Boot Camp
They run up and down the trail,
They wait for incoming mail.
They have to cut their hair,
All of this is too much to bare.
They get yelled at to their face,
They march at an unfamiliar pace.
They rappel down the muddy wall,
Which they say is five stories tall.
They sleep in a small bed with no heater,
But then the day comes when they climb the Grimm Reaper.
They will serve this great nation,
But for now they're at Graduation.
Now they march looking lean and mean,
And you'll know that he truly is a U.S. Marine.
poem by Quinn Callahan
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Onward
Don't we all wonder, remotely
- in ways we cannot even fully understand -
'What's this all about? '
Age has invaded our mind
and hearts.
Onward we march.
Life has invaded our spirits
and souls.
As onward we march.
The future flows right on past
behind us.
And yet onward we march.
Living is a passing glance
a long goodbye.
Onward we march.
Where we are bound
no eye has seen
no tongue can tell
no mind does fathom.
Still onward we march.
On the trail of time lost
we take the exit to eternity.
Ever onward we march.
Do we wonder
what a wonder it is
that we're marching into?
We should.
We shall.
We are.
Through it all, onward we march.
Onward...
poem by Smoky Hoss
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March On Comrades, March On
Yonder in the East, our comrades are shouting,
Yonder in the East, our comrades are fighting,
Yonder in the East, our fate they are carving,
March on comrades, march on.
From the East, slogan is echoing,
Scrap automation, allow us due living,
It is bare minimum, is it much asking?
March on comrades, march on.
Make haste comrades, lest we be late,
The fight may be over and seal our fate,
Spurn the enemy with due hate,
March on comrades, march on.
The posterity will curse us if we linger,
Firmly in unison let us march thither,
Smother all those who our progress hinder,
March on comrades, march on.
Let us herald The New Era in,
Whence no one shall trade in empty sermons,
When khadi capped traders shall be banished,
When doing and not talking shall be the criterion,
March on comrades, march on.
What if we perish in the process,
We shall have lived with a purpose,
We shall have met an honoured death,
Our goal so humble, our cause is just;
March on comrades, march on.
Empire State Human
Since I was very young I realised
I never wanted to be human size
So I avoid the crowds and traffic jams
They just remind me of how small I am
Because of this longing in my heart
Im going to start the growing up
Im going to grow now and never stop
Think like a mountain, grow to the top
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
With concentration
My size increased
And now Im fourteen stories high
At least!!
Empire state human
Just a bored kid
Ill go to egypt to be
A pyramid
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters
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You March On
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
Look back, never, even by mistake
forget, never, the hardships you bore
guide, will be your past deeds of life,
full of pangs on the bed of stake
What holds destiny?
Not to worry?
............Just march on, march on, march on.
Adversities make you a fast learner
Desires are snakes, so be a shirker
search the deep sea to find a pearl
get to the shore, while facing the whirl
Think never to be feeble & meek
deliver everyone from the misdeeds
while truth you seek
clear all hurdles regaining your strength
you will reach the destination
march on...march on....march on.
Carve out your name on the horizon
as your stars are on the ascendant
work towards the goal night and day
be illuminated in such a way
sluggish should appear the milky way
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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What's worth fighting for?
Soldiers march
march
march
march
march
wait ing for that first gunshot
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiti ng
whats wroth fighting for they wonder
whats there for me?
will you lead me away?
or leave me lying here?
yes i am a soldier now
but far away in the distance a voice calls
remember yourself and your life
your a soldier now fighting in a battle to be free once more
that's worth fighting for
poem by Marley Pullen
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Ricochet
Like weeds on a rockface waiting for the scythe
Ricochet - ricochet
The world is on a corner waiting for jobs
Ricochet - ricochet
Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Men wait for news while thousands are still asleep
Dreaming of tramlines factories pieces of machinery
Mine shafts things like that
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet - its not the end of the world
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet - ricochet
These are the prisons these are the crimes
Teaching life in a violent new way
Ricochet - ricochet
Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Early, before the sun, they struggle off to the gates
In their secret fearful places they see their lives
Unravelling before them
March of flowers - march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet its not the end of the world
Thats when they get home, damp eyed and weary
They smile and crush their children to their heaving chests
Making unfulfillable promises
For who can bear to be forgotten
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Kargil War-song
March Ye forward, O Indian sepoy!
’Tis wartime again on land, sea and sky;
Our foes occupy the Kargil hills O boy!
And mountains and vales, where war-planes can’t fly.
March Ye forward, O Indian soldier!
The north-west sky is filled with smoke and fire;
Kashmir’s vale’s at stake, so is the frontier;
The enemy has the vantage, not attire.
March Ye forward, O Indian jawan;
Ye flush out the intruders everyone;
Climb the mountains by night and strike by dawn;
Give thy precious life to silence their gun.
March Ye forward, March Ye forward, nev’r stop;
Hoist the Indian tricolor Kargil-top!
poem by John Celes
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Marzo Pazzo
Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,
Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn's arch
Hails re-risen again from the dead
Mad March.
Soft small flames on rowan and larch
Break forth as laughter on lips that said
Nought till the pulse in them beat love's march.
But the heartbeat now in the lips rose-red
Speaks life to the world, and the winds that parch
Bring April forth as a bride to wed
Mad March.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Rain of March
The Fitful Showers of March
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.
For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.
poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee
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Ides of March
The Ides of March come.
Seven days preceding the 15th day
Of every other month.
What significance did the Romans give this?
And 'why' is the 13th of October their 'ides'?
Outside of poetic expression,
What value does 'ides' have?
And whose ides come to visit you and when?
Will they be in March, May, or July?
And then...
Will you notice them?
My mother use to say,
When I was a child and extremely naïve...
'The Ides of March will soon be upon you.'
I thought she meant 'eyes'!
Needless to say,
I was glad when March came and went away!
Not realizing then...
Every other month from March also had 'ides'.
I still want to know,
What importance do these 'ides' have and why?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just March(ing) Along..
When Winter begins
to lose His touch
and his buddy Jack Frost
don't hang 'roun as much..
The days will be one day
all sunny and warm
then by morning wake up
to a winter snow storm
March isn't winter
spring, summer or fall.
March seems to be marching
into changing it all.....
March is a beginning.
March is a end.
Winters defeater (the spring time leader)
March is marching spring in...
poem by Connetta Jean
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The march of conquest through wild provinces, may be the march of Mind; but not the march of Love.
quote by Herman Melville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They also Serve after John Milton On His Blindness
'They also serve, who only stand and wait'
survivor said, regretting others' fate.
'They also serve who wait without the gate'
time-server said, observing patron's gait.
'What service, light denied, anticipate? '
'Light - despite paradoxical life's plate! '
They're served, who only put on weight, expand,
whose judgement lies, so heavy on the land.
They swerve from justice, who, with heavy hand,
pervert the law, - for which they should be damned.
They wait, who only seem to serve and stand,
beware! a revolution is at hand.
To stand and wait in life to some seems nice
to taste of time, like salad, lacking spice!
(28 March 1981 revised 7 August 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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More on March
March, that in-between month,
like a woman turning hot and cold,
not wanting to commit.
March is a b.itch.
Can't say I'm impressed by March
but prefer it to February,
that non month, best ignored,
or gotten over with real quick.
March is a better month than that,
nearer to Spring
as evenings grow warm
and girls do their thing.
Kicking and screaming
I step back from a December dawn.
Time marches on
as old age beckons.
Damn it, I will not wrinkle.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Jennifer’s Lad
SWEET Jennifer came calling me
Along the shining beach.
'There's green upon the hawthorn tree
There's bloom upon the peach.
O, April's found the upland larch,
The hazel in the hollow,'–
But louder was the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And clearer called the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
Young Jennifer came seeking me
With love upon her lips.
'O, all kind angels keep the sea
And fortune guard the ships.
The Autumn winds have rent the larch,
The south has won the swallow,'–
But clearer beat the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And sweeter sang the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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March
Tenderly stepping on the last snow
The first of March is coming.
Spring will release the love arrow,
Beautiful songs of love humming.
The feeling of spring is known to all,
It happens every coming year.
My loving spring has no wall,
Its sounds I can clearly hear.
March is a harbinger of changes.
It smiles happily together with me.
Its grace has the wide ranges:
New natures wonders we'll see.
March - without experience at all,
Hastens through the dew or snow,
Like a young and naïve girl,
Afraid her gratefulness to show.
March will surely find its way.
It's free, it's swift, affectionate.
April will come, and then May.
What a fantastic natures state!
Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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March, March, Ettrick and Teviotdale
I.
March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,
Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order!
March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,
All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border.
Many a banner spread,
Flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story.
Mount and make ready then,
Sons of the mountain glen,
Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory.
II.
Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing,
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.
Trumpets are sounding,
War-steeds are bounding,
Stand to your arms, then, and march in good order;
England shall many a day
Tell of the bloody fray,
When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Border Ballad
March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,
Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order!
March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,
All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border.
Many a banner spread,
Flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story.
Mount and make ready then,
Sons of the mountain glen,
Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory.
Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing,
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.
Trumpets are sounding,
War-steeds are bounding,
Stand to your arms, then, and march in good order;
England shall many a day
Tell of the bloody fray,
When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Nanny's Chore - 0112 - Initial Version
Falls with full force
on all fours.
Crawls on the floor,
muddy paws.
Calls from the door,
sobbing sore.
Dressed in small drawers,
bawls for more,
and more, and more,
poor Nanny's chore!
(24 March 1976)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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