You Like To Talk About War Heroes
You like to talk about war heroes I'll take you to meet one today
On warm days he sits on a park chair from here in distance a short walk away
In him you may feel disappointed he is frail and aged and gray
He has blocked out most of his war memories of war he has little to say.
He is not your idea of a hero but heroes they too do grow old
Just one more forgotten old warrior the years on him in wrinkles have told
He fought under the flag of his Nation in his Country he had great pride
A survivor of the war trenches where thousands of brave young men died.
He lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in a cold and drafty place to live in
Yet in his early twenties he was a decorated soldier and medals for his bravery he did win
For him it has all come to nothing and on the reaper's call he wait
On war memorial day he does not walk in the parade he feels no cause to celebrate.
You like to talk about war heroes you come for a short walk with me
And sitting on a park chair in the sunshine a war hero in the flesh you will see
Long before your father was born he fought in a war from here far away
He is the last of his battalion his war comrades amongst the dead lay
poem by Francis Duggan
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Your Hero
The heroes of the masses they live for their renown
And the masses create their heroes and then drag their heroes down
And the masses are unpredictable they change from day to day
And some of their heroes like the Autumn flowers are quick to fade away.
Yet there are millions of unsung heroes and they live on every street
And every day a hero I feel privileged to meet
True heroes male and female yet by the masses unsung
The World is full of heroes of heroes old and young.
Some heroes of the masses are arrogant and proud
And their egos over-swollen from the adulation of the crowd
But give me the unsung heroes who go their own quiet way
Who out of the kindness of their hearts perform one good deed every day.
Many heroes of the masses are not heroes to me
Though every day I walk the street some true hero I do see
Your hero is chauffeur driven and drinks the most expensive wine
And you can have your hero but your hero isn't mine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Your Hero Will Never Be Mine
By the way you talk of your hero one would swear out of him the sun shine
Don''t try to convince me of his worth your hero will never be mine
To me your hero is responsible of crimes against humanity
Because of him thousands have died and thousands more maimed and injured why do you talk of him to me.
Our values are so very different I''m not saying you are wrong and I''m right
The one that you say is your hero I look on as a lesser light
I won''t argue with you about politics that''s not why I came in here tonight
I came here for a few quiet drinks and all I need is peace and quiet.
Go tell someone else of your hero since of him I do not wish to hear
You know how I feel on that subject so leave me for to drink my beer
For an argument you seem to be looking though for such I am not in the mood
You tell someone else of your hero forgive me if I do seem rude.
I don''t talk to you of my heroes as my heroes would seem cowards to you
But each to their own I believe in and those words as ever ring true
How come all of your heroes are war men did war ever solve anything
The war dead we well may remember but they can''t hear those whom their praises sing.
Don''t talk to me about your hero his type to me does not appeal
''Twould seem you are trying to annoy me since about him you know how I feel
I came here just for a few quiet drinks and since your hero is not a hero to me
Go talk to someone else about him and with what you say they may even agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just One More Dead Hero
So much about his courage we have heard of and read
So sad about the brave man so sad to hear he's dead
A decorated soldier from a war far away
The Reaper claimed the life from him suppose he had his day
One the nationalists and patriots used to celebrate
But with the coward and the traitor he shared a common fate
Not one to respect money or bravery or fame
To the Reaper the life of the coward and the hero are equal and the same
Though memories of the man he was will take some time to fade
Next year he won't be around to march in the war veterans parade
Ninety two when he died his best days long gone
Just one more dead hero and life does go on
The coward and the hero and those of wealth and fame
Are made equal by the Reaper he treats them as the same.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Losers Never Write The War History
The losers never write the war history that's something we already know
Yet for the many wars fought through the ages we do not have the wisdom to show
That victory too comes at a huge cost for war the price is huge to pay
For families who grieve for their dead members their sense of loss with them will stay
Until they themselves go to the reaper the reaper who claims one and all
The loved one war had taken from them with great sadness they will recall
But the dead to life cannot be returned better to live as a coward than die brave
For none has yet come back for to tell us that there is a life beyond the grave,
They died for their God and their Country of dead war heroes some well may brag
Those who place too much worth on the unknowable and the colour of their Nation's flag
I for one find religion and patriotism confusing of god and war heroes hymns and songs are sung
But surely it is a misnomer that only the good do die young
And yet from war we have not learned young lives are lost for wars to be won
And if lasting peace ever does come it won't be through the barrel of a gun
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Was Raised On Rebel Music
I was raised on rebel music and rebel verse and song
That stirred up patriotic feelings but could not right a past wrong
And what now does it matter when all is said and done
Forget the long dead heroes and battles lost and won.
The ballad of Robert Emmett and Wolfe Tone's lonely grave
Were such men quite foolhardy or were they truly brave?
To be hung drawn and quartered for your beliefs is not a pleasant thing
And little value to them now if others of them sing.
The ballad of Sir Roger Casement also known as The Lonely Banna Strand
Executed as a traitor to his Nation but a hero in Ireland
A hero to one can be a villian to another at least that's what they say
And for love of his adopted Country with his life he had to pay.
I was raised on rebel songs and stories such as those men of ninety eight
And in every war that has been fought new heroes they create
But what value are dead heroes they are helpless where they lay
And their too brief lives were wasted seeing war is still waged today.
The founders of the Land League live in Irish history
Parnell and Michael Davitt I learned of their bravery
John Mitchel the Young Ireland leader by boat transported many a sea mile
To Van Diemen's Land in Australia to imprisonment and exile.
I was raised on rebel music and rebel verse and song
Of brave young men who died for their Country to such a background I belong
But I never wished to emulate them never even as a boy
I would rather grow to be an old man and of natural causes die
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Philosophy of Heroism
heroes are not easy to come by
heroic acts are a different story.
heroism a flag bestowed unfurled
live in the annals of moral sacrifice.
spilled his guts saving lives of others
courage to suffer and still carry on,
most heroically did so in silence
oh hero hero who do not cry out
his or her deeds carried by waves,
of ethics moral and agreed upon,
live on by consensus annd canon
of each era, we salute you one and all
Oh dear me! is a Nazi soldier a hero
who gave his life for his comrades
of a diseased inhuman ideology
a hero too?
are not women who suffer daily
selflessly help their children grow up
not heroes of heroic heroism
suffer the yoke and burden of a warped society
are not the accidents of genetic mishaps heroes,
heroes of statistics and those of accidents,
and those of injustice heroes,
of paying the price of survival for other regarding
Oh my kind listeners come tell me one and all
is this philosophy not far fetched and lopsided
and there is no such concept called hero,
take your medals put them under your pillows
take the stories and legends, myths and magic
are the fancy of the narrator pleasant to listen
and muse of sacrifice and other regarding
acts so noble and fascinating of wonder and admire
still there are some that are more heroic if only by
comparison indelible in our memory for ages to come
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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On The Execution Of Timothy McVeigh
He will be long remembered due to his heinous crime
For such barbaric acts of cowardliness don't fade away in time
Because of him one hundred and sixty eight had died and he left many with horrific injuries
And memories of him will live on like all bad memories.
But before condemning Tim McVeigh we ought to not forget
That there are as bad still alive as he who will never be put to death
Who are looked upon as heroes where can one draw the line?
So many innocents have died in the name of war yet to many that seems fine.
The leaders who have ordered foreign cities to be bombed from the carnage far away
Live in happy retirement our ageing heroes of today
The blood of innocents on their hands but that seems quite okay
But the wrongs and rights of the taking of human life not for mankind to say.
The war leaders order their fighter pilots to bomb cities far away
But for acts of terror in their homeland there is all hell to pay
And Tim McVeigh for act of terrorism died tightly strapped to a chair
Whilst the one responsible for thousands of deaths lives as a free millionaire.
One seen as a villian and the other a hero though I see them as the same
For one cannot make an excuse for brutal acts of shame
One died though lethal injection the other ageing and gray
Lives in the lap of luxury and a hero still today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He Is His Father's Son
His father a decorated soldier a noble hearted one
And he the ballad singer sings of battles fought and won
A true chip of the the old block when all is said and done
He has his father's D N A and he is his father's son.
'Tis not to listen to war ballads that I have come in here
I came in for to quench my thirst with a cool frothy beer
He ends another war song to another loud encore
Yet why do they applaud him and beg him to sing more?
His songs fire the patriotism in them by keeping old wars alive
And ballads of old soldiers insure that wars survive
The songs he sing are very old and have been often sung
Of brave men who risked their lives in war and of brave men who died young.
He sings of young men who went to war that was the choice they made
These old men now who on war memorial day march in the big parade
With their bravery medals on display they won't leave old wars die
The war that was to end all wars another old war lie.
The son of a war hero of war he choose to sing
Though too much of patriotism is not a healthy thing
A true chip of the old block when all is said and done
He has his father's D N A and he is his father's son.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Heores
Heroes
Being a hero means little to me,
For I have see men labeled as a coward die as a heroes
And men called heroes run like cowards.
A name means nothing when it is all outside
And being called a hero is only a name.
For I have seen countless men live and die,
As only a hero could.
And yet they received nothing more,
Than a little golden star.
Countless heroes have lived and died,
But only a few ever truly earned such a title.
A true hero never worries about titles,
They do what is needed no matter the price.
A true hero is willing to make,
That ultimate sacrifice.
They will lay down their lives,
For their brothers-in-arms,
And give what they can for all those they love.
That is why I willingly gave,
My right leg for the man standing beside me.
I gave what I could so that he would live,
Hoping that he would do the same for another.
poem by Chad LaRowe
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Old Jimmy
With the aid of walking stick he shuffles down the side street and time has left him looking stiff and gray
And truly it can be said of old Jimmy that he is one who has known a better day
Ageless father time takes care of everybody there was a time when he could run quite fast
But now he only can walk at a slow pace and all of his better days are in the past.
He was a football hero in his heyday the best on ground in nineteen forty one
The day that his club played in the Grand Final without him the Premiership could not be won
Close to his prime and in his early twenties on looking back that seems so long ago
It's true that time leaves it's mark on everybody the man who once ran fast now walking slow.
The hard games of football he played in now on him telling he has arthritis in his painful right knee
An injury that forced him into retirement when he was past his prime at thirty three
Back in the forties and fifties he was a football hero but football heroes like the seasons come and go
And that he once was a Grand Final hero is something few young people wish to know.
Old Jimmy slowly shuffles down the side walk a mere shell of the man he used to be
In forty one he starred in the Grand Final when he was near his prime at twenty three
And father time has left his mark on Jimmy and time 'tis said for anyone doesn't wait
And the grim reaper will take the king and pauper and the grim reaper will take the football great.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Real Hero
A REAL HERO
Some people come into our life and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.
We admire some people because they are good at what they do and we want to be like them.
Both actions and character are keys to what it takes to be a hero. Perhaps a person is your hero because he or she is extremely honest, or may be that person fought to improve a bad situation or helped someone in great need.
Recipe of a hero: Although heroes are unique, there is a common denominator. A hero makes a difference to the lives of others, often without fanfare. The influence of a hero's actions can live long after the actual deeds are forgotten.
A hero models the great possibilities of the human spirit. This can help us discover our own talents and heroic qualities.
But remember: Heroes are only human. They may not do everything right all the time.
Learning to understand their mistakes and putting them into perspective is a sign of maturity. So imitate the good in others, while always trying to be our own unique best selves.
poem by Bhumika Wadhwa
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Heroes
There are no super heroes in this world,
but there are heroes abound.
They are ordinary people
just like you and I.
They cannot leap tall buildings
with a single bound,
or scale walls with their fingertips.
They cannot fly without wings,
nor stop speeding cars
just by standing in front of them.
What they can do and do
is go out of their way to save lives.
They want no recognition
for the risks they sometimes take.
A spur of the moment action
is all their bravery takes.
They put their lives on the line
so others may live,
and then walk away from it
when it is all over
as if nothing happened at all.
These heroes have names and faces,
but are hardly known at all.
They are never out for fame,
just to help another living thing
that may be in distress.
Some are recognised and honoured;
others just go on their way
becoming unsung heroes
who just saved the day.
For all those unsung heroes
who are around us every day
this poem is my tribute
to you one and all
with a big thank you from us all.
You have shown us what real courage is.
You may not be known to many,
but to those you’ve helped
they will always remember you
as being the hero there
when they needed one the most.
20 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Along The War Avenue Of honour
Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.
Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.
The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.
Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Forgotten Hero
He rambles, solitary along the streets, His body enervated with aching feet,
He’s spent half his life deserted and alone, Heading for destinations unknown.
His clothes are soiled, rancid and torn, The shoes on his feet are totally worn,
A carrier bag holds his only effects, An outcast, an exile one of societies rejects.
Just a forgotten hero, who done his country proud,
But now he is forgotten, just a beggar in the crowd.
He’s an old man now, going on seventy four, A veteran and hero of the second world war,
The medals on his chest, he will not trade, They’re just a small reminder of the price so many paid.
A heroes welcome he received, in 1945, Now he struggles day by day just to stay alive,
By day he sits there begging, with memories in his head, Of the wounded and the dying and the ones he left for dead.
Just a forgotten hero, begging amongst the crowd,
Huddled in a doorway, a blanket, his only shroud.
The blinds of darkness are pulled upon day, It’s time to find a place to stay,
Headed for the local park, He makes his way through the shadows of dark.
It’s minus two and he shivers alone, Stretched out on a park bench, his icicle home,
The sequestered memories of his life flash by, As his haggard body let’s out a sigh.
Just a forgotten hero, sleeping out in the cold,
A park bench as a bed, no place for the old.
He’s found in the morning, by a passer-by, She stares, sheds a tear and asks herself why,
He’s no longer a burden or public liability, now that he’s found his peace, and tranquillity.
On his grave there is no inscription, No cross or stone of any description,
A mound of earth marks where he lay, But he’s still not known, even to this day.
Just a forgotten hero, who done his country proud,
Not even missed by the apathetic crowd.
poem by welshrebel GMR
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier
He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.
Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.
The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.
Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.
That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.
With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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War Never Solves Anything
Of battles won and noble soldiers you hear the old balladeer sing
But war only brings death and suffering and war never solves anything
And the mental scars of war keep festering long after the battle does end
You badly injure or kill someone's loved one that person will not be your friend.
For God and the flag of their Nation too many in battle have died
And the Government honour war heroes in their false show of patriotic pride
But the fact is their young lives were wasted and the fact with us sadly remain
That old battles are never over and for old grieviances human blood spilt again.
War weaponry and explosives big business in a World where human life is taken cheap
By some a human life seen as of no more value than that of a cow's or a sheep
From history we have not learned the war supposed to end all wars long gone
Yet every day more violence and terror and war and war mongering lives on.
Of battles won and acts of war bravery so many songs written and sung
And war instigated by old men must always be fought by the young
But the song for the young dead war hero to the hero's mum to it has a bitter ring
And war is a waste of human life for war never solves anything.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Most Humans Crave For Glory
That most humans crave for glory is surely not a lie
And though you well may love your Country for your Country why should you die
Since dead heroes like dead cowards cannot help their Country in any way
Whilst alive you can help your Country even though you look old and gray
The dead hero cannot hear the bugler when the last post it is played
Though some may say his ghost is present at every war parade
The deserter is dishonoured from the fight he ran away
But to his Country he's of some use he's alive and well today
The dead hero he is honoured though to him that of no use
For to justify their recent war the war leaders use the war dead as an excuse
For another bloody battle a war they themselves will not fight in
Though in every war that ever was humanity did not win
You cannot serve your Country by dying for it so live for as long as you can
And die hopefully a painless death as a very old man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Heroes Are Dead!
Like sacrificial lambs
were heroes quite dead,
with courage they thread
the fate that others feared
to die for sake of majority.
No matter what obstacles
or threats to their mortal lives
heroes dare risk their own honor
to prove the innocence of victims
who succumb to the devilish souls
Heroes stand for justice
and bring back the lost pride
grabbed and stolen by loan sharks
whose only concern is self interest
to enrich more thus wrecking the poor
Heroes deserve a monument
as memoir of their great sacrifices
in every race and country a hero is born
who fights against dictators of destruction
Heroes are the epitome of social justice
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Unsung Heroes
Everyday somewhere in the world
another unsung hero is born.
Someone who is willing,
to lay his life on the line
to save another living creature,
on this wonderful planet of ours.
To go out of their way,
and risk life and limb to save something,
from danger and certain death.
These unsung heroes don’t want medals,
glory or even fame.
In fact, most would walk away afterwards,
without anyone ever knowing their name.
It is not that they feel guilty.
They just feel that they haven’t done
anything that is special
or something someone else
wouldn’t have probably done.
Therefore, to all those unsung heroes
this poem is just for you.
For all the lives that you save
each and every day.
poem by David Harris
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Without Death, Bloodshed and Suffering
Without death, bloodshed and suffering wars are never won
And only hatred and grief survives when the fighting is done
And war heroes honoured in every war street parade
By war men the memories of war not allowed for to fade
The politicians the praises of the war dead do sing
Their politicizing of war for sake of power not an honourable thing
For God, Flag and Country and National Pride
Far too many good young people in wars have died
one war leads to another war as the wise one did say
And millions for patriotism in wars with their lives do pay
For the sake of war the war men create us against they
And for the love of a flag the young and brave die in wars today
And on Rememberance Day the war men parade up and down
In a show of patriotism through the streets of the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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