A Calamitous Situation
The calamity strikes us when the soldier is present,
He appears to be in front of our soul.
A fool is about, with the pressure of discontent,
His possessions maw us with skill and hunger.
Death backs away, dead men do not speak,
My wisdom bellows and beams on him,
The soldier has learnt to escape.
Inside he learnt to beg for life among us,
International help is not for us at all.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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
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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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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A Song For The Irish Militia
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught-
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do! '
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Davis
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A Song For The Irish Militia
AIR--_The Peacock._
I.
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
II.
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords--
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
III.
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write--
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught--
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
IV.
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do!'
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
V.
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway--
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
VI.
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Osborne Davis
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Deaf Gunpowder
Come on soldier.
Soldier?
Get off of your battlefield
Let me take you to a place
Where your weapons are sealed.
Come on soldier.
Soldier?
Look me in the eye
Your heart hasn’t chosen to be here
Then why are you here?
Ask yourself why.
Come on soldier.
Soldier?
It’s time to breathe
It’s time to stop fighting for your life,
For something you don’t believe.
Hey soldier?
Soldier?
I do understand
It wasn’t your choice to be here
But you chose not to fight for that;
You chose to fight for someone else.
That is why in life you were not alive
But when you died,
That was when you started to breathe.
Hey soldier?
Soldier?
I know you cannot hear
Because you strived
You are alive
To you death will never come near.
poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
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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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The Soldier Fights
the soldier fights for the hippys rights to protest against that soldier
the soldier fights for the politions rights to send that soldier to war
the soldier fights for buisness mans rights to make money
the soldier fights for the policemans rights to arrest that soldier
the soldier fights for school kids right to know about past soldiers
the soldier fights to so that you may all sleep at night
the soldier fights for religion so that you may all belive what you wish
And yet the soldier fights on
the soldier fights for his flag, for his country, for his life
Death Serves In The Wars
death serves on the front line
he is on no one side
and he dose not care who or why
death serves on your side of the front line
death serves on the other side of the front line
he dose not care who or why
he will tack a soil like a soldier tack a life
he dose not care who or why
he has no regret not like a soldier who has the regret
he dose not care who or why
the soldier says to the life he has tacks sorry for what ive done
the soldier says what have i done
the soldier says who are you and why did i do this
the soldier cares who or why
who should tack the blame at the end of the day for tacking a life
the soldier who cares who or why
or
death who dose not care who or why
poem by Richard O'Connor
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The Fallen Soldier
Fallen Soldier All Alone
Fallen Soldier Far From Home.
Trickling Down His Face A Tear,
Forgetting How It Feels To Fear
Death And All It's Fate And Glory.
Now It's Here, No Need To Worry.
Fallen Soldier All Alone
Fallen Soldier Far From Home
He's One Of Those They'll All Forget;
The Life He Lived, The Goals He Set,
The Ones He Loved, The Ones Who Wait
To See His Nearly Forgotten Face.
Fallen Soldier All Alone
Fallen Soldier Far From Home
Now Breathing's Just A Waste Of Breath
And Living's Just A Waste Of Death
As He Searches For A New Address;
A Brand New Home Free Of Loneliness.
Fallen Soldier All Alone
Fallen Soldier Far From Home
Lying Motionless On The Ground,
The Battle Raging All Around.
For Now He Is Not All Alone.
This Fallen Soldier Is Welcomed Home.
poem by Branden Hidalgo
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The Young British Soldier
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!
Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Brave Little Soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldiers Of The Heart
A soldier cows an intimidated man,
With the consciousness of an ordinary man;
Admiration strikes at the crib of a wonderful man
Who never afflicts the other person.
Revulsion converts into satisfaction of the soul,
As the soul avows to reconsider the situation of the face,
Declaring nobody to enter and shake the promise
Given. A soldier does not know his autonomy.
A soldier constructs cubes and shapes of dice,
Beginning to snap at the showers from the sky.
With avarice more is drunk, to be this authority with water
Is to be certain of the Hereafter.
The sovereignty of the heavens and earth
Is not like a dreadful awe,
But damnation strikes at those who disagree
With the powers of the land and heart.
This is not avant-garde, it comprises the youth,
And seems ungainly to babies of young stature.
I want my cloudless deaths to be hearty.
I want this death to be done again.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Unknown Soldier
Wait until the war is over
And we're both a little older.
The unknown soldier.
Breakfast where the news is read.
Television children fed.
Unborn living. Living dead.
Bullet strikes the helmet's head
And it's all over
For the unknown soldier.
It's all over
For the unknown soldier.
*army marching sounds*
*gun firing*
Make a grave for the unknown soldier
Nestled in your hollow shoulder.
The unknown soldier.
Breakfast where the news is read.
Television children fed.
Bullet strikes the helmet's head
And
song performed by by The Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mate can do no Wrong
We learnt the creed at Hungerford,
We learnt the creed at Bourke;
We learnt it in the good times
And learnt it out of work.
We learnt it by the harbour-side
And on the billabong:
'No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!'
He’s like a king in this respect
(No matter what they do),
And, king-like, shares in storm and shine
The Throne of Life with you.
We learnt it when we were in gaol
And put it in a song:
' No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!'
They’ll say he said a bitter word
When he’s away or dead.
We’re loyal to his memory,
No matter what he said.
And we should never hesitate,
But strike out good and strong,
And jolt the slanderer on the jaw –
A mate can do no wrong !
poem by Henry Lawson
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Soldier Going To The War
Soldier going to the war--
Will you take my heart with you,
So that I may share a little
In the famous things you do?
Soldier going to the war--
If in battle you must fall,
Will you, among all the faces,
See my face the last of all?
Soldier coming from the war--
Who shall bind your sunburnt brow
With the laurel of the hero,
Soldier, soldier--vow for vow!
Soldier coming from the war--
When the street is one wide sea,
Flags and streaming eyes and glory--
Soldier, will you look for me?
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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Astonishing Travels
Astonished by lairs and hazards,
My soldier is ahead in the blizzards,
Caring for his spirit, arousing nothing
But monsters to his lap, always abducting.
Compare them to beatings by bats,
They convert the rays into combats.
It is soldier for soldier, and darkness
Has emerged on a pressure from highness.
This evil compared to good is worse
Than a death, or even the frightful commerce.
Death is to share with belts and hats
Worn by knights and barons, and acrobats.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Society
Society
I am no soldier,
no soldier am i,
and that is why
i don't even try
to walk in line,
by abiding rules
playing moral's fool.
I am not three,
don't count as two
but i am who
i am
in my solitude,
that is why
i am no soldier
no soldier am I,
not a G.I. in me.
Madrason s-Hertogenbosch 24 03 2010
poem by Madrason writer
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