Lasting Peace
They laid creeping barrage down
in preparation for the push.
It was a pearler Mrs Brown
and turned the battleground to mush.
The effing noise was deafening
and then the silence even worse.
I saw the sergeant beckoning
my fervent prayer became a curse.
The first lieutenant leas us though
over the top into the mud
We had no choice we had to go
. Though why I’ve never understood.
We couldn’t charge we had to trudge
There seemed to be no solid ground
the effing world was full of sludge
and if you fell you would be drowned.
We over ran a German trench
much like the one we left behind.
It had the same familiar stench
and like our own badly designed.
How I survived I do not know
But I got home still in one piece
I still feel guilty sometimes though
And seldom sleep the night in peace.
Remember then the fighting men,
The men like simple Sammy Brown.
Who lived to see his home again
unlike his mates who were mown down.
Though Sammy lived to ninety three
he never could forget the past.
He lies In Highgate cemetery
his epitaph reads Peace at last.
10-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
How Are You?
How do I feel? You'll never guess!
My life is just an effing mess!
It's all anxiety and stress
And it's getting worse, not getting less!
Perhaps I need some therapy?
Some soulful music or T.V?
Not Transcendental Meditation
But just some decent medication!
Or do I need a damn good drink?
It's better than an effing shrink!
Please God, give me some peace of mind
So I can leave these blues behind!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Computer Blues
What's this?
Are you taking the piss?
A night on the tiles
Has put an end to your smiles?
There's even a rumour
You've lost your famous sense of humour!
It doesn't really matter whether
You're in a bad mood or at the end of your tether,
It's enough to drive you effing beserk,
The effing computer doesn't effing work! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Mind your language Billy!
Old Billy just loved to swear
he really liked to cuss
he'd use bad language everywhere
in the street and on the bus.
He would even swear in church
effing that and effing this
when the vicar told him to stop
Billy swore and said give us a kiss.
He swore when he was stone cold sober
but even worse when he'd had a few
old ladies often told him to mind his language
but Billy would laugh and say screw you.
One day though he wouldn't stop cussing
so a Policeman arrested him on the spot
when asked in court why he was swearing
Billy replied because he was too effing hot.
Sadly Billy choked one day while he was eating
but even in death his swearing would never die
because on his gravestone are written the words:
I EFFING KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE EATEN THAT EFFING PORK PIE!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Sammy Im Sorry
sammy im sorry
sorry i didnt agree to being yours sooner
sorry for not telling you i loved you straight away
Sammy im sorry
sorry for causing you alot of pain
sorry for being the reason you couldnt see your daughter
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt believe you when you first said i love you
sorry i made us argue so much over nothing
Sammy im sorry
sorry i was so moody when you wernt around
sorry i missed you so much
Sammy im sorry
sorry i never said goodbye
sorry i never accepted you were dying
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt be by your side when it happened
sorry you had to handle it all on your own
Sammy im sorry
sorry your sisters are alone now
sorry i cant help them
Sammy im sorry
Sorry i cant move on
Sorry i cant do as you asked
Sammy im sorry
sorry im still crazy about you
sorry i cant leave this relationship
Sammy im sorry
Sorry i still love you when you thought it would stop
sorry i cant stop crying
Sammy I love you so much
Sammy im sorry
poem by Rachel BaByBeAr Anderson
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Sam's Ring
The other day our Sammy
Did a very silly thing:
She bought a can of pop
And then she swallowed up the ring!
We took her off to hospital,
So she could be x-rayed;
They couldn't find the blessed thing
But Sammy weren't afraid.
The radiographer she saw
Showed Mandy, (that's Sam's mum)
The picture of her insides,
From top, to tail, to tum;
She pointed out her organs
Just like a guided tour;
But where the ring had got to,
She couldn't say for sure.
There seemed no point in searching,
She said we'd have to wait
Until it worked it's own way out
At some near future date;
'But keep a beady eye on her,
In case it comes to pass
That little Sammy floats away
Because she's full of gas.'
Now Mr Peter Jordan
Is going to inspect her;
And on a daily basis
With his metal-can detector;
With luck there'll be no problem,
She's taken our advice:
Sam doesn't drink from cans now,
Those ring-pulls don't taste nice.
Written Jan 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Prayer For Peace
We got something don't you know it's true?
We got something don't feel it too?
We got something, we got something to do
Not a mushy line that I'm pushing on you
Just another blue-note sung slightly out of tune
We got something, we got something to do
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace.
It may appear that we've been sleeping through our years
And we've been living in an imaginary world
But we know what
We know what we got
And if the choice was your of love eternally
Or destruction of the world by some atomic energy
The you'd know what
You know what we got
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
We got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
We got we got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer For Peace
We got something don't you know it's true?
We got something don't feel it too?
We got something, we got something to do
Not a mushy line that I'm pushing on you
Just another blue-note sung slightly out of tune
We got something, we got something to do
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace.
It may appear that we've been sleeping through our years
And we've been living in an imaginary world
But we know what
We know what we got
And if the choice was your of love eternally
Or destruction of the world by some atomic energy
The you'd know what
You know what we got
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
We got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
We got we got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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38th Parallel
Once I lived in a village not far
from the thirty-eighth parallel
near Kaesong, in fact
The snow that February fell for days
blowing horizontally to the ground
hills and paddy fields filling with drifts
We lived, ten of us, in a hut
that smelled of kimchee and garlic
we huddled together on the warm floor
The sergeant in charge was from Chicago
a big-mouthed Irish guy from the South Side
he talked constantly about his gang back home
The North Koreans who ran the prison camp
grew to dislike the sergeant and our guys
we ate less and worked harder than the others
One night we talked it over with the sergeant
we told him that he had to compromise
and go along with our captors - or else
No doubt we angered him because
he got his Irish up and began striking out
an Italian guy from Hoboken put a shiv in him
We buried him next morning behind the messhall
the Korean in charge was pleased as punch
we ate better and worked a normal day
Today I often think of that hotheaded sergeant
who died in a foreign land because we were scared
and thought more of our own survival
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Waiting
Magdalen’s grounds
are full of life,
full of space.
Space, which is mown
and cleared,
tended and enclosed,
its waterways unchoked,
brown and sparkling clear.
It is home to ducks
and coots,
to dragonflies and deer.
Grass and paths and gates
and streams
and yesterday’s undergraduates
are waiting.
Not for the return of the past
nor the coming of an awaited future.
The past once gone
is a steadily fading photograph.
The future, once conceived,
is never as imagined.
No. They wait
for someone
with an empty heart
to play his part
without reluctance
or reserve;
to acknowledge
all this labour
of hand and eye
and the genius of the green and living.
To see
and bless
it all
and say, “Yes! ”
Then it can all begin,
the breathing out of being,
the eternal sigh,
the letting go at last
and surrender
to the sleep
of not being planned,
of not having to remember,
of not having to hold apart
future and past.
Of being at peace again.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Ode to Conformity
Do as I do, not as I say;
Find an effing way;
Go beyond the stupid teacher;
Be your own inner creature.
Run the glue onto the blue paper,
Then stick it firmly together;
On it draw a perfect face
In exactly the right place
So if you hold it up to a mirror
You'll see your own interior,
Your intelligence
That is your diligence,
And astounds the professor
Who now has become your confessor.
Get one job for effing life.
Get out of bed
And head for the rifeness,
Turning your back on the ol' blue paper,
Still the same
Still the same
Still the same,
Playing a newfangled game.
When you go out for something to do,
All you do is forget the glue,
And drink yourself into a stew.
Nothing is ever new.
Ever.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Coming Home
Ive not been home
For so many years
And I did not regret being gone
Please tell me when did we talk
And when did we show
That we do care for something called love
Oh no, dont you despair now
Im as grown up as can be
Cant you forget everything
And this time listen to me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you help me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you love me
Its time to remember
What weve done together
I guess it is more than we know
And we should be open
And turn back the wheels
As far as we can go
I know I am your son
And everything else dont seem real
I want you back like never before
I cant take another goodbye
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, cant you be there
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, dont you leave me
Whats dones done - Im your son
Ive been hurt by your lies
I want peace after all
Thats why I want you to let me come home
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - lets fight together
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Home - Im coming home
Im coming home - time heals the scars of the past
Im coming home
Im coming home - to be by your side
Im coming home - Im coming home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Im coming home - Im coming home,............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Songs
I heard an Angel Singing
When the day was springing:
"Mercy, pity, and peace,
Are the world's release."
So he sang all day
Over the new-mown hay,
Till the sun went down,
And the haycocks looked brown.
I heard a devil curse
Over the heath and the furse:
"Mercy vould be no more
If there were nobody poor,
And pity no more could be
If all were happy as ye:
And mutual fear brings peace,
Misery's increase
Are mercy, pity, and peace."
At his curse the sun went down,
And the heavens gave a frown.
poem by William Blake
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In the Pink
So Davies wrote: ' This leaves me in the pink. '
Then scrawled his name: ' Your loving sweetheart Willie '
With crosses for a hug. He'd had a drink
Of rum and tea; and, though the barn was chilly,
For once his blood ram warm; he had pay to spend,
Winter was passing; soon the year would mend.
He couldn't sleep that night. Stiff in the dark
He groaned and thought of Sundays at the farm,
When he'd go out as cheerful as a lark
In his best suit to wander arm-in-arm
With brown-eyed Gwen, and whisper in her ear
The simple, silly things she liked to hear.
And then he thought: to-morrow night we trudge
Up to the trenches, and my boots are rotten.
Five miles of stodgy clay and freezing sludge,
And everything but wretchedness forgotten.
To-night he's in the pink; but soon he'll die.
And still the war goes on; he don't know why.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Joey’s Job
In days before the trouble Jo was rated as
a slob.
He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job.
He'd loop hisself upon a post, for seldom
friends had he,
A gift of patient waitin' his distinctif quality.
He'd linger in a doorway, or he'd loiter on the
grass,
Edgin' modestly aside to let the fleetin'
moments pass.
Jo' begged a bob from mother, but more often
got a clout,
And settled down with cigarettes to smoke the
devil out.
The one consistent member of the Never
Trouble Club,
He put a satin finish on the frontage of the
pub.
His shoulder-blades were pokin' out from
polishin' the pine;
But if a job ran at him Joey's footwork was
divine.
Jo strayed in at the cobbler's door, but, scoffed
at as a fool,
He found the conversation too exhaustin' as
a rule;
Or, canted on the smithy coke, he'd hoist his
feet and yawn,
His boots slid up his shinbones, and his pants
displayin' brawn:
And if the copper chanced along 'twas beauty-
ful to see
Joe wear away and made hisself a fadest
memory.
Then came the universal nark. The Kaiser
let her rip.
They cleared the ring. The scrap was for the
whole world's championship.
Jo Brown was takin' notice, lurkin' shy be-
neath his hat,
And every day he crept to see the drillin' on
the flat.
He waited, watchin' from the furze the blokes
in butcher's blue,
For the burst of inspiration that would tell him
what to do.
He couldn't lean, he couldn't lie. He yelled
out in the night.
Jo understood—he'd all these years been
spoilin' for a fight!
Right into things he flung himself. He
took his kit and gun,
Mooched gladly in the dust, or roasted gaily
in the sun.
“Gorstruth,” he said, with shining eyes, “it
means a frightful war,
'N' now I know this is the thing that Heaven
meant me for.”
Jo went away a corporal and fought again the
Turk,
And like a duck to water Joey cottoned to the
work.
If anythin' was doin' it would presently come
out
That Joseph Brown from Booragool was there
or thereabout.
He got a batch of medals, and a glorious
renown
Attached all of a sudden to the name of
Sergeant Brown.
Then people talked of Joey as the dearest
friend they had;
They were chummy with his uncles, or ac-
quainted with his dad.
Joe goes to France, and presently he figure as
the best
Two-handed all-in fighter in the armies of the
West,
And men of every age at home and high and
low degree,
We gather now, once went to school with
Sergeant Brown, V.C.
Then Hayes and Jo, in Flanders met, and very
proud was Hayes
To shake a townsman by the hand, and sing
the hero's praise,
“Oh, yes,” says Jo, “I'm doin' well, 'n' yet
I might do more.
If I was in a hurry, mate, to finish up this war
I'd lay out every Fritz on earth, but, strike me,
what a yob
A man would be to work himself out of a
flamnin' job!”
Now Jo's a swell lieutenant, and he's keepin'
up the pace.
Ha “Record” says Lieutenant Brown's an
honor to the place.
The town gets special mention every time he
scores. We bet
If peace don't mess his chances up, he'll be
Field-Marshal yet.
Dad, mother and the uncles Brown and all our
people know
That Providence began this war to find a grip
for Jo!
poem by Edward George Dyson
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I Heard an Angel
I heard an Angel singing
When the day was springing,
'Mercy, Pity, Peace
Is the world's release.'
Thus he sung all day
Over the new mown hay,
Till the sun went down
And haycocks looked brown.
I heard a Devil curse
Over the heath and the furze,
'Mercy could be no more,
If there was nobody poor,
And pity no more could be,
If all were as happy as we.'
At his curse the sun went down,
And the heavens gave a frown.
Down pour'd the heavy rain
Over the new reap'd grain ...
And Miseries' increase
Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.
poem by William Blake
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Voice Of The Noble
Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble
Deserves to be carried all through the cable
Without keeping the message just on the table!
Voice of the noble cry for peace
Peace, multiplied peace all with ease
Curse of the world should surely cease
Look at the world as one and not in pliable piece!
Voice of peace is sure the soul of wisdom
Choice of the world is to reach God's kingdom
Where love and peace is bound to rule
Where faith and truth is every one's tool!
Voice of the noble seeks the world of peace
Noise of the wicked breeds the world of war
Peace indeed is the nature's choice
Peace indeed is the right man's voice!
Birds and trees sing for peace
Cruel and the wicked stink with strife.
The senseless inflicts war on nature
Least worried about grace of future
Nature revolts with quakes and storms
Millions suffer in pain and grief!
Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Back In Time
Last night; I went back in time
To see my wife if we never had met
I saw my ways, and my upcoming days
And my soul, was full of regret.
She wasn't there, but was in my prayer
As I surveyed the new life that I lived
And I walked alone, in my empty home
As my love for her I couldn't give.
I looked for her, and she couldn't be found
Last night when I went back in time,
So I searched her world, left nothing unfurled
But for her, nothing about her could I find.
So without me she took another path
Because then we had never met
But I stayed on that road, until I died old
Because no other woman in my heart would I let.
Then I had my thought when I awoke from my dream
And my woman she couldn't be found
So I closed my eyes and I sat down to cry
As my world was flipped upside down.
I remember now that she had left me
To be in the arms of another man
She was my love my life, my woman my wife
Now she's holding another mans heart and hand.
Why she left me; GOD will only know
But the love I felt once will never be mine,
I did nothing wrong, just loved her to strong,
Now again I wish, to go back in time.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Anthony, Bess, Clark, Diana, Edward, And Florence Are Returning Home
Returning Home
Those kids have nothing to worry about
The night is over
The castle has imploded into the sea
And the sun shines high in the sky
On this glorious countryside morning
They're going home at last
There's finally peace at last
Peace for Anthony
Peace for Bess
Peace for Clark
Peace for Diana
Peace for Edward
Peace for Florence
Peace for all their families now
The darkness is now gone for good
They're going home safely
They're walking home safely
poem by Justin Gildow
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Brown Eyed Handsome Man
(Berry)
Well, flying across the desert in a TWA, I saw a woman walking in the sand.
She'd be walking thirty miles en route to Bombay to meet a brown eyed handsome man,
her destination was a brown eyed handsome man.
Way back in history three thousand years, in fact ever since the world began,
there's been a whole lotta good women shedding tears over a brown eyed handsome man,
a lot of trouble was a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, the Milo de Venus was a beautiful lass, she had the world in the palm of her hand
she lost both her arms in a wrestling match to win a brown eyed handsome man,
she fought and won herself a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, a beautiful daughter couldn't make up her mind between a doctor and a lawyer man.
Her mother told her daughter go out and find yourself a brown eyed handsome man,
just like your daddy was, a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, a two, three the count with nobody home he hit a high flyer into the stand.
A rounded third he was a-heading for home,
it was a brown eyed handsome man that won the game, It was a brown eyed handsome man.
It was a brown eyed handsome man.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Now
I'm hanging out with me
And you're a vacant chair
A chosen compromise
This space we rarely share
And if you lived here you'd be home now
So what you givin' up for me?
And what shall I give up for you?
Aimless expectations passing by
If you lived here you'd be home now
If you lived here you'd be home now
And to make it real
I need to have you here
I need to have you
I need to hold you
Barren wasted heart
Neglect of normalcy
And if you lived here you'd be home now
Oh if you lived here you'd be home now
And to make it real
I need to have you here
I need to have you
It can't be sincere
Unless you spend time here
I need to see you...
Supervision is what I need
Some consistence
song performed by by No Doubt from Return Of Saturn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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