The Journey
The time is not here nor is it far,
were awaiting the day for the journey to start,
we'll pick up our bags and walk down the streets,
together we'll stand as troops an as fleets,
together we'll stare heads held up high,
awaiting the time to live or to die,
but when will it come we surely dont know,
awaiting the day on a journey we'll go
Brilliant poem.
I wrote a poem on Poppy day about our wonderful troops. So heroic. They deserve all the respect in the world.
if ppl dont wanna read they just wont click thread
Tommy
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!
They are great!
Had a little boy at school in tears today cuz his Dads just gone back to Afghanistan! Proper choked me up watching him cry! I have to say i broke the rules and gave him a hug! Couldn't watch him cry!
x
AA Rudyard Kipling who also wrote (or chose) the epitaph of unidentified soldiers fallen in the first world war. "A soldier of the great war known unto God" That isnt the origin of "Tommy" Tommy Atkins was a generic name for a soldier before WW1.
Great poem Abacus sorry didnt say sooner.
My favourite is below made famous by President Reagan after the Challenger disaster
It was written after Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee flew a Spitfire. Magee was an American volunteer pilot in the RCAF written a few months before his death
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gillespie_Magee,_Jr.
"High Flight"
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Ork wrote:
Catnip wrote:
They are great!
Had a little boy at school in tears today cuz his Dads just gone back to Afghanistan! Proper choked me up watching him cry! I have to say i broke the rules and gave him a hug! Couldn't watch him cry!
x
It's against the rule's to comfort a crying child? What is this world cominh to?
Great poem Abacus, so if this another one then is there not an official war poem thread or something?
I'm afraid it is! Crackers is what i call it! x
I love good poetry like good song lyrics I just wish I had the talent
One for you Ork
In Flander fields by Major John McCrae.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
During the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2nd May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.
As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.
I once got lost at night in north west France suddenly I noticed the fields were white in my headlamps, I was driving between the commonwealth war graves from the Battles around Ypres and Paschendale, the white headstones looked like snow in the lamps, an awesome and sobering sight.
Ork wrote:I believe world war one was probably the darkest time of our race ever to befall us war is a terrible thing but when you try to comprehend the scale of it all it's insane
Ork its the same here in Germany every little village has a small memorial with the names on it, frightening how many from one family died. I know Germans attract little sympathy but from here they were just farmers doing what they were told.
To add black comedy to the situation my great great uncle was killed by a London bus in the blackout while on leave from the front.
We all have our cross to bear, the vast majority in Germany are peace loving and civilised however in 5 yrs I have met a few ultra right wigers and make no mistake I give them both barrels and the whole nine yards. However as a Brit I have been berated by Indians about Amritsar, Chinese about the opium wars (Thurso harbour was built with drug money) Italians about the flatening of Italian cities after they had joined us.
The most bizzare was an Italian giving me grief about the conduct of Admiral Nelson
ah k thank for the info when i have more i will create a thread purely for my poems thanks didnt think lol