Suicide in the Trenches
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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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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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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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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High Lonesome
High in a tree on the top of the hill
By the light of the lonesome ol moon
I hear the call of a lone whipporwill
Singing his mournful tune.
Way off in the night blows the long freight train
With a roar and a ramble of wheels
My poor heart is breaking with every refrain
Cause it sounds just like the way I feel.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome, heartbroken and blue
High lonesome
Lil darling, I'm lonesome for you.
--- Instrumental ---
Do you ever get weary roamin around
Do you think of the sweet love we knew
Do you ever get lonesome the way I am now
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome heartbroken and blue
Its a high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
It's high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Im So Lonesome I Could Cry
(words & music by williams)
Hear that lonesome winter bird
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die
That means hes lost the will to live
Im so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
Im so lonesome I could cry
Im so lonesome I could cry
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonesome Day
Baby once I thought I knew
Everything I needed to know about you
Your sweet whisper, your tender touch
I didnt really know that much
Jokes on me, its gonna be okay
If I can just get through this lonesome day
Lonesome day
Hells brewing, dark suns on the rise
This storm will blow through, by and by
House is on fire, vipers in the grass
Little revenge and this too shall pass
This too shall pass, darling
Yeah Im gonna pray
Right now, all I gots this lonesome day
Lonesome day
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright
Better ask questions before you shoot
Deceit and betrayals a bitter fruit
Its hard to swallow come time to pay
That taste on your tongue dont easily slip away
Thy kingdom come, Im gonna find my way
Yeah, through this lonesome day
Lonesome day
Lonesome day
Lonesome day
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Its alright, its alright, its alright, yeah
Lonesome day
Lonesome day
Lonesome day
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Whispered Tale
I’d heard fool-heroes brag of where they’d been,
With stories of the glories that they’d seen.
But you, good simple soldier, seasoned well
In woods and posts and crater-lines of hell,
Who dodge remembered ‘crumps’ with wry grimace,
Endured experience in your queer, kind face,
Fatigues and vigils haunting nerve-strained eyes,
And both your brothers killed to make you wise;
You had no babbling phrases; what you said
Was like a message from the maimed and dead.
But memory brought the voice I knew, whose note
Was muted when they shot you in the throat;
And still you whisper of the war, and find
Sour jokes for all those horrors left behind.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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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
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soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Lonesome Lullaby
I listened to the whine for way too long
Time for me to hear a different song
I waited overtime for things to turn around
Tired of waiting for it all to hit the ground
You said you knew all about it
What was right and what was wrong
You pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone
Maybe I was weak when I shouldve been strong
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
You took me by surprise and like a shot in the dark, shot in the dark
You showed yourself in your truest light, truest light
You saved yourself by saving nobody else
You must have cringed when you heard them tell
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
You took the wrong turn at the city of dreams, city of dreams
You ended up back where you came from it seems, came from it seems
Back there to where theres nothing else to do
Back there where you can sit and think of only you
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Cry, baby, cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Cry
Tell me bout your lonesome lullaby
Your lonesome lullaby
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Vision
An average man was Private Flynn,
Good stuff for soldiering, no doubt;
Troublesome when the drink was in,
A quiet lad when it was out.
Too fond of gaming and the girls,
And given to 'language' that would fright
His mother dreaming of his curls
And his soft boyish ways at night.
He had forgotten how to pray
The way she taught him at her knees.
Her prayers ran like a river all day,
And while she slept gave little ease.
The Calvary, by Souchez, holds
Wide arms to clasp the new-made beds,
Where lie, nor toss their browns and golds,
The precious, the beloved heads.
Flynn's Captain, who had proved a friend
At times a friend is needed most,
Slept there, and comfort was at end
Because Flynn's faithful friend was lost.
'Gassed.' O'er that twisted grace and dumb,
Flynn swore a choking oath to give
No quarter when the day should come
And fed his hate to thrive and live.
Lest that his Captain feel forgot,
At night when all the trenches slept,
Flynn tended like a garden plot
The grave o'er which the night-dews wept.
He raised a little cross of sticks,
Pansies, forget-me-nots, amid;
Over him the gaunt Crucifix
Shed comfort -- or he thought it did.
Rank disobedience! No one knew
How Flynn, so devil-may-care and brave,
Courted destruction just to do
A little gardening on a grave.
One night the shells lit all the dark,
Burst in a million splinters of flame;
At morn, before the singing lark,
Flynn to his tender office came.
He smoothed the clay where it was rough,
With his hard tender hand he drew
As 'twere a quilt of silken stuff
Between the sleeper and the dew.
All done, he stretched his six foot four,
And yawning, in the dawn's pale glow,
Bent to the Crucifix once more,
Saluted ere he turned to go.
Then here's the marvel -- the dead Christ
Opened His Eyes, the very Eyes
That Mary loved, which through a mist
The saved souls see in Paradise.
Flynn, like Elijah, caught to Heaven!
Plain Private Flynn -- saw God revealed!
Unto a simple soldier given
The secret heart of Heaven unsealed.
Could he go back to common joys
After the joys of Heaven were won?
The quietness was rent with noise,
The death sprang from the hidden gun.
They shot Flynn's eyes out. That was good.
Eyes that saw God are better blind.
Flynn muses on beatitude,
His empty eye-sockets behind.
In a bare London hospital ward
He smiles and prays the live-long day.
He who has seen the living Lord
Has Light upon the darkest way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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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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The Hounds Of Winter
Mercury falling
I rise from my bed
Collect my thoughts together
I have to hold my head
It seems that shes gone
And somehow I am pinned by
The hounds of winter
Howling in the wind
I walk through the day
My coat around my ears
I look for my companion
I have to dry my tears
It seems that shes gone
Leaving me too soon
Im as dark as december
Im as cold as the man in the moon
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They follow me down
I cant make up the fire
The way that she could
I spend all my days
In the search for dry wood
Board all the windows and close the front door
I cant believe she wont be here anymore
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They follow me down
A season for joy
A season for sorrow
Where shes gone
I will surely, surely follow
She brightened my day
She warmed the coldest night
The hounds of winter
They got me in their sights
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome, lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They harry me down
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Losing Sleep Again
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not dream
The nightmares I dream
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not cry
When you wake up to reality
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not believe
You have woken up already
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not stop sleepwalking
Take things slow and steady
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not pretend
I'm sleeping soundly, dear friend
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not lament over
Why I’m losing sleep myself
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not leave me
When you wake up to reality
poem by Dyhanara Rios
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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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Not To Be
THE rose said 'Let but this long rain be past,
And I shall feel my sweetness in the sun
And pour its fullness into life at last.'
But when the rain was done,
But when dawn sparkled through unclouded air,
She was not there.
The lark said 'Let but winter be away,
And blossoms come, and light, and I will soar,
And lose the earth, and be the voice of day.'
But when the snows were o'er,
But when spring broke in blueness overhead,
The lark was dead.
And myriad roses made the garden glow,
And skylarks carolled all the summer long—
What lack of birds to sing and flowers to blow?
Yet, ah, lost scent, lost song!
Poor empty rose, poor lark that never trilled!
Dead unfulfilled!
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Lonesome. Lonesome. I know what it means. Here all by my lonesome, dreaming empty dreams. Weary. Weary at the close of day, wondering if tomorrow brings me joy or sorrow.
quote by Leon Redbone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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Ploughman Singing
Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met
Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky,
And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet,
Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her bye.
Woke early, I arose and thought that first
In winter time of all the world was I.
The old owls might have hallooed if they durst,
But joy just then was up and whistled bye
A merry tune which I had known full long,
But could not to my memory wake it back,
Until the ploughman changed it to the song.
O happiness, how simple is thy track.
--Tinged like the willow shoots, the east's young brow
Glows red and finds thee singing at the plough.
poem by John Clare
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