0015 Aftermath of War
Within themselves, they hold
more than any man or woman should be asked to hold;
they are the unsung heroes of the peace
which clutches at the coat-tails of a war;
and we can never truly know them;
only offer them love, support, respect…
My first school had been an officers’ recuperation hospital
or final hospice for the wounded – in their body or their mind -
in the 1914-18 war; now
the dignified head doctor of few words
and his beautifully-mannered, voluptuous
ex-head-nurse wife
had made of it an ideal, loving school
for the new children of a new era after
‘the war to end all wars’…
The last resting place of warriors with screaming silent minds
who could not recuperate or
who found death so much more peaceful than their life
became, first the art room,
then the chapel: death, art, God and life
all together in one room.
My second school had as its teaching staff
several ex-officers who had chosen to shroud their memories
in teaching that new generation; but ironically,
were asked to run the cadet force which was
intended to preserve that lovely peace..
the sergeant-major who taught us PT and defensive war
had a face that was a repulsive souvenir –
like camouflage – brown, red, livid white,
almost the yellow-green of mustard gas
that had painted war upon him;
though he saved his lungs…
fine, stern, stiff-upper-lip teachers
shrouding their memories, until
some pupil tested them too far –
then their anger spilled, their canes and swagger-sticks
fiercely wielded, were memories for those (not us) who knew,
of discipline that might shoot at dawn
for the sake of lives then saved at dusk…
today, they’d be hauled into court for passing on 'abuse';
we were taught by heroes.
My third school gave me a housemaster,
another unsung, unsinging hero, a confirmed bachelor
so we thought, who likewise buried unknown memories
in devoted teaching; few clues except
the same occasional, devastating temper when aroused;
in his modest study, a few small
muzzy photos in silver frames, of comrades – dead or alive?
or did it matter? In his late fifties or even early sixties,
some inner torment of his memories transcended,
he surprised us all by marrying happily and producing
a large family. And once again, we had little clue
about the war he fought; or whether the nights
brought him tormented dreams…
We were taught by heroes who were asked to hold
more than any man or woman should be asked to hold:
do we wish – or should we wish –
that we knew then what we guess now?
They, teaching us from all their memories of hideous war,
how to grow up in peace; only to see
a generation of those same boys and girls
demanded by another war..
Autumn again; brown leaves fall like green lives;
soon, November mists and poppies
red as blood, red as children’s blood
from a terrible union, of heroism and futility
called war.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
The Old School House At Ruby
In old school house yard at Ruby a dark brown shorthorn cow
And leghorn pullets cackling beneath the cypress bough
This school must hold good memories and memories live somehow
Here in their lunch hour children played but where are those children now? .
The old school room now a tea room has undergone some change
And if past pupil came back here he'd find the place quite strange
Where is the desk he sat at? the blackboard is not there
And time has brought change to Ruby as it has done elsewhere.
The old school house at Ruby a memory of past years
Here Ruby children sang and laughed and shed their fledgeling tears
And do those children of Ruby who now live far away
In dreams return to old school house and Ruby childhood day? .
The old school house at Ruby a memory of the past
And time has brought about some change and time bring change too fast
This school must hold good memories and memories live somehow
Here in their lunch hour children played but where are those children now? .
poem by Francis Duggan
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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I Sent My Child To School Today
I sent my child to school today
With his little lunch box
When he came home he said his friend
Had gotten the chickenpox,
I sent my child to school today
And asked him what he learned
He told me about firemen
They taught him how not to get burned,
I sent my child to school today
He said, 'Do you know what they taught me? '
He told me they taught him numbers
As well as his ABC’s,
I sent my child to school today
A smile on his face
I gave him a kiss and a hug
And said, 'See ya funny face! ',
I sent my child to school today
His smile bright and wide
But an older child brought in a gun
How did he get it inside? ,
I sent my child to school today
As in every day
But the child with the gun started shooting
The reason? No one could say,
I buried my child after school today
All I can do is cry
I lost my child at school today
And nobody can tell me why.
poem by Doug Hollywood Davis
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Silver Treetop School For Boys
Heres the town in which I live petunia green
Heres the shop and heres the man who sold me laces for my shoes
There is mr.marcus. boys they say hes mad
heres the battle that they won silver treetop school for boys
Early days were good as gold
An apple here an apple there
And everywhere a yes sir, no sir
They made me roll the cricket pitch once a day
Ive never been so happy than at silver treetop school for boys
The mowing machine was leaving small piles of grass
That when the ? ? ? had risen to the pipe of mr.marcus
The smell of teaching fell upon the cricket field
Smiling, laughing, rolling about at silver treetop school for boys.
Hey there
They call in the staff room
They call in the canteen
Hey come and look at what I found
I found some boys and masters sitting
On the cricket ground at silver treetop school for boys
The english master, sir, he wores a purple mask
And the head, was usually sad, was swinging from a tree
Mr.brown the physics man is off his head
And everyone just loves the grass at silver treetop school for boys
Lalalalalalala lalala lalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalala
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
I have nothing but memories of you and I,
I once cried out for you, once shed blood for you,
It didn’t bother or cared enough for you to see how much I truly cared for you,
When I go to the mall I have memories of how we first met,
When I enter the movies I have memories of you and I hold hands and watching a movie,
When I go to a certain spot I have memories of how you and I first kissed,
But this is nothing but memories of you,
When I sit out in the cold,
I told myself I won’t fall for you,
Yet I did,
I have fallen,
Fallen for you,
Everywhere I go I have fond memories of you,
Memories that just won’t fade away,
Memories that can not be erased,
Memories I shall forever keep,
The memories of you will help me out,
Memories of you will teach me a lesson,
A lesson I won’t forget,
The memories that you and I once shared will forever be locked away.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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You'll Repeat Those Same Old Mistakes
Memories can be precious while others are rued,
Some can play games with your mind,
Many can even be misconstrued,
While others can and do make you blind.
Recollections are what teach us all we know,
They are part of our reason for living,
What we learn from them dictates how we grow,
Though some can be so unforgiving.
Bad ones we tend to want to forget,
Good ones we all want to last,
Whether it's with fondness or deep regret,
They're an integral part of our past.
The secret of memories is they come from within,
Why so when they're made from without,
Separating good from bad, where do you begin,
Though it's a must to get rid of self-doubt.
You can't discard memories by throwing them away,
Although for some it'd be great if we could,
Throughout our life reminiscences hold sway,
If only they could all be good.
They predetermine what our future will hold,
By separating right from wrong,
Our interpratation determines how our lives unfold,
By teaching us where we belong.
The very nature of memories can irk and annoy,
Dealing with them is what you must learn,
You must deal with what hurts and the good then enjoy,
Don't let the bad ones cause you concern.
If from hurtful memories you try to hide,
Then the devil inside you awakes,
By trying your damnedest to cast them aside,
'' You'll Repeat Those Same Old Mistakes ''
Last Night, I Died
Last night, I died
And there was no one there
There was no one for me to speak to
Except for GOD; who I did in prayer.
I asked GOD then to forgive me
And please, erase the sins of this man
Then I asked him to watch over my family and friends
And then I asked him please; hold my hand.
And as I lay there dying
Unto GOD I freely spoke
I thanked him for all the gifts he gave me,
I thanked him for all the words I wrote.
Then I closed my eyes and had memories
But not of the bad times, only the good,
Then I thought of the people I loved and trusted,
Not because I had to, but because I should.
And while I was there still alone
Awaiting for death to take my life,
I began to cry, but not for me
But for my son, and the woman I call wife.
Then I thought in Heaven who would walk with me
When I arrived, in my new home,
Then I thought who would be with me
Or in Heaven I thought, Would I walk alone.
And as I awaited For my life to end
I worried as I began to think of everyone else,
The sting of death really didn't bother me,
But only knowing, I would die by myself.
And then at last death it came,
And there for me, no one had cried
Because no one knew that I left this world
Because no one knew, last night I had died.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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War Is Never Over
War is never over
Thought the treaties may be signed
The memories of the battles
Are forever in our minds
War is never over
So when you welcome heroes home
Remember in their minds they hold
Memories known to them alone
War is never over
Nam veterans know this well
Now other wars bring memories back
Of their own eternal hell
War is never over
For I knew world war two
And I'll not forget the battles
Or the nightmares that ensue
War is never over
Those left home to wait know this
For many still are waiting
It was their farewell kiss
War is never over
Though we win the victory
Still in our minds the battles
No freedom is not free!
poem by Cecil L. Harrison
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Evergreen School Days........
Our evergreen school days
will not come back again
From the nursery to high school
we learnt the best
and the best that taught by our teachers
Our school life was full of cheers
and lived with full of mischievous
but the discipline was maintained well
We sang and danced without
thinking of our future.
We spent money without earned them
When the school start after the vacation
we meet our friends happily and
welcomed new friends dearly
We played all the games and we won
many games with out care of sun or rain
Many years have been gone
today we live different parts of the world
but the memories of our school days
will live in our hearts as ever green days.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Memories
*Whisper* Memories, Memories, Memories
In This World You Tried
Not Leaving Me Alone Behind
There's No Other Way
I'll Pray To The Gods: Let Him Stay
The Memories Ease The Pain Inside
Now I Know Why
Chorus
All Of My Memories
Keep You Near
It's All About Us
Imagine You'd Be Here
All Of My Memories
Keep You Near
The Silent Whispers
The Silent Tears
Made Me A Promise I'd Try
To Find My Way Back In This Life
I Hope There Is A Way
To Give Me A Sign You're Okay
Reminds Me Again
It's Worth It All
So I Can Go Home
Chorus
Together In All These Memories
I See Your Smile
All The Memories I Hold Dear
Darling You Know I Love You Till The End Of Time
Chorus
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhyme: Close The Door
Remember the simple life
When students bowed heads to pray?
If asked why teachers answered,
'That's the American way! '
Brothers walked dirt roads to school,
Carried lunch in a brown bag.
Small right hands covered big hearts,
Pledged allegiance to our flag.
Parents helped with homework and
Taught their children right from wrong.
'God Bless America' was
Our countrymen's freedom song.
Sunday was a day of rest
Set aside for families.
Fried chicken and apple pie
Graced tables and men said please.
On Monday the school bell rang,
Calling the youngsters once more.
Schoolrooms bring back memories—
Come inside and close the door.
poem by Caryl Ramsdale
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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The Rescue
a little boy and a girl of seven
went to swim in the river at ten
after school was over
time to relax, time to enjoy
no more classes, vacation is here again
it was sunny, and the river was calm
fine weather, went to swim, they don't give a damn
suddenly it rained so hard
rushing sound from above
thunder and lightning seems to hit the place
waters from the mountain rushing in so fast
swimming as fast as they can
to a safer ground, where there were other friends waiting
ahh, the girl sighed in relief..she was saved!
the boy did not make it
his lifeless body was found few meters away from her
a frail, good looking boy, whose life could have been spared
if there were only people nearby for him to be saved
a promise was made to this little girl of seven
she will be a swimmer and a diver in the end
many years later, that little girl of seven
grew up to be a fine swimmer in her school
a promise was fulfilled, she became a volunteer
to a group of rescuers to save lives.
it was again a sunny day, and the weather was fine
with some friends and relatives, they went to the sea
in an island to explore it's wonderful site below
and lo and behold, they saw a little boy of seven
screaming and shouting for help, for his dear life
their small boat was turn upside down
the memories again in that awful Saturday at ten
brought back to this girl of seven
with all her might and with all her strength
she swam as fast as she can
got hold of his neck
and swam again to the waiting arms
of her companions
a rescue.. a life was saved! a small gesture
a promise made by the little girl was fulfilled
i could not imagined..that i have done this
for so many years, it was there in my memories
in my heart..a memorable event..
because that little girl of seven was me.
Thank you for reading one of my most memorable
event that happened in my life when i was seven years
old..
.
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Memories
Memories
All I have is memories
All I have is memories
Memories of you
Now youre gone
They linger on, these memories
All these precious memories
Memories of you
How they linger in the twilight
In the morning in the small hours
Just before dawn
Memories
Of summer days so long ago
People in the places
That we used to know
Oh those memories
How they linger in the twilight
And in the wee small hours
Sometime just before the dawn
Oh those memories
Oh happy times those memories
All I have now is memories
Memories of you
Oh memories
All those precious memories
All I have is memories
Memories of you
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
Memory of Touch
A touch,
Never knew it could mean so much.?
A kiss on the cheek
That good morning speak
I miss memories like that
that so caring stare
As you pass each other in a room
Memory of touch...
Without you my life is doom.
I still hear laughter in each room
I still hear those love sighs and croons.
No, you...
No touches...
Just memories of where you've been in my life.
I did not know you are...
The blood that flowed in my vain?
The shade is now being pulled down
The door over head is closing
Memories of your touch
Never knew they meant so much.
My life blood is now...
No more.
Connection to you is lost... and so is my soul.
whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Sheltered Memories
I did some traveling
A few years ago
I wanted to meet family
That I really didn’t know
Some lived in the same
Family home for years
Full of precious memories
From happiness to tears
I listened to stories
These folks had to tell
Treasured sweet memories
I saw my notebook swell
For these were the stories
That needed to pass
Down through generations
So questions were asked
I saw how they lived
A different life from mine
Heard tales of today
Many from another time
I smile as I see photos
Of family from the past
Photos shelter memories
That will forever last!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Mother
My mother was so wonderful,
Often I
Think of
Her
Everything she has done, has been,
Rewarding.
I hold on to her,
Loving memories,
Overtime they have become strong
Very.
Everything in my life is because of
Years of strong up bringing
Old habits never die.
Understanding,
This keeps me to
Have to
Always hold on to these dear memories.
Never letting go.
Keeping her in my mind and heart
Strongly.
So as long as I live, she will live
On in me and her grandchidren
Most of all our
Unconitionally wanting to
Choose to
Hold on to her memories, forever.
poem by Tameeka Smith
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Old School Memories
I guess we all have old memories
Way back when we were in school
We tried our best to get passing grades
To prove to our folks we weren’t a fool
Remember those old-fashion desks?
There was an ink well right at the top
Some boys didn’t last too long at school
For they stayed home to pick the crops
Long walks home right after school
The stack of books made a heavy load
Kicking rocks but hurrying along
Down that dusty red dirt road
After all, there were always chores to do
Once a kid got back home
Gather the eggs and slop the hogs
Didn’t have a lot of time to roam
Yep, those were good old days, my friend
Nowadays seems school is a breeze
But it sure is fun to look behind us
To the wonderful old school memories!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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