Losing Armies
May 1945, the occupying forces in Norway surrenders, a flag
is lowered another one hoisted. The occupiers’ commandant
hand his revolver to the man from the home front, there is
dignity. The enemy now prisoners, go back to their barracks
and wait to be skipped home to their country.
Another war, in the Middle East 70 years later, the occupiers
leave in the night unseen by the masses, they too have lost
but pretend they are victors. No dignity, only an unspoken
sense of dishonor. And the soldiers, of the vanquished army,
will be demobbed, given medals and sacrifices are forgotten.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Dignity
Dignity is what we want,
As human beings on this earth;
Dignity is what we can’t,
Give up anyway since birth.
Dignity is innate right,
God has bestowed man, He made;
Dignity is cause to fight
When employees get under-paid.
Dignity, all need always
At home, at school and one’s work-place;
Dignity for human race,
Men must guarantee all days.
Dignity in livelihood,
Receive should all citizens;
Dignity in dying too,
World must assure everyone.
Dignity is what we need
In life on earth and when we die;
Dignity is good indeed
For creatures born under the sky.
Dignity for man and beast
Is a must for all, west / east;
Dignity for anyone
Shouldn’t be denied, any time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-26-2006
poem by John Celes
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The Occupiers
The Occupiers
They came, the huddled masses, victims
of a war and pogrom far from our shores;
we gave them room at the inn, and on
our common land they could graze sheep.
They have now taken over the inn, stolen
our common land, bulldozed our villages
and uprooted olive trees to build roads we
cannot use, erected walls to keep us out.
They want us to leave to roam the world
as they did; we will not, we shall stay here
near our ancestors and the land and wait,
yes, wait till they uproot again and leave.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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P.O.W. (Prisoners Of War)
Locked up in a cell
The prisoners of war light the fuse to the dynamite
The door is blasted off the hinges
The prisoners of war escape through the opening where the door was
Enemy soldiers, one by one, are notified
And one by one
They try to take down the prisoners of war
War isn't pretty
War is hell
The enemy soldiers break out the guns and knives
Ready to take the prisoners of war down
But the prisoners of war do a wonderful job of fighting and staying alive
More enemy soldiers are dispatched
Some climb down or dropp off ladders
Some flip and somersault
Some continue walking and running on the ground
After dispatching the enemy soldiers
The prisoners of war climb the ladder
To where they can plan their escape
To where they can make their escape
To where they can escape in a helicopter
Leaving the life of war far behind
poem by Justin Gildow
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Soldier (not really a poem)
the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,
poem by Joshua Decker
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Dignity
Fat man lookin in a blade of steel
Thin man lookin at his last meal
Hollow man lookin in a cottonfield
For dignity
Wise man lookin in a blade of grass
Young man lookin in the shadows that pass
Poor man lookin through painted glass
For dignity
Somebody got murdered on new years eve
Somebody said dignity was the first to leave
I went into the city, went into the town
Went into the land of the midnight sun
Searchin high, searchin low
Searchin everywhere I know
Askin the cops wherever I go
Have you seen dignity?
Blind man breakin out of a trance
Puts both his hands in the pockets of chance
Hopin to find one circumstance
Of dignity
I went to the wedding of mary-lou
She said i dont want nobody see me talkin to you? br> said she could get killed if she told me what she knew
About dignity
I went down where the vultures feed
I wouldve got deeper, but there wasnt any need
Heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men
Wasnt any difference to me
Chilly wind sharp as a razor blade
House on fire, debts unpaid
Gonna stand at the window, gonna ask the maid
Have you seen dignity?
Drinkin man listens to the voice he hears
In a crowded room full of covered up mirrors
Lookin into the lost forgotten years
For dignity
Met prince phillip at the home of the blues
Said hed give me information if his name wasnt used
He wanted money up front, said he was abused
By dignity
Footprints runnin cross the sliver sand
Steps goin down into tattoo land
I met the sons of darkness and the sons of light
In the bordertowns of despair
Got no place to fade, got no coat
Im on the rollin river in a jerkin boat
Tryin to read a note somebody wrote
About dignity
Sick man lookin for the doctors cure
Lookin at his hands for the lines that were
And into every masterpiece of literature
For dignity
Englishman stranded in the blackheart wind
Combin his hair back, his future looks thin
Bites the bullet and he looks within
For dignity
Someone showed me a picture and I just laughed
Dignity never been photographed
I went into the red, went into the black
Into the valley of dry bone dreams
So many roads, so much at stake
So many dead ends, Im at the edge of the lake
Sometimes I wonder what its gonna take
To find dignity
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Right in Front of the Army
"Where 'ave you been this week or more,
'Aven't seen you about the war'?
Thought perhaps you was at the rear
Guarding the waggons." "What, us? No fear!
Where have we been? Why, bless my heart,
Where have we been since the bloomin' start?
Right in the front of the army,
Battling day and night!
Right in the front of the army
Teaching 'em how to fight!"
Every separate man you see,
Sapper, gunner, and C.I.V.,
Every one of 'em seems to be
Right in front of the army!
Most of the troops to the camp had gone,
When we met with a cow-gun toiling on;
And we said to the boys, as they walked her past,
"Well, thank goodness, you're here at last!"
"Here at last! Why, what d'yer mean?
Ain't we just where we've always been?
Right in the front of the army,
Battling day and night!
Right in the front of the army,
Teaching'em bow to fight!"
Correspondents and Vets in force,
Mounted foot and dismounted horse,
All of them were, as a matter of course,
Right in the front of the army.
Old Lord Roberts will have to mind
If ever the enemy get behind;
For they'll smash him up with a rear attack,
Because his army has got no back!
Think of the horrors that might befall
An army without any rear at all!
Right in the front of the army,
Battling day and night!
Right in the front of the army,
Teaching 'em how to fight!
Swede attaches and German counts,
Yeomen (known as De Wet's Remounts),
All of them were, by their own accounts,
Right in the front of the army!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Love We Once Shared
An unmarked gravestone.
When is the last time you visited?
The forgotten, the forgotten, the forgotten.
How many days have went bye?
How many times have you smiled since then?
How many time have you woke in the middle of the night screaming and clenching you fist?
How many, oh how many tear drops fall and wash away in the stream of lost souls just trying to find their way back home?
His name, empty an hollow, his date of both life and death doesn't exist.
All that remains is some old bones below the dirt of an unmarked grave.
I remember when he was first conceived, things were so different back then.
Not the fear that is present ever so much now.
No one wants to help each other, too afraid to get pulled down.
But once your down here, where is it you think you are going go?
I just don't know ow ow, but I do remember the love we once shared.
I remember as you were taken away in handcuffs crying but I didn't mean too.
Hard to forget such traumatic moments.
Emotion becomes the string to the cloth we are yet to weave.
For love we will all deceive.
An unmarked gravestone.
When is the last time you visited?
The forgotten, the forgotten, the forgotten.
How many days have went bye?
How many times have you smiled since then?
How many times have you woke in the middle of the night screaming and clenching your fist?
How many, oh how many tear drops fall and wash away in the stream of lost souls just trying to find their way back home?
He had such pretty baby blue eyes, just like you.
A reflection of what we hate.
A reflection of what we contemplate.
I still don't understand why you did it.
And I probably never will.
Was he crying too loud?
Did you have to feed him one too many time.
And does the why make it any easier?
Taking a step back.
Taking it all in.
A unrealistic clouded moment with anger and hate in my eyes.
What right did you have.
Their were so many different choices back then.
How am I suppose to grieve with her ghosts image still sitting right in front of me.
An unmarked gravestone.
When is the last time you visited?
The forgotten, the forgotten, the forgotten.
How many days have went bye?
How many times have you smiled since then?
How many time have you woke in the middle of the night screaming and clenching you fist?
How many, oh how many tear drops fall and wash away in the stream of lost souls just trying to find their way back home?
Just trying to find their way back home.
Just trying to find their way back home.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Our Liberation War
the chief commandant
mustafa kemal ataturk
uproared
on his horse upright
rearing
armies
do not stop
go ahead
your mission is on top
your first target
the mediterrenean sea
the aegen too
atter the last
chief commandant hood
field battle
dumlupı nar
the 30th august 1922
greek left
many dead
behind
exhausted
bewildered
and retreated
killing women and children
and burning the oxen
our armies did not stop
followed the enemy
pursuı ng
on foot
some on horse back
the cavalry was the swiftest
the trains were whistling
strangely and prosperously
and happily
a little bit strangely
the people applauding
our soldiers
the enemy was swept to the aegen
in seven days
erected our flag in smryna
to izmir
our reign assembly
escaped in haste
with the english ships
what a betrayel limits
from there homeland
to england
those were hard days
great dayus
severe days
no turc must forget
our republic days were being emerged
atter the harsh field battle ended
chief commandant ataturk
looking at the dead greek soldier
lyı ng on the ground
and murmuring to himself asked
why did you leave your country
in your youth,
who persuaded and told you
to invade our country
sorry this is our homeland
we are supposed to defend
you have come as an enemy
not a guest
what a pity
for you for us
and for the history
but the fault is not ours
it is our enemies'
we find in our noble blood
the needed strengh
even if the world is against us
really
our has to live forever and eternally
our history writes it so
it was 87 years ago
ataturk has delivered
this mission
to turkish youth too
even now still
we have no doubt
to acomplish though
poem by Metin Sahin
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A Soldier's War of Courage
Courage is standing in the middle of a war zone
Not knowing if you’ll be making it back home
Courage is leaving your loved ones behind
Not knowing for sure if you were seeing them for the last time
Courage is holding the weapon in your hand in a do or die place
Not showing the enemy traces of your fear and despair on your face
Courage is able to sleep at night with one eye open and eye closed
Not knowing if tomorrow, you’ll be the next one not coming home
Courage is reading a letter from a loved one holding back the tears
Remaining strong is your mission and survival becomes your darkest fears
Courage is seeing soldiers die right in front of you
While you are aware that your life is at risk for a mission you were born to do
Courage is being a hero in everyone’s eyes
Whether or not you come out alive
There, you will always and forever remain; a Soldier’s War of Courage…
poem by Gail Doyle
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A Soldiers love
They retreat from the past
For they know they shall never forget, it will never pass
As those they love shelter behind whats to come
For from the bottle of pain they take some
They wait for the day to come the day to leave
Yet until then the fire, and horror shall make them greive
Their friends longing to hear ther voices, feel their touch
To think they will never see their faces again, they shall not think of such
The sounds fill their ears as they wait for the firing to subside
As they know they stand with the others side by side
They long to be home, to be in peace, to be in their place
And they know time is all they face
It shall come, the day it ends
The day the memories end, the memories that shall not mend
They know they will be back to the place they love
The day America sees the dove
As they wait they think of those back here
And know it is for the lives back home they fear
They know that their here, they just don't know why
As they sit behind the sheild of life they look to the sky
As they sit they do not know that back home we look to the same sky
As they sit and wait they wish it were all a lie
As they sit and yern for hope they look above
For they know in their heart this is a soldiers love
(may all the soldiers get back safely to their homes, and family. And hopefully it shall be soon that america sees the dove. god bless all soldiers and everyone)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Broremann’s War
Spring,1945, German troops in his town were walking about not
carrying arms, they spoke to the locals in a friendly manner.
Looking back it was peace before the peace. Near Broremann's home
there was a tall house occupied by old non- commissioned officers,
middle-aged men in their thirties with children, gave the kids
chocolate and sweets (after the war the building was taken over by
Mormons) .
British troops arrived, put a canteen in a disused fish factory,
the German troops had surrendered. Broremann got white bread
with spam from the British. The Germans left by train; many
of the town´s people came to wave goodbye, there was no
dislike against the common soldiers, wrath was directed at the
local Gestapo who had betrayed their country by being crueler
than the enemy and by sporting rimless Himmler glasses.
Years later Broremann met a docker in Hamburg who had spent
five war years in his town. They drank together and declared
it had been a peaceful war.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Wrangell Mountain Song
Sunday, and it's raining in Alaska. Seven days, I haven't seen the sun.
Flying bush, flying low along the shoreline, doing everything I can to make it home.
I can't wait to see the Wrangell Mountains. I can't wait to do what I will do.
Honey, did I never say how time goes by so slowly
when I can't wait to get back home to you.
Three years from the war, settled down now.
I did my time and served my country well.
In the freedom I defended, I fly beneath the North Star,
And I just don't know a better way to feel.
I can't wait to see the Wrangell Mountains. I can't wait to do what I will do.
Honey, did I never say how time goes by so slowly
when I can't wait to get back home to you.
It's a quiet life out here among the mountains
in a cabin that was built with these two hands.
McCarthy lies asleep beside the glacier. It's colder now, winter's in the air.
If you think they're wild, it's just because they can't be broken,
it's a strong and gentle people living there.
I can't wait to see the Wrangell Mountains. I can't wait to do what I will do.
Honey, did I never say how time goes by so slowly
when I can't wait to get back home to you.
Honey, did I never say how time goes by so slowly
when I can't wait to get back home to you.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What should move us to action is human dignity: the inalienable dignity of the oppressed, but also the dignity of each of us. We lose dignity if we tolerate the intolerable.
quote by Dominique de Menil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Come Home
It must have been about a 100 years
At least a hundred years
I wish you would just come back
Just come back home
The day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting with my hand right by the telephone
Yeah maybe where you are you cannot make that call
Or you cant find the pen I know its not your fault
CHORUS
My friends think Im insane
Cause I've turned old and gray
And Im still waiting and I cannot be alone
Please come home (please come home)
I watch the clock hands tick my hours turn to days
And I cant fall asleep cause I don't want to miss that ring
I know that this year your car will park outside
But I can't put my arms around the girl who took my life
REPEAT CHORUS
Its been so long
Its been about 100 years
And a million dreams since the last time
Ive seen your pretty face I would do whatever it takes
I would wait another 100 years
And if that didnt work
Maybe Ill try and see what forever feels like
But until then and I know you hear me
And whatever your doing wherever you are please come home
That day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting for you
Baby baby wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home (Please come home)
song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom To My People
Dear peacekeeper
Please give freedom to my people here at home
And in the world
Some of my people have fanilies in the countries that are in war
But some of mypeople already lost their loved ones in the war in their Countries that are in war
That is because they served in the army of their country that is in the War
But they never returned home because they died fighting in the war in Their countries
So their loved ones had to pay a big price
Because at the same time they had to sacrifice their lives for their Countries at war
But my people here at home can't wait for the war to end at their Countries
So that they can go back to their countries that they came from
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The soldiers fought
The soldiers fought a fight, and went for us,
They went not thinking of themselves, and no fuss;
Some were injured. Yet in such agony they fought,
And some carried back to safety, while the enemy was sought.
Those soldiers were so very brave, fighting in our place,
Marching altogether, In order and without grace;
They never knew if they'd get back home at all,
All they did was fighting to win, the problem wasn't small.
And a lot of those brave soldiers, lost arms and legs, it's so,
But some very brave soldiers, where they died we don't know;
And this is why the legacy, we remember them, at set of sun,
And thank all these brave soldiers, for the good that was done.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Soldier's Christmas Night
(Free Verse)
I can't wait to go home
to see my daughter Shiana,
I got a letter from Rome
Which was unlikely to be Diana
I live in a house where it is dreary,
all my friends has passed away, and I will too, I can see it clearly.
My life is such a disorder,
and does not look like an Australian Soldier.
I wonder how many live alone
On a Christmas night, in a mysterious land far from home.
My soul is for freedom and don't question me more,
all I can think of is, leaving this vicious war.
I earned medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
just to realise these things are to rune minds.
I protect my country day and night,
and I will fight until the end, as I have the rights.
I will serve for my country,
until I am in the sematary.
A Private Matter.
This may be a Prıvate matter:
But no Generals died today.
Many of their aides,
Guaranteed them medals
When they suggested.
As long as they
Did their war-planning;
İn the office,
That “car-bombs, ” would be the least
Of their military worries, in Iraq
İf, the action part of the plan
Was delegated, to 'gung-ho' enlisted men
Drafted to do it.
News from Washington says:
Too many Prıvates,
Seeking 'medals of honor, ' in 2011
Are too willing to die.
For their country
And if, this trend continues
Against, what General Patton Once said:
'About lettıng your enemy dıe
For hıs country, '
The army will have a “glut, ” of happy cooks
& old Master Sergeants, close to retirement
That/ have no/ intention,
Of dodging enemy bullets
Or being Fragged
İn the desert, by their corporals
So ** close ** to ** payday.
poem by Ronald Stroman
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Can We Solve Canadian Problems?
The new generation is very aware of what’s going on,
It’s all on the Internet - not TV or Parliament Hill lawn,
Our politicians refuse to change our system as it stands,
It should stay as it is, they say and in their capable hands.
Canada is an illusion of where “EVERYONE” has rights,
Except the right to die with dignity or the system bites,
Or if you are an unborn baby and would like to stay alive,
The politically correct have it in hand and you may die.
They discuss every problem in the world except what really counts,
Not death with dignity or assisted suicide on no accounts,
Computers can get rid of dictators over in the Middle East,
But no changes in Ottawa, not in the very least.
Feb 16th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Harold Land
Harold land with a wave of his hand said goodbye to all that.
He paid his bills and stopped the milk, then put on his hat.
He tried to say his last farewells as quickly as he could,
Promising that he would return, but doubted that he would,
Doubted that he would, doubted.
Now hes marching soldiers in the rain as on to war they rode.
A long thin line of human mind, damnation as their load.
In the mud in coldness dark, hed shiver out his fear,
What disappointing sights hed seen instead of ones so dear,
Instead of ones so dear, so dear.
Going home, hes going home to the land he loved so well.
Going home, he fought for two years, never fell.
Going home, hes going home,
Going home. hes going home.
Harold land with a wave of his hand stood sadly on the stage,
Clutching red ribbons from a badge, but he didnt look his age.
Only two years had passed between his leaving home and back;
He had lost his love and youth while
Leading the attack, leading the attack.
In conversation it could be said,
Well after war your heart is dead.
Well its not hard to understand,
There is no heart in harold land.
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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