Twelve Months After
Hullo! here’s my platoon, the lot I had last year.
‘The war’ll be over soon.’
‘What ’opes?’
‘No bloody fear!’
Then, ‘Number Seven, ’shun! All present and correct.’
They’re standing in the sun, impassive and erect.
Young Gibson with his grin; and Morgan, tired and white;
Jordan, who’s out to win a D.C.M. some night;
And Hughes that’s keen on wiring; and Davies (’79),
Who always must be firing at the Boche front line.
. . . .
‘Old soldiers never die; they simply fide a-why!’
That’s what they used to sing along the roads last spring;
That’s what they used to say before the push began;
That’s where they are to-day, knocked over to a man.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Related quotes
Wirers
‘Pass it along, the wiring party’s going out’—
And yawning sentries mumble, ‘Wirers going out.’
Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud,
They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood.
The Boche sends up a flare. Black forms stand rigid there,
Stock-still like posts; then darkness, and the clumsy ghosts
Stride hither and thither, whispering, tripped by clutching snare
Of snags and tangles.
Ghastly dawn with vaporous coasts
Gleams desolate along the sky, night’s misery ended.
Young Hughes was badly hit; I heard him carried away,
Moaning at every lurch; no doubt he’ll die to-day.
But we can say the front-line wire’s been safely mended.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Face To Face
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Here we are trying to mend all the broken hearts
In a world where the pain is the fear
Aint no doubt theres a method to madness here
Set your clock to the start of a brand new year
Shine your heart to the universe and get the news
Not alone never have been, never will be
See the truth, not to mention the promise made
See them all, see them all high on judar rhythm
We began at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake me up, take me up
Face to face
Lift me up, shake me up
Face to face
Make me real, make me longing to see you smile
Shall we dancing, shall we be the dancing down under
In this life of lives, are we ready to take the chance
Moving to the rhythm, here at last to
Believe
To believe
We began at the first real spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We began at the first real spring - ya
We will sing at the very first spring - ya
We began at the first real spring
We will sing at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
We began at the first real spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake it up, take me up
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face To Face
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Here we are trying to mend all the broken hearts
In a world where the pain is the fear
Aint no doubt theres a method to madness here
Set your clock to the start of a brand new year
Shine your heart to the universe and get the news
Not alone never have been, never will be
See the truth, not to mention the promise made
See them all, see them all high on judar rhythm
We began at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake me up, take me up
Face to face
Lift me up, shake me up
Face to face
Make me real, make me longing to see you smile
Shall we dancing, shall we be the dancing down under
In this life of lives, are we ready to take the chance
Moving to the rhythm, here at last to
Believe
To believe
We began at the first real spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We began at the first real spring - ya
We will sing at the very first spring - ya
We began at the first real spring
We will sing at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
We began at the first real spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake it up, take me up
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Spring
I so liked Spring last year
that's the time I've met you dear.
Thrushes began to sing everywhere
like the music you love to hear.
I still like Spring this year
because I know you're still there
like an angel who's always near
and a friend who really care
I love Spring for simply it is Spring
a season for a new beginning!
9th April 2009
poem by Jazlle D. H.
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Front Line
I am a veteran of the war
I up and joined the army back in 1964
At sixteen I just had to be a man at any cost
I volunteered for Vietnam where I got my leg shot off
I recall a quote from a movie that said "who's more a man
Than a man with a reason that's worth dyin' for"
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
They gave me a uniform and a tiny salty pill
To stop the big urge I might have for the wrong kind of thrill
They put a gun in my hand and said, "shoot until he's dead"
But it's hard to kill when 'please your friend' echoes through your head
Brought up in church taught no man should take another's life
But then put in a jungle where life has no price
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
Back in the world the paper reads today
Another war is in the brewing
But what about the lives of yesterday
And the many happy families that have been ruined
My niece is a hooker and my nephew's a junkie too
But they say I have no right to tell them how they should do
They laugh and say "quit bragging" 'bout the war you should never have been in
But my mind is so brain-washed I'd prob'bly go back and do it again
I walk the neighborhood parading my purple heart
With a fear of agent orange that no one will stop
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
[Repeat 2 times...fade out]
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Laughters, and My Music!
Young laughters, and my music! Aye till now
The voice can reach no blending minors near;
'Tis the bird's trill because the spring is here
And spring means trilling on a blossomy bough;
'Tis the spring joy that has no why or how,
But sees the sun and hopes not nor can fear--
Spring is so sweet and spring seems all the year.
Dear voice, the first-come birds but trill as thou.
Oh music of my heart, be thus for long:
Too soon the spring bird learns the later song;
Too soon a sadder sweetness slays content
Too soon! There comes new light on onward day,
There comes new perfume o'er a rosier way:
Comes not again the young spring joy that went.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Could The Spring Come Back Again
could the spring come back again or never
after we are accostumed to a harsh, white, frozen winter
the frozen sticks melted from the fringes
of the roofs
the hot rays of sun
are glitttering from the horizon
someone lit the light
somr sparrows and finches began to fly
on the yellow brown dog thistles
could the spring come back again
nobody knows how ı love my sisters
in their shields
protecting themselves
figthing with the harshness of life
defending themselves
walking like soldiers on roads
with big soldier bags on shoulders
prams fulll of children
some crying
some playing
some laughing
some sleeping in silence
could the spring come again
with her green leaves
multi color flowers
and singing birds
the little pretty girls
cladf in lovely dresses
may be twins
like lovely winter flowers
their mother in the midst
walking in the streets
telll me somebody
could spring come again
as in my young days
where and when
ı used to sing songs
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Skyline Riders
Against the light of a dawning white
My Skyline Riders stand—
There is trouble ahead for a dark year dead
And the selfish wrongs of a land;
There are hurrying feet of fools to repeat
The follies of Nineteen Eight,
But darkly still on each distant hill
My riders watch and wait.
My Skyline Riders are down and gone
As far as the eye can see,
And the horses stand in the shades of dawn
Where a single man holds three.
We feel the flush and we feel the thrill
Of the coming of Nineteen Nine,
For my Skyline Riders are over the hill
And into the firing line.
The skyline lifts while a storm-cloud lowers—
What’s that? A shot! All’s well!
There is news out there for this land of ours
That the tattling rifles tell.
A “thud” and a “thud” and a flash like blood!
There is light on the land at last!
Australian guns on the nearer hills
Are talking about the past.
O, a lonely place in the days gone by
Was the long first firing line,
Where we fought as strangers, you and I,
For the land that was yours and mine.
There was time to dream in the firing line,
There was time to starve and die,
When the only things in that world of mine
Were my Native Land and I.
O, a lonely place was the firing line
When the gaps were wide between—
Hundreds of miles, in this land of mine
And never a soldier seen.
The dying must die and the dead were left
Unmarked by the deadly tired—
When struck to the heart in a firing line
Where never a shot was fired.
O, a lonely place was the firing line
In the days of the dearth of men,
But hundreds and hundreds of soldiers’ sons
Have flocked to the line since then
We left it weak in the hour of pride,
When our rule seemed firmly set,
But danger threatened the firing line,
And there’s deadly danger yet.
Proud of virtue, and proud of sin,
Or proud ’neath a cruel wrong;
Proud in failure or proud to win—
Oh, the pride of man is strong!
Proud of gold or of being without
Or proud of women and wine—
But get you down from your horse of pride
And into the firing line.
Pride in poverty—all the same—
There’s work for all men to do,
With wrong to fight there is deathless fame
To win in a land so new.
Preacher and drunkard! and sportsman and bard!
In the dawning of Nineteen Nine—
Saints and sinners! ride hard! ride hard!
They are pressed in the Firing Line.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Was It You?
"Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay
And your pen behind your ear;
Will you mark my cheque in the usual way?
For I'm overdrawn, I fear."
Then you look at me in a manner bland,
As you turn your ledger's leaves,
And you hand it back with a soft white hand,
And the air of a man who grieves. . . .
"Was it you, young Jones, was it you I saw
(And I think I see you yet)
With a live bomb gripped in your grimy paw
And your face to the parapet?
With your lips asnarl and your eyes gone mad
With a fury that thrilled you through. . . .
Oh, I look at you now and I think, my lad,
Was it you, young Jones, was it you?
"Hullo, young Smith, with your well-fed look
And your coat of dapper fit,
Will you recommend me a decent book
With nothing of War in it?"
Then you smile as you polish a finger-nail,
And your eyes serenely roam,
And you suavely hand me a thrilling tale
By a man who stayed at home.
"Was it you, young Smith, was it you I saw
In the battle's storm and stench,
With a roar of rage and a wound red-raw
Leap into the reeking trench?
As you stood like a fiend on the firing-shelf
And you stabbed and hacked and slew. . . .
Oh, I look at you and I ask myself,
Was it you, young Smith, was it you?
"Hullo, old Brown, with your ruddy cheek
And your tummy's rounded swell,
Your garden's looking jolly chic
And your kiddies awf'ly well.
Then you beam at me in your cheery way
As you swing your water-can;
And you mop your brow and you blithely say:
`What about golf, old man?'
"Was it you, old Brown, was it you I saw
Like a bull-dog stick to your gun,
A cursing devil of fang and claw
When the rest were on the run?
Your eyes aflame with the battle-hate. . . .
As you sit in the family pew,
And I see you rising to pass the plate,
I ask: Old Brown, was it you?
"Was it me and you? Was it you and me?
(Is that grammar, or is it not?)
Who groveled in filth and misery,
Who gloried and groused and fought?
Which is the wrong and which is the right?
Which is the false and the true?
The man of peace or the man of fight?
Which is the ME and the YOU?"
poem by Robert William Service
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Alankar(Decor) -83
Late Night Lunacy(Mirror Cinquain)
The Mirror Cinquain is:
(10 line poem)
syllabic,2-4-6-8-2-2-8-6-4-2 syllables per line.
unrhymed
Late night
The door is knocked
She opens to find him
His grin stinks sleepish to harass
Routine
Her life
Shared and unshared amid heart burns
He writes on black in white
'I love my wife'
Does she?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Songs of Joy
Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy;
Sing as a happy bird will sing
Beneath a rainbow's lovely arch
In the spring.
Think not of death in thy young days;
Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear?
And fear him not when thou art old,
And he is near.
Strive not for gold, for greedy fools
Measure themselves by poor men never;
Their standard still being richer men,
Makes them poor ever.
Train up thy mind to feel content,
What matters then how low thy store?
What we enjoy, and not possess,
Makes rich or poor.
Filled with sweet thought, then happy I
Take not my state from other's eyes;
What's in my mind -- not on my flesh
Or theirs -- I prize.
Sing, happy soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a Brook sings in the wood,
That all night has been strengthened by
Heaven's purer flood.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Bobby
(reba mcentire, don schlitz)
Bobby pleaded guilty to the charges that they read
As they led him from the courtroom, a young voice turned his head
A little boy, dressed in blue, was standing at the rail
He said I hope they kill you, I hope you go to hell
They put bobby in a jail with forty other men
They all knew what he had done, they were glad to take him in
Theyd all seen the headlines about bobby and his wife
How they loved each other, and how he took her life
Day after day, he sat alone
Night after night, theyd hear him sing his song (hed sing)
Chorus:
Baby, Ill take care of you, Ill never let you down
No harm will ever come to you as long as Im around
I am not afraid of what people say or do
The only thing I fear is being here...without you
The little boy dressed up in blue grew up to be a man
When he fell in love himself, he came to understand
How it was that bobby took the life they both adored
Cause bobby couldnt stand to see her suffer anymore
He took out the papers from the trunk beneath his bed
And all the years just disappeared as through his tears he read
The stories of the accident that robbed his mamas mind
And the man who held her in his arms and chose to cut the line
And the one about the man who sits alone
Year after year, singing his song (hed sing)
Repeat chorus:
The young man drove his car up, and parked outside the gate
They led him to a cold gray room, the guard told him to wait
When the gaurd brought bobby in, the young man finally knew
He still missed his mama, but hed missed his daddy too
And when the guard left the two of them alone
He took bobby in his arms, and the young man sang the song
Daddy, Ill take care of you, Ill never let you down
No harm will ever come to you as long as Im around
You have taught me not to fear what people say or do
The only thing I fear is being here...without you
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why is there War?
A young person asked me
why is there war?
people getting killed
and for what for?
All she saw was hate
no love only fear
never ending wars
year after year.
Is it about money
oil or land
is it religion?
I don't understand.
Young soldiers dying
going to an early grave
all this for their country
they must be very brave.
She waited for an answer
looked me straight in the eye
she really wanted to know
why the innocent had to die.
Sadly I couldn't give her an answer
I had to leave her standing there
maybe she should ask someone
like George Bush or Tony Blair?
poem by Kevin Halls
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I Am Not Ordinary Man
I am death
I am destroyer
I am not ordinary man
I have kept all people faithless
Since the present world began.
I am Stalin
I am Hitler
I am everything you fear
I prey on people's consciences
And I am always near.
I am madness
I am anger
I am the cancer in the cell
I am the one that draws the line
Between what’s heaven
And what's hell.
I am not
The known grim reaper
I am not called Lucifer
I am courteous to strangers
And I listen
Very well.
I am Iraq
I am Bali
I've been to 'Ghanistan.
I'm not the devil
I'm imperfect
For I am simply Man.
* Reposted from a year ago because of interest in the 'cut down version' entitled 'Vengeance'.
poem by David Keig
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I Remember You
Well theres a colour picture
In my mind.
Of all the places
That Ive left behind.
The broken windows
Where the wind blows through
Empty shells of houses
That have turned to ruin.
Oh - we were so young.
We didnt realise
Just what wed done.
Oh - we were too young.
And I remember you.
You were the back yard boy.
Hiding in the wreckage
Of broken dreams.
Standing by the railway line.
Standing.
Oh - we were so young.
We didnt realise
Just what wed done.
Oh - we were too young.
And all the sweetness
Has been taken out of this place.
So many memories
Are knocked down or replaced.
And I cant stand to see
The shifting time
Taking me further -
Leaving you behind.
(chorus repeats...)
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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When Winter Darkening All Around
When winter covering all the ground
Hides every sign of Spring, sir.
However you may look around,
Pray what will then you sing, sir?
The Spring was here last year I know,
And many bards did flute, sir;
I shall not fear a little snow
Forbid me from my lute, sir.
If words grow dull and rhymes grow rare,
I'll sing of Spring's farewell, sir.
For every season steals an air,
Which has a Springtime smell, sir.
But if upon the other side,
With passionate longing burning,
Will seek the half unjeweled tide,
And sing of Spring's returning.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Empires
Empires
On the ancient road I hear roman soldiers’ footsteps, all roads lead back to an empire;
and nothing has changed the poor die in the service of their masters. The Romans took
the elites sons of country they wanted to dictate sent them to Rome trained and sent
them back and they had vassal state. It didn’t always work, loyalty became resentment
and uprising, the kept kings demanded more power. The new empire is doing the same,
sends sons and daughters of the elite, in countries they want to control, to Harvard, we
get the royal household of Jordan. Sometime it backfires and we get Osama Bin Laden.
All empires must fall it’s written in the stars, their outpost Israel, is a sacrilege, losing her
humanity. I hear tired Roman soldiers marching on roads their foes will take when they
come to crush them. Iraq is a civil war waiting to happen, Afghanistan is a lost cause and
Pakistan will never submit to foreign dominance. I hear the footsteps, the new empires’
soldiers, the urban poor, have been promised glory, and shiny medals, as always they die
for a dream not theirs. The ghosts of roman soldiers marches on through the centuries,
nothing has changed in two thousand years.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Irritating Sky
The sky is always changing –
Can't it settle down?
Shades of blue, then reddy hue,
Puffs of grey and white;
And then it's bloody night!
At least I see a smattering
Of twinkly little things,
A silver globe occasionally
Which admittedly it brings
A sort of pleasant feeling,
Warming to the soul,
But overall it's so annoying –
Irritatingly droll!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Sky sky bloody sky, bloody sky sky
Sky sky bloody sky, sky bloody sky
Sky bloody sky bloody sky sky sky
Sky bloody sky bloody sky sky sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Oh, Brother
Im not much for making little wishes
But Id like a little wish to come true for you
Im not talking about loaves and fishes
But I wish that there was something I could do for you
Heres a little bit of cheap advice
To be taken in an hour of need
Dont assume that the life you left
Is the life you have to lead
(chorus)
When you come home what you gonna do
Oh brother, oh brother
Dont you try to deny
What you know to be true
The same mess of misery that you done been through
Standing in line
And its waiting for you
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Id like to know whos knocking on door
Id like to know what they come here for
Youd like to say no
But the words wont come
Come in and sit down, seem to roll off your tongue
You forget to remember, to never die young
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all of your friends
- chorus -
And that moon will be
Shining in the trees
All night long
Something bound to happen for sure
Soon youll be
Stopping by talking to a friend again
Swear you aint never tasted nothing so pure
- chorus -
When you come home, your friends are dropping by
When you come home, the moon is gonna shine
When you come home, I tell you no lie
When you come home, theyre gonna offer you a line
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends now
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all your so called friends
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, oh brother, oh brother now
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, what youre gonna do now
Standing in line...
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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