Anzac
A dark brooding shadow
Soldier standing alone
His head bowed in agony
Soldier standing forlorn
His creaking ship landed
Only one month ago
Now all his mates dead
Are buried on the knoll
His khaki clothes flutter
Flutter in a sea breeze
By day they bake
By night they freeze
His slouched leather hat
rests on his rifle
A Symbol of courage
One mustn't trifle
Illusion of war's glory
Has long passed him by
Now all that remains
Is death, dirt, and fly
Anzac, man of honour
He puts a letter away
Last words of the dead
Will shine again one day
He whispers a prayer
To return to his land
Far away, so far away
From this bloody sand
God fearing man
Now he asks why
Why did his friends
All have to die?
that was a question
He'd never ever fill
As he slowly turned
And went down the hill
Farmers and bushmen
Now as soldiers, roar
Stories become legends
ANZAC, man of war
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Mother’s Cry of Late
Where for art thou, soldier?
Out East? West? –
And when? –
What part your rabid history?
And why? –
What wrought your destiny? –
For whom
You’d wreak your enmity –
I crave your fate to pen!
What comprehension of the
Order? –
‘Listen up! you men!
Raze to ground the taken land!
See they die and e’er you’ll stand, for
Death is but a grain of sand –
The mighty triumph, medal grand!
Now go you well!
Amen! ’
What sight upon the bloody lie
Of war? – your doubtful fate.
‘Where for art thou, soldier? ’ –
Your mother’s cry of late.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
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 soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Anzac Square: What The Digger Said
Said the Digger: 'Soon forgot! Soon forgot, the deeds of war.
Better so, may be. . . Why not?
Beauty fades and laurels rot;
Last year's roses are no more.
Fame?' the one-armed Digger said,
'What of glory when you're dead?'
'Stone and brass,' the Digger said. 'Stone and brass: tho' these endure,
Marble flaunting o'er my head
Would be dead, as I'd be dead.
How may any man be sure
That the hearts of men shall hold
Memories of tales once told?
This alone I surely know: earth I am, and earth shall be,
Only Mother Earth can show,
When I go where all men go,
Aught of this that had been me.
Mother Earth, once stained so red,
She must know,' the Digger said.
'Would you raise, in braggart heaps, stone, cold stone, to mark the fame
Of full many a man who sleeps
Where the earth of Anzac keeps
Guard o'er legions lacking name
Plinth and pillar reared to show
Pomp and pride they cannot know?
'They ask no portentous pile, boasting to a heedless sky,
Stirring men a little while,
Subject, then, for sigh or smile,
Not for this do soldiers die,
With our passing let Pride be,
All we ask is Memory:
'Memory of such fair worth as a fighting man may claim,
And a plot of hallowed earth
In the city of our birth:
Earth that bears a hallowed name.
Let it be envisioned there:
Anzac worth in Anzac Square.
'Memory,' the Digger said. 'If so be the city judge
Soldiers worthy, who have bled.
Worthy of her love, the dead,
Shall the city, then, begrudge
One wide acre of her soil
For who saved the whole from spoil?
'Here, it may be, by God's grace, our son's sons may sit at last,
In the People's market place,
Knowing truly, as they trace
Memory of me long past,
'Tis enshrined forever there:
Anzac worth in Anzac Square.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In A Soldier...You Will Find...
In a soldier...
Loyalty and strength you see.
In a soldier...
Discipline, bravery.
In a soldier...
A world that is free.
In a soldier..
Sacrifice, so the world can be free.
In a soldier...
No compromise.
In a soldier...
Courage in his eyes.
In a soldier...
A special bond.
In a soldier...
Iraq, Viet-Nam.
In a soldier...
Sad, drooped eyes.
In a soldier...
Pain, when a buddy dies.
In a soldier...
Terrible places.
In a soldier...
Tough, grim faces.
In a soldier...
Stories untold.
In a soldier...
Action makes him old.
In a soldier...
Dark, frightening nights.
In a soldier...
Missing his lovely wife.
In a soldier...
Memories of a decent life.
In a soldier...
Scars deep in the mind.
In a soldier...
An exploding mine.
In a soldier...
The thrill of leaving war.
In a soldier...
No more pains anymore.
In a soldier...
No more tears.
In a soldier...
Leaving war, after a long, trying year.
poem by Philip Lore
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Anzac
Anzac! And war's grim storm . . .
The scream of a pass'ng shell
Torn earth, and - a quiet form . . .
'Pass, comrades. All is well.'
Nay, but his spirit lives; be very sure.
Year follows year, and earthly things depart;
But what he dying, gave us shall endure
Now and for ever in the nation's heart.
Now and for ever; tho' the flesh be gone,
Still shall that Spirit bid us, 'Carry on!'
Anzac! The mounds increase;
Marking where soldiers fell . . . .
Earth's healing scars; and peace.
'Sleep, comrades. All is well.'
And be full certain that they do but sleep,
Who, falling, yet were well content to find
Fit sanctuary in the hearts that keep
That spirit and that memory enshrined.
High on Gallipoli, lights that once shone,
Again flame o'er the ocean: 'Carry on!'
Anzac! The tramp of marching feet . . . .
The toll of a passing-bell.
Bowed heads along a city street . . . .
'Pass, soldier. All is well.'
Pass, soldier. When your dwindling ranks grow small;
When, one by one, old comrades you shall greet;
When the last, lonely veteran's footfall
Goes echoing adown this city street,
Still may that Spirit, tho' all else be gone,
Cry to our sons: 'Australia! Carry on!'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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What You Find
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!
TY bohls
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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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 Prayer
This poem is written for our soldiers over seas. May God be with them all.
A Soldier's Prayer
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Lord my God I pray;
for I am far away;
on a land, not my home;
I'm on my knees and all alone;
as I fight for freedom and peace;
I ask, 'Let this bloodshed cease.
I am fighting a war;
on a distant foreign shore;
fighting for my family and friends;
hoping that this would soon end.
I bow my head to a flag-draped casket;
to a soldier, not a rank past private.
I pray for salvation for all soldiers dead and gone;
as I continue to fight through the red of dawn;
for I fight what I believe is true;
I am but a lonely soldier living for you.
Forgive us Jesus for we have sinned;
I now end this prayer O' Lord, Amen.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Stand Alone Soldier
The Stand Alone Soldier
By: Ben McElfresh
I am the stand alone soldier.
I am the one who watches over you while you sleep.
I face this life head on standing alone.
The wind at my back, noone in sight.
I am the stand alone soldier.
I am the one who stands up for what is right.
I won't be pushed around.
I shall protect those who are.
Because i am the stand alone soldier.
My squad leader says to do this.
I follow my own rules and leave all behind.
You can trust me if you want.
If not, it's your choice.
Weather do you do not, i won't let you down.
I'll stand and fight until the night.
Or until the day i'm dead.
But as long as i hjave those who trust me.
I WON'T DIE!
poem by Ben mcelfresh
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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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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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My soldier
Standing on my clouds realm
Conquering his apex dares
Appetite his lavish manners
Appealing Him for more lion shares
You‘re drenching into dense dark
You would repent what you‘re
One day wish to Him! To take you step back
Oh my soldier, Oh my Love
Look upon my silence
Dying for my dearer
Dead in my prayers
Oh my love please turns around
Hold me forever in your arms
Dwell me in your heart
No more question just curl me up
That was poor agony deeds
Look forward what I need
Oh my soldier, Oh my Love
poem by Hareem Fatima
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Soldier standing on the rain
I’m the soldier standing in the rain,
Being paid cold, being paid illness,
At hours of darkness I don’t knock out asleep,
On the daylight I fear booms booming within the ace of me,
Fearing I might die for nothing.
Back home is a land of milk and honey,
Back home is what I may perhaps call paradise,
Back home is they are joyful and amused,
Back home they relax to sleep,
Back home they don’t be bothered a propos my family,
But me I’m here in the rain for them.
Timorous I may bite the dust for nothing,
Afraid I may let my foes comfortable,
Apprehensive I may implant my blood for laughs,
Frightened I may not have a mission, I may be futile,
Nervous I may, because nobody knows I am
The soldier in the standing in the rain.
I’m kicking the dust for nothing,
I’m living for zilch,
For people who don’t worry for me,
For inhabitants who don’t know me,
For citizens who don’t want to know me,
For public who won’t even be at my funeral,
For nation who don’t know a soldier,
I timorous I’m already in dead; I’m living only with flesh,
I’m the soldier in the rain
The author is a soldier dying for nothing and attention!
poem by Stephen Raseona
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The Bushman
When the merchant lies down, he can scarce go to sleep
For thinking of his merchandise upon the fatal deep;
His ships may be cast away or taken in a war,
So him alone we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
Who true bushmen are,
So him alone we'll envy not, who true bushmen are!
When the soldier lies down, his mind is full of thought
O'er seeking that promotion which so long he has sought;
He fain would gain repose for mortal wound or scar,
So him also we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
When the sailor lies down, his mind he must prepare
To rouse out in a minute if the wind should prove unfair.
His voyage may be stopped for the want of a spar,
So him also we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
When the bushman lies down, his mind is free from care,
He knows his stock will furnish him with meat, wear and tear.
Should all commerce be ended in the event of a war,
Then bread and beef won't fail us boys, who true bushmen are.
Then fill, fill your glasses, a toast I'll give you, then,
To you who call yourselves true-hearted men.
Here's a health to the soldier and e'en the jolly tar,
And may they always meet as good friends as we bushmen are.
Who true bushmen are,
And may they always meet as good friends as we bushmen are.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A Story of Two Soldiers
A story of a soldier, with a heart
Who came upon a dead Japanese soldier
With a letter sticking out his pocket, in the war
This soldier took the letter, obviously
The important treasure of the dead one.
He framed it and stored it;
Another man's most prized possessions,
Of a child's colored picture, and a baby's photo.
Years later, and someone notices
The framed paper, and suggests
Trying to track down the original family
And though it seems impossible:
The impossible is accomplished,
Through another soldier's care, though he was
A stranger to the poor dead soldier
He must have felt their close brotherhood,
As two soldiers engaged in a difficult war.
And there is a woman now,
Who cradles the picture she colored
As a small child; and her baby sister
In the photo at the top; also living, now an adult
She said, Father never returned to us
We never had a chance to know him
But now we know him; he's come back
We know who he was thinking about
At the end- this man gave our father back to us.
And the old soldier has a new friend now;
If you treat the other side's soldier as no less
Than your own family
His family will come to know you in time,
As truest friend,
And closer to heart
Than any grief could ever reach.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Shadow Of Your Love
Took my chances carelessly
choked on my own cigarette
You can hand me another bottle of whiskey baby
but you aint seen the worst yet
Now I'm reckless, gonna have some fun
and the woman who is dead
who was out alnight, no I'm not the only one
And I ain't standing, never standing
in the shadow of your love
shadow of your love
shadow of your love
shadow of your love
Wrote my changes helplessly
yeah but I got no regrets
Money it was on the table
so I booked with all the bets
Living like a lemon aint so hot
and you aint my idea
of one high-rollin' shot
No I ain't standing, never standing
Chorus
Big dark clouds hanging over your head
hope you've heard, baby all I've said
You've been told, what I've said
No use crying, you're as good as dead
Now I'm reckless, gonna have some fun
and the woman who is dead, who is out alright
now I'm not the only one
And I ain't standing, never standing
Chorus
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was a Soldier once
Old, tired, physically worn out,
With every move my muscles shout.
Woodworking, gardening, lazing about,
nothing to do but widdle and pout.
I was a Soldier once, large and strong,
I was a Soldier once, doing no wrong.
I was a Soldier once, fighting your war,
I was a Soldier once, mighty to the core.
I sit behind a desk now, slowly getting fat,
Knowing where I should really be settling my hat.
This civilian life I live, is so deadly to me,
I should, again, be a soldier, a sight to see.
I was a Soldier once, Yes Sir, No Sir, anything you say Sir.
I was a Soldier once; it was the life I preferred.
I was a Soldier once, leading from the saddle.
I was a Soldier once, living in my battle rattle.
Those that have never been one shall never know.
Those that put them down can basically go blow.
In this day and age, Soldiers protect our Freedom
In this day and age, everyone should be one.
I know this because,
I was a Soldier once, protecting you and yours.
I was a Soldier once, with back to back fighting tours.
I was a Soldier once, dying for the American way.
and although I was a Soldier once,
I should be a Soldier Now, fighting for you every day.
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Faces of war
I've been in war twice, and it is not pretty or nice
men and women put the uniforme on and it symoblizes strength
carrying all your gear and weapon not knowing when to pull the trigger
you're fighting with son or daughter of parents they love dearly
keep yourself and your follow soldiers alive and you must fight fiercely
blood will shed and bodies all laying every-where dead
at war noone wins, for God says thu shall not kill
countries send soldier to defend, and whatever the cost and at will
the pain and sorrow that brings to so many, the leaders have no clue
you are a number and expendable, soldier stick togother like glue
soldiers return with missing limb and undetected serious illness
soldier puts his/her life on the line at time kills, we need no forgiveness
at what cost, as we all know freedom is not free
we must do whatever it take, so we can be a free country
give thanks to a person in uniform, cause we're fighting for you
don't take anything lightly, a soldier does what a soldier need to do
poem by Michael Neguse
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Alone the soldier is....
Alone the soldier is...
lying on his bunk
in a unfamiliar land
thousands of miles from home
her picture at hand
his thoughts...
reliving old memories of home
his thoughts...
wondering, thinking of her
Alone the soldier is...
standing in the hot sun
in a unfamiliar land
thousands of miles from home
his rifle at hand
his eyes...
looking all around
his thoughts...
memories of home
Alone the soldier is....
at heart, at thought
thousands of miles from home
the 'Dear John' letter at hand
his eyes...
filled with watery tears
his thoughts...
wishing it were a nightmare
Alone the soldier is...
lying in his grave
in a dark cold casket
her picture at hand
his eyes....
see no more pain
his heart...
feels no more grief
poem by Anthony Scott
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