred to a unit in Pretoria
where I lived,
but my letters came back
stamped request denied.
I asked to go to church
instead of attending prayer parade,
and my request was granted
and I got pass for the day
on condition to get a lift
and I called a doctor
friend of mine.
He fetched me with his Alfa Guiletta
and we went to Tygerberg church
where I was a member when we
were still married.
One of the girls
was very friendly
and was blonde, quite lovely
with a awesome smile
and a short black mini skirt
and she came to sit
right next to me
and I still remember
her long legs.
That day almost came
to a halt for me
when you walked in
with your husband
to have your
newborn son blessed in
and I couldn’t take my eyes
away from the pair of you
and saw your parents
and even his.
You were more beautiful
than I had remembered
but looked quite nervous
and the baby looked great
and at first I was quite angry,
at life, at your happiness
but seeing you there
did something to me.
The service was better
than most
and the blonde
invited me to the flat
that she shared
with her sister
where we had lunch
and she was really nice
and my spirits were high
and I was ready to fight
any war after this.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh God, I Wish I Was Home Tonight
(rod stewart / chen, savigar, cregan, grainger, 1980)
The rain poured down the wind swept avenue
On another dark wet december afternoon
All my cherished memories are of you
All my warmth and comfort stayed with you
I would have wrote you a letter
But the telephone calls are free
Cause the boys in the next apartment
Are working all day
Theyre a great bunch of guys
But I think theyre all gay
What am I doing
Avoiding what Im trying to say
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
With you in my arms
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Send me a naked picture
By the u.s. mail
Write a pornographic letter
You know I wont tell
Keep your legs closed tight
Keep your body under lock and key
Stay home at night
And save all the best parts for me
Yeah baby
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Yes I do baby
Oh God I wish I was home tonight, oh
I could be home in time for christmas
If you want me to be
Theres a plane leaves here at midnight
Arriving at three
But Im a bit financially embarrased
I must admit
To tell you the truth my honey
I havent a cent
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Tonight baby
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Guess Id better ring off
Before the boys get home
My regards to all your family
And everyone at home
Theres a lump comes in my throat
And a tear I cant hide
Cause I want to see you so badly
I just may die
And you know why baby
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
With the ones that I love
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Oh God I wish I was home tonight
Oh my God I wish I was home tonight
Tonight, tonight
Ive been hearing voices
Out on the street
They say youve found some one else
Whos really quite neat
But he doesnt move you like I do
Tell me what I wanna hear
That it just aint true
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To have a girl like you
I remember you coming
to Pretoria station
to say goodbye
while I caught the train
to a military camp
and four months of war.
The clock on the wall
showed that we were
half an hour early
and I bought you a can of Coke
at the café
before we walked
to the right platform
where the train
departing to Cape Town
had just come in
and I carried the brown duffle bag
and was dressed in my brown uniform
with shining boots and beret
and your big blue eyes
had a life of their own.
It was always first Cape Town,
then De Brug (at Bloemfontein) ,
next Luhatla and after that to war
and by then you knew that route.
There was a sad smile on your face
and you were beautiful
in a classical way and slender
and I gave you a hug
and a goodbye kiss
and when that train left
we both waved.
Other soldiers where also
looking and waving at you
and some to loved ones
and another officer said
that I was lucky
to have a girl like you
and the next goodbye
was at Waterkloof military airbase,
but you wouldn’t be in it
and I didn’t know it then.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Used to be Hero
Patricia,
Do you know? Do you remember? Things from long ago? Do you know that you used to be my hero? The person I thought I could always talk to? Do you remember when I called you mom?
I wish this letter was addressed to her; the woman I called mom; my hero. I used to think about asking dad where did you go; then I realized he was never there. So instead I realized the appropriate question for him is 'where have you been'. It was my hero who left me. It is you I must ask 'where did you go'. You used to be my hero.
Once upon a time,
You lived in Newell; Dad lived in Nisland. Matt and I we were at your house for the night. Mattie slept in our bunk in the back room. I slept on the floor in the livingroom. To raised voices I awoke. Daddy was drunk and you were fighting. You told him to leave and he grabbed Mattie. He took him out to his truck and you locked him out. To the door I ran screaming for Mattie, scared for my little brother. Not caring for my safety. You locked the door and pulled me back. Daddy soon was at the door screaming and pounding at the door for you to let him get his stuff. You ignored his rants and raves and called the police. I watched from the door as they arrived and Daddy, he put up a fight. The cops asked once, they asked twice, soon he was on the ground and put in vice. On his wrists they slapped the cuffs and dear little mattie was brought back to us. In the back of the police car Daddy went.
The End
That night you were my hero. You kept Mattie and me safe from Daddy when he was drunk. I only have one question for you now. Where did that Mommy go? My hero.....the person who was supposed to teach me everything in life. Your life seemed to fall apart in front of my eyes, but I did not see your pain. Only the pain inflicted on Mattie and me. I wish you could still be my hero, but that was lost a long time ago.
.
poem by Cathy VanDorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Army Dub
From the bed to the car
Let us stick to you now and then
Move on, move on
Out of school, into home
Let us swallow you whole
Or just hold on, hold on
We were close
Army dub
Not as quick as you run, you run
You run, you run
Brand new shirt
Knackered shoes
Coffee made, office blues
And then run on, run on
Well, who's gonna take it like this?
No way
You are, you are
You are, you are, you are
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
You are, you are
You are, you are, you are
The one-armed man
The one-armed man
The one-armed man
The one-armed man
The one-armed man
The one-armed man
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
From the bed, in the car
Let us shower your heart
And then move on, move on
It's the one fatal flaw
Let us swallow you all, you all
You all, you all
We were close
Army dub
Not as quick as you run, you run
You run, you run
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
I said, you are, you are
You are, you are, you are
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
I said, you are, you are
You are, you are, you are
(Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way
Who's gonna take it like this?
No way)
You are, you are
You are, you are, you are
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Out of military boots
Out of military boots
I come moulded to be a different person
and in nature could finally find some serenity
with the hot sun blazing above me
catching the birdcalls on the breeze.
From battlefields I did rise,
astounded to be still living
with hundreds of stories
of fools and very brave men
and the silence is almost deafening
with no rattle of any light-machinegun
no exploding rocket propelled shells
and I dream about a world
that is free form any disharmony
where the judgement day,
the outbreak of war,
exists no more
and everyone is free
to live a life in respectability.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Terrifying Enemy
Two weeks after I graduated from high school,
I was in the Air Force.
Patriotic and eighteen.
Scared as hell during basic training...
But ready to kick plenty of ass!
And working hard during the week,
To receive a weekend pass!
Time seemed less urgent then!
We knew we would accomplish things!
And certain we were we would win!
Fourty-three years ago...
I wanted it known I wished to save souls then.
I wanted to be a pilot and fly,
But I became a poet with a pen!
And times have changed since then as well!
Now it is not clear,
Who is fighting for what and 'why' it should matter?
We have consciously let our treasured ideals...
Lose it's appeal to keep falsities,
In minds scattered!
And those with barely any military experience at all...
Have taken my home,
And given it away.
For a price we all now pay!
Greed has been that terrifying enemy,
That has brought upon us a failure.
Greed has been that terrifying enemy,
That has brought to us this grief!
Greed has been that terrifying enemy,
That brings us no relief...
To cease and/or free us!
Greed has been that terrifying enemy,
That has been camouflaging peace!
And the awareness of this has increased!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Drying of Hair.
Jane's mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard
after you had been caught
in the rain
running from the church porch
to the parsonage
and then she went off
to carry on
with her pie making
and Jane took you
along the hallway
to her bedroom
and opened the door
and after you had entered
she closed the door
with a soft click
and you both stood there
in the quiet room
rubbing you heads
with the towels
pushing away
the wetness
from your hair
and you smelt the room
the smell of polish
the lavender scent
the smell
of fresh linen
and smell of the flowers
outside caught still
in the rain
and Jane said
You are only here
because she trusts you
she seems to see through
people's veneer
and weighs them
in the scales
in her mind
and you stood still
rubbing your hair
looking at her
the way she had
the towel in her hands
over her hair
the hair all messed up
and she having
that sparkle in her eyes
like the first spear
of the sunshine
pushing through
the window at dawn
and she gazed at you
with her eyes
like polished marbles
and her words
hung there
on the air
like musical notes
on an invisible stave
and you said
I'm glad she trusts me on
just the one look
and Jane smiled
and kissed your lips
her flesh on yours
and the pressing
of skin on skin
and she gently
moved away
and pointed to the sky
and said
Looks like more rain
and you just nodded
wanting her to kiss you
once again.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Return to Monterey
Twenty-two ticks gone by
Wondering till this year why
I would come back to nothingness
A joy to visit none the less
The sandy beach where I once called
Home
Just a simple release
From the military madness
They tore down my base
Where I was training for a war
Walking for peace
Seemed such a waste
There's a college now there
What is to be learned?
Where will the next brain come from?
Should I care?
Just a beach I called
Home
Where I did run free
Just for a brief moment in time
In my boyish
History
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I saw private Spencer going to war
I saw private Spencer going to war
and his eyes were lonely or so I thought
as he never got a letter
on that godforsaken camp
and he was forever stuck in thought,
reading his Bible, or cleaning his rifle
as if he was in a world of his own
and I worried about that lad
wondering if things at home were going bad?
But when we returned to civilization
and cleared out to go home
the most beautiful woman kissed him hello
and I realized
that he didn’t understand life and war
and the killing that it brought
and to tell the honest truth,
neither did I.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johnny Goes To War
At the age of eighteen
just after writing his final matriculation exam,
Johnny is called up to do military service
and when the pickup on the farm
have two flat tyres
and Johnny cannot get to the station in time,
he is fetched by three broad shouldered
military policemen who initially
want to arrest him
and shove him into a waiting military pickup van.
In the army he receives food
that gives him stomach flue
and for the first week
is almost stuck to the loo
and the mash potatoes
coming from a packet as powder,
runs into everything and has no salt in it
while the Colonel, the officers
and non-commissioned officers
have a feast in their mess,
having roasted beef and chicken
and eat as if they are truly blessed
and his hair is cut just above the scull,
he’s forced into an overall,
feels and looks like a criminal
while the instructors, the officers
and commanders wear normal uniforms
and he is chased up and down,
has to run to some trees
three kilometres far and back,
to bring a leave
and every time it’s not the right one
and the passing black citizens
at the railway tracks and on the road
shake their heads
and think that white men are nuts.
Day and night the instructor
slanders and curses at him,
he is put on duty
to guard armoured cars and trucks,
forced to run with poles and truck tyres
and to be just like his fellow military men,
even his girlfriend’s love letters,
are read by the instructor to the rest of them
and he is given a rifle and taught to love it,
while the instructor makes sure
that he knows the difference
between his rifle and his gun
he is forced to sleep with it like a fiancé
while movement and fire tactics
is being drilled in,
while life bullets whistle past him
and a bit later he knows about hand grenades,
mortars and rockets
and then he is shipped out
by train, truck and helicopter
to the war on the border
to meet the enemy
who is waiting for him
and while on patrol with some Unitas
he faces Cuban armour, a huge battle tank
and fires a rocket propelled grenade
at point blank range straight at it
and the trooper next to him,
looses his head, it’s blown off
and Johnny is scared out of his wits,
wishing to be dead
but forced into another firefight instead.
When after two years of being a soldier
he gets home
Johnny is totally nuts, bomb happy
and nobody knows him
when to his mother, his girlfriend
he is is somewhat strange
while life in the town goes on
like it did before
and Johnny becomes a farmer
and trusts in the Lord,
cares for his cattle and sheep
and not one night he can sleep right through,
without having a nightmare
and the president PW Botha, his whole cabinet,
the military officers have a great life,
ignores his mothers letters,
doesn’t care about her tears,
about Johnny’s state of mind
and before long
he is called up for a military camp
and when he doesn’t appear
he is fetched by the military police
and sent back once more
to war, to killing and death.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Come Back To Me
(lerner / lowe)
Hear my voice
Where you are
Take a train
Steal a car
Hop a freight
Grab a star
Come back to me
Catch a plane
Catch a breeze
On your hands
On your knees
Swim or fly
Darling please
Come back to me
On your mark
Now get set
Hop a mule
Hop a jet
In a towel wringing wet
I dont care
This is where you should be
From the hills to the shore
Ride the wind to my door
Turn the highways to dust
Break the law if you must
Move the world
Only just come back to me
Must I yell til Im blue?
Where are you and will you
Come back to me?
Have you gone to the moon
Or the corner saloon?
In rome or rangoon
Im a wreck
Where in heck can you be?
In a crate
In a trunk
Half asleep
Roaring drunk
In a rolls or a van
Anyway that you can
Id be so nice to come home to
Lover come back
Come back to me
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Old Footlocker
My footlocker holds another world
in which I like to travel,
And my thoughts seem to be real
as slowly they begin to unravel.
An old military footlocker tightly packed
with memorabilia of former bases
look travel-packed and offers me
a fantasy ticket to former places.
Outmoded garb folded neatly
suggesting early military styling,
and instantly my present thoughts
with military service are reconciling.
A footlocker filled with many memories
transfers me from this present plane -
with eyes half closed, in humbleness,
I am a soldier again.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I think most Americans believe that although it's better not to use military force if you can avoid it, that the world simply doesn't provide us the luxury of giving away military force as an important tool of foreign policy.
quote by Robert Kagan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!