I Saw Old General At Bay
I SAW old General at bay;
(Old as he was, his grey eyes yet shone out in battle like stars;)
His small force was now completely hemm'd in, in his works;
He call'd for volunteers to run the enemy's lines--a desperate
emergency;
I saw a hundred and more step forth from the ranks--but two or three
were selected;
I saw them receive their orders aside--they listen'd with care--the
adjutant was very grave;
I saw them depart with cheerfulness, freely risking their lives.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Field of Battle
Forced are the troops of battle,
Into the field of war, of war.
Feed on their movement, general,
As a leader of war, of this battle.
I, a troop, have forced my mind
Into the war of my dreams,
Into the fire of my wishes;
They are like dread and scare.
To belittle a young man, who is a soldier,
A fighter, born of the skill to fight and parry,
Is never agreeable in the eyes of the warlord,
The hard man or woman, the harsh chief.
Punishment awaits those who excel at war crime
And force is a force that fades from power
To weak pull, a reaction to the enemy,
A full explosion for them who oppose.
Swords and crossbows are the implements
That win the war more than anything else.
Your horse is put to death, the standard-bearers
Are put down for their bravery, gallantry.
Forced are the troops of battle,
Into the field of war, of war.
Feed on their movement, general,
As a leader of war, of this battle.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Riding Round the Lines
Dust and smoke against the sunrise out where grim disaster lurks
And a broken sky-line looming like unfinished railway works,
And a trot, trot, trot and canter down inside the belt of mines:
It is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is riding round his lines.
And the scarecrows from the trenches, haggard eyes and hollow cheeks,
War-stained uniforms and ragged that have not been off for weeks;
They salute him and they cheer him and they watch his face for signs;
Ah! they try to read old Greybeard while he’s riding round the lines.
There’s a crack, crack, crack and rattle; there’s a thud and there’s a crash;
In the battery over yonder there is something gone to smash,
Then a hush and sudden movement, and its meaning he divines,
And he patches up a blunder while he’s riding round his lines.
Pushing this position forward, bringing that position back,
While his officers, with orders, ride like hell down hell’s own track;
Making hay—and to what purpose?—while his sun of winter shines,
But his work is just beginning when he’s ridden round his lines.
There are fifty thousand rifles and a hundred batteries
All a-playing battle music, with his fingers on the keys,
And if for an hour, exhausted, on his camp bed he reclines,
In his mind he still is riding—he is riding round his lines.
He’s the brains of fifty thousand, blundering at their country’s call;
He’s the one hope of his nation, and the loneliest man of all;
He is flesh and blood and human, though he never shews the signs:
He is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is fixing up his lines.
It is thankless work and weary, and, for all his neighbour knows,
He may sometimes feel as if he doesn’t half care how it goes;
But for all that can be gathered from his eyes of steely blue
He might be a great contractor who has some big job to do.
There’s the son who died in action—it may be a week ago;
There’s the wife and other troubles that most men have got to know—
(And we’ll say the grey-haired mother underneath the porch of vines):
Does he ever think of these things while he’s riding round his lines?
He is bossed by bitter boobies who can never understand;
He is hampered by the asses and the robbers of the land,
And I feel inclined to wonder what his own opinions are
Of the Government, the country, of the war and of the Czar.
He’s the same when he’s advancing, he’s the same in grim retreat;
For he wears one mask in triumph and the same mask in defeat;
Of the brave he is the bravest, he is strongest of the strong:
General Greybeard Shrapnel never shows that anything is wrong.
But we each and all are lonely, and we have our work to do;
We must fight for wife and children or our country and our screw
In the everlasting struggle to the end that fate destines;
In the war that men call living we are riding round our lines.
I ride round my last defences, where the bitter jibes are flung,
I am patching up the blunders that I made when I was young,
And I may be digging pitfalls and I may be laying mines;
For I sometimes feel like Shrapnel while I’m riding round my lines.
poem by Henry Lawson
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One Small Step
So many people
Need to go so many miles
How do we move them
To where the answer lies
Reach out to the ocean
Beyond the stars that shine
Weve got to take one small step in time
If we are the dreamers
Then the world must be the dream
Driven to question
All the things weve never seen
We search the horizon
Looking for a sign
Weve got to take one small step in time
One step beyond
All our hopes and our passion
There is the light of the universe flashin
All that it takes is one leap of faith
One small step, (one small step)
One small step in time
Deep in the darkness
(deep in the blackness)
Theres a wind that never dies
(theres a wind that never dies)
Out in the vastness
(out in the vastness)
Theres a road across the sky
(a road across the sky)
Out there is the reason
That we were meant to find
Weve got to take one small step in time
Weve got to take one small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Giving In This Season
Giving in this season,
Is a reason to forgive.
Letting go to then receive...
A peacefulness that can mend.
And if it wasn't for these days,
Would we find a way to say...
Be merry and spread cheerfulness,
With joy that's felt today.
Living in the moment,
To let harmony arrive.
Knowing that a smile that's shown,
Is clear in someone's eyes.
And it's given with a wish that's known,
A gift is there to share.
There is hope for one and all that comes...
When someone shows they care.
Giving in this season,
Is a reason to forgive.
Letting go to then receive...
A peacefulness that can mend.
And if it wasn't for these days,
Would we find a way to say...
Be merry and spread cheerfulness,
With joy that's felt today.
Be merry spreading cheerfulness,
And joy will bless our days.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
The Battle of El-Teb
Ye sons of Great Britain, I think no shame
To write in praise of brave General Graham!
Whose name will be handed down to posterity without any stigma,
Because, at the battle of El-Teb, he defeated Osman Digna.
With an army about five thousand strong,
To El-Teb, in the year 1884, he marched along,
And bivouacked there for the night;
While around their fires they only thought of the coming fight.
They kept up their fires all the long night,
Which made the encampment appear weird-like to the sight;
While the men were completely soaked with the rain,
But the brave heroes disdained to complain.
The brave heroes were glad when daylight did appear,
And when the reveille was sounded, they gave a hearty cheer
And their fires were piled up higher again,
Then they tried to dry their clothes that were soaked with the rain.
Then breakfast was taken about eight o'clock,
And when over, each man stood in the ranks as firm as a rock,
And every man seemed to be on his guard --
All silent and ready to move forward.
The first movement was a short one from where they lay --
Then they began to advance towards El-Teb without dismay,
And showed that all was in order for the fray,
While every man's heart seemed to feel light and gay.
The enemy's position could be seen in the distance far away
But the brave heroes marched on without delay --
Whilst the enemy's banners floated in the air,
And dark swarms of men were scattered near by there.
Their force was a large one -- its front extended over a mile,
And all along the line their guns were all in file;
But as the British advanced, they disappeared,
While our brave kilty lads loudly cheered.
Thus slowly and cautiously brave General Graham proceeded
And to save his men from slaughter, great caution was needed,
Because Osman Digna's force was about ten thousand strong;
But he said, Come on, my brave lads, we'll conquer them ere long!
It was about ten o'clock when they came near the enemy's lines,
And on the morning air could be heard the cheerful chimes
Corning from the pipes of the gallant Black Watch,
Which every ear in the British force was eager to catch.
Then they passed by the enemy about mid-day,
While every Arab seemed to have his gun ready for the fray
When a bullet strikes down General Baker by the way,
But he is soon in the saddle again without delay,
And ready for any service that he could perform;
Whilst the bullets fell around them in a perfect storm
That they had to lie down, but not through fear,
Because the enemy was about 800 yards on their left rear.
Then General Graham addressed his men,
And said, If they won't attack us, we must attack them,
So start to your feet, my lads, and never fear,
And strike up your bagpipes, and give a loud cheer.
So they leapt to their feet, and gave a loud cheer,
While the Arabs swept down upon them without the least fear,
And put aside their rifles, and grasped their spears;
Whilst the British bullets in front of them the earth uptears.
Then the British charged them with their cold steel,
Which made the Arabs backward for to reel;
But they dashed forward again on their ranks without dismay,
But before the terrible fire of their musketry they were swept away.
Oh, God of Heaven! it was a terrible sight
To see, and hear the Arabs shouting with all their might
A fearful oath when they got an inch of cold steel,
Which forced them backwards again and made them reel.
By two o'clock they were fairly beat,
And Osman Digna, the false prophet, was forced to retreat
After three hours of an incessant fight;
But Heaven, 'tis said, defends the right.
And I think he ought to be ashamed of himself;
For I consider he has acted the part of a silly elf,
By thinking to conquer the armies of the Lord
With his foolish and benighted rebel horde.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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My buddies (a reply to Boris Slutsky)
All young white men at a time
was forced into the military, into war
or had to serve a three year jail term
and most of my buddies came home,
but some did not:
Parachuting into a enemy camp
there was one close friend that died,
the other three I hardly knew
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
seven hundred and fifty
enemy SWAPO and Cuban casualties
and on one patrol one close buddy
stepped on a landmine
were blown up and no one else was hurt,
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
the enemy that had lost
little lest than a full platoon.
In Angola when we met enemy armour,
turned FAPLA / Cuban divisions
under Soviet leadership into junk
I saw a Ratel armoured car
that was trapped in a landmine field
that had been shot out
with the holes
were enemy tank projectiles went in
and every one inside was burnt, incinerated
if not blown to bits, turned into ash
and it had been only one of eleven
armoured cars
and troop carriers that was lost
some of only thirty-one soldiers dead
but there was pain that flashed through me
when I saw it
and to the government it was
an incidental small thing against
four thousand seven hundred and eighty five killed
on the Cuban/FAPLAN side,94 tanks
and hundreds of enemy combat vehicles destroyed
and now no one thinks
of the sacrifice that all of these soldiers made,
of the hundreds of thousands
of returning citizen force soldiers
who were nuts, bomb happy
with post traumatic stress syndrome
or whatever you want to call it
as to the government it is
an incidental small thing,
that happened in a distant past
as if the ex-soldiers are non-existing,
even seen as apartheid criminals by some.
[References: Buddies here used as name used in the South African Defence Force for comrades. Ex-soldiers here used instead of war veterans, as in African circles the word war veterans has got a new derogatory meaning connected to it. My Comrades by Boris Slutsky.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Why Do I Go
There are those who ask me why?
Why do I go to fight fight and maybe die.
For many reasons I answer the call.
Some will understand others not at all.
Because I am a warrior
my given orders I must obey.
To seek and destroy all those
who align with evildoers.
Because of my ideals and values.
Yes I will go I will man the lines.
I will fight because my heart tells me.
I must protect my loved ones.
My loved ones because I cannot bear
perception of their pain
or forever gone from my care.
Yes I must respond.
I go because I believe tyrants threaten.
To gain dominance by force
instill fear and harm.
To innocent gentle souls.
I go because somewhere
someone's freedom.
is jeophardized.
Held captive of terror and threat.
I must fight despite great odds.
Keeping safe all people's right.
To live and choose freely
to realize each's hopes and dreams.
To protect the privilege
of everyone's natural right
to voice unafraid their feelings.
To carry on that fight I must go.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Toast & Bananas
Do you wanna know what i think of you?
'cause you're not the way i thought you should be
Do take back what you said
It's time to fix, it's time to fix your head
And now all alone, one's less than two
I've never been better off living lonely
To listen to what you say
I couldn't care less of what you say
What did you think of me acting this way
I guess you never really thought at all
Is that what you call your brain?
Is that why i call you hang up on me?
I wanted to know, i didn't want to lose
And now i'm a man who's just living small
Listen to what you say
I couldn't care less of what you say
To me as i walk alone i'd
Much rather be riding prone, then
To be just another one you are lame to
I wanted to know, i didn't want to lose
But now i'm a man who's just living small
Listen to what you say
I couldn't care less of what you say
To me as i tune you out of my mind
Won't bend over backwards or
Take another step ahead to
Hear from you again
Don't talk to me as i walk alone, i'd
Much rather be riding prone, than
Be just another one you are lame to
Don't talk to me as i tune you out of my mind
Won't bend over backwards or
Take another step ahead to
Hear from you again
Don't talk to me as i walk alone, i'd
Much rather be riding prone, than
To be just another one you are lame to
song performed by by Blink 182
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Battle Cry of Freedom- Union
Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,
We'll rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
We will rally from the hillside,
We'll gather from the plain,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
CHORUS: The Union forever,
Hurrah! boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitors,
Up with the stars;
While we rally round the flag, boys,
Rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
We are springing to the call
Of our brothers gone before,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And we'll fill our vacant ranks with
A million free men more,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.-CHORUS
We will welcome to our numbers
The loyal, true and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And although they may be poor,
Not a man shall be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.-CHORUS
So we're springing to the call
From the East and from the West,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom;
And we'll hurl the rebel crew
From the land that we love best,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.-CHORUS
poem by George Frederick Root
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Grave desecration
I will go to my father
where his grave is in the hillocks
and when I get to his grave
I will rise my eyes into the blue
and my eyes will look at the unfathomable
while the world depart from me
and there I will find God
while the day appears
and for moments I will
be in companionship with my Lord
as if He is with me in the graveyard
and see how roots tear the grave apart
and shadows will already draw lines
stretch out long from the hillocks
while twilight is creeping closer
and I will advance
right up to
the office of the caretaker
and he will have to explain
why I am finding a tree
on my mother’s resting place.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Eland’s River
IT WAS on the fourth of August, as five hundred of us lay
In the camp at Eland’s River, came a shell from De La Rey—
We were dreaming of home faces,
Of the old familiar places,
And the gum-trees and the sunny plains five thousand miles away—
But the challenge woke and found us
With four thousand rifles round us;
And Death stood laughing at us at the breaking of the day.
Hell belched upon our borders, and the battle had begun.
Our Maxims jammed: We faced them with one muzzle-loading gun.
East, south, and west, and nor’ward
Their shells came screaming forward
As we threw the sconces round us in the first light of the sun.
The thin air shook with thunder
As they raked us fore and under,
And the cordon closed around us, as they held us—eight to one.
We got the Maxims going, and the field-gun into place
(She stilled the growling of a Krupp upon our southern face);
Round the crimson ring of battle
Swiftly ran the deadly rattle
As our rifles searched their fore-lines with a desperate menace;
Who would wish himself away
Fighting in our ranks that day
For the glory of Australia and the honour of the race?
But our horse-lines soon were shambles, and our cattle lying dead
(When twelve guns rake two acres there is little room to tread),
All day long we heard the drumming
Of the Mauser bullets humming,
And at night their guns, day-sighted, rained fierce havoc overhead.
Twelve long days and nights together,
Through the cold and bitter weather,
We lay grim behind the sconces, and returned them lead for lead.
They called us to surrender, and they let their cannon lag;
They offered us our freedom for the striking of the flag—
Army stores were there in mounds,
Worth a hundred thousand pounds,
And we lay battered round them behind trench and sconce and crag.
But we sent the answer in,
They could take what they could win—
We hadn’t come five thousand miles to fly the coward’s rag.
We saw the guns of Carrington come on and, fall away;
We saw the ranks of Kitchener across the kopje grey—
For the sun was shining then
Upon twenty thousand men—
And we laughed, because we knew, in spite of hell-fire and delay,
On Australia’s page for ever
We had written Eland’s River—
We had written it for ever and a day!
poem by George Essex Evans
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Phantoms in my dreams
Another river flooded with blood
with thousands of enemy soldiers
wiped out, as if their lives
mattered not to man.
Almost a hundred tanks shot out,
more than three hundred
armoured cars destroyed
and some tanks,
(more than the fingers
on my hands)
just left behind
with the occupants running away
to hide in the veldt
and to this day
the shocking reality
of that battle scenes
are phantoms in my dreams.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Desperate Lives
Whats the problem here
Whats the noise
Im just waiting for the man (yea)
Me and the boys
Hes got the goods
Weve got the twenties, tens and fives
Everybodys doing it
Living desperate lives (living on the edge)
Desperate lives
Im stuck in the middle
Desperate lives
My life is a riddle
And Im sure theres a way out
When I want it
Sometimes I worry
But Im no fool
I keep it to myself
Cause you gotta stay cool
Desperate lives
Im stuck in the middle
Desperate lives
Sometimes I feel my life floating away
And times seems so precious
I want to hold you and say
Im stuck in the middle
Desperate lives
My life is a riddle
Desperate lives
Im stuck in the middle
Ive got this friend you know hes real cool
He gave new meaning to the term high school
Sometimes I worry
But Im no fool
I keep it to myself
Cause you gotta stay cool
Desperate lives
Im stuck in the middle
Desperate lives
My life is a riddle
And Im sure theres a way out
When I want it
Momma just looks confused and my daddy said
Ive got this bomb tick, tick, ticking in my head
Im stuck in the middle
Desperate lives
My life is a riddle
Desperate lives
Im stuck in the middle
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Toast Bananas
Do you wanna know what I think of you?
cause youre not the way I thought you should be
Do take back what you said
Its time to fix, its time to fix your head
And now all alone, ones less than two
Ive never been better off living lonely
To listen to what you say
I couldnt care less of what you say
What did you think of me acting this way
I guess you never really thought at all
Is that what you call your brain?
Is that why I call you hang up on me?
I wanted to know, I didnt want to lose
And now Im a man whos just living small
Listen to what you say
I couldnt care less of what you say
To me as I walk alone id
Much rather be riding prone, then
To be just another one you are lame to
I wanted to know, I didnt want to lose
But now Im a man whos just living small
Listen to what you say
I couldnt care less of what you say
To me as I tune you out of my mind
Wont bend over backwards or
Take another step ahead to
Hear from you again
Dont talk to me as I walk alone, id
Much rather be riding prone, than
Be just another one you are lame to
Dont talk to me as I tune you out of my mind
Wont bend over backwards or
Take another step ahead to
Hear from you again
Dont talk to me as I walk alone, id
Much rather be riding prone, than
To be just another one you are lame to
song performed by by Blink 182
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once Having No Time To Give
Why is it that those,
Once having no time to give to others...
Whether freely donating from their hearts or not,
Seem as if they have more of it.
With an abundance of time on their hands they have.
And the ones they had 'selected' then to share it with,
Could care less if they exist.
While the ones with the time,
Do their best to find something constructive to do.
Having spent most of their lives,
Addressing impressions and not a self worth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Military wives- The silent ranks
I wear no uniforms no blue or army greens I am in the military ranks rarely seen I have no rank upon my shoulders salutes i do not give the military world is the place i live I'm not in the chain of command orders i do not get my husband is the one who does this i cannot forget I'm not the one who fires the weapon who put my life on the line though my job is just as tough I'm the one that's left behind my husband is a patriot a brave prideful man and the call to serve his country not all can understand behind the lines i see the thing needed to keep this country free my husband make the sacrifice but so do our children and i I love the man i married soldiering is his life I stand in the silent ranks know as the military wives
poem by Charity Howard
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The Battle In Me
am a suicidal risk
a force to be reckoned with
kinda funny more i think a bout it
i evoke change in those round me
but unable to change my self
i step out of the shadows
just to run back to the dark
it hurts to know am on death
end yet no one seems to care
blood on my hand as i loss consciousness
am losing control and for some reason
i don't want to stop this transformation
am a heart less guy why cant i see this
but i care that means there some thing there
well stop caring and take your life
you complain to much lives worth the fight
these beast battle in me
can someone help me before its to late
poem by Robert Roberts
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No Small Doubt
Satan starts with a small doubt, when it’s God who’s talked about,
Satan takes a well grounded fool, and uses him as a spiritual tool,
One sharpened tool for deceit, for Satan’s goal of spiritual defeat,
As victory through Christ is yours, but, the enemy subtly implores,
That one soul to join the lost, and become an enemy of the Cross.
It may be someone that you know, though a friend, a spiritual foe,
Maybe a family member, or two, who spiritually disagree with you,
They might not even be aware, when used by the prince of the air,
That serpent and the father of lies, going for that spiritual demise,
Of men and women everywhere, who regarding Truth, do not care.
Satan makes inroads all the time, to sway the heart and the mind,
So that they will reject God’s Son, Christ who came for everyone,
From doubt he moves to deceive, and even men, who do believe,
So that their influence for The Lord, upon others, may go ignored,
As Satan uses everybody he can, even those who are Born Again.
With some doubt he brings dismay, causing clouds along the way,
Clouds of darkness and despair, to assert that God does not care,
But not only does The Lord care, He defeated the prince of the air,
Though Satan will lie until the end, he cannot defeat God my friend,
Who alone, can set all men free, as they accept Truth from Calvary.
It is no small doubt my friend, as Satan works to produce your end,
An end that goes beyond the grave, for all who God does not save,
Not because He can’t; He died for all, but, Satan induces man’s fall,
Man’s enemy in this Age of Grace, so The Truth they won’t embrace,
Inciting doubt, his deceptive breath, moves men to an eternal death.
(Copyright ©08/2008)