View Full Version : Poetry is for Fags
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:02
Just to aggravate the Team Sergeant a little. LOL:munchin
Short verses instilling warrior spirit if you please. Please attribute appropriately.
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:03
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"
And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"
Isaiah 6:8
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:03
THE MASTER OF THE CARAVAN
But who are ye in rags and rotten shoes,
You dirty-bearded, blocking up the way?
THE PILGRIMS
We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go
Always a little further...
The Golden Journey to Samarkand - James Elroy Flecker 1884-1915
ok, not poetry, but inspired by the 2 food threads...
"If they wanted me dead, they were going to have to put out more effort than merely watching me starve."
James N. Rowe.
Team Sergeant
03-30-2004, 22:11
I'm the 82nd Airborne, this is as far as the Bastards are going! Pfc. Haught 325GIR in the Ardennes 1944
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:14
LOL - GREAT Stuff, boff of em. :munchin
Fate slew Him, but He did not drop --
She felled -- He did not fall --
Impaled Him on Her fiercest stakes --
He neutralized them all --
She stung Him -- sapped His firm Advance --
But when Her Worst was done
And He -- unmoved regarded Her --
Acknowledged Him a Man.
--Emily Dickinson
If that's not the description of a soldier, I don't know what is.
--Dan
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:18
Ok, Dan, maybe I need to change the titl...Never mind.
BTW, disclaimer: The title of this thread in no way implies any disrespect to the gay community in general or sacamuelas in particular. It refers to the Brit term for cigarettes.
Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.
~ Homer
"We have shared the incommunicable experience of war; we have felt, we still feel, the passion of life to its top."
~Oliver Wendall Holmes, Jr. "The Solider's Faith"
"I like a little rebellion now and then. It is like a storm in the atmosphere."
~Thomas Jefferson
"There is a sobbing of the strong, And a pall upon the land; But the People in their weeping, Bare the iron hand; Beware the People weeping, When they bare the iron hand."
~Herman Melville
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:23
"Molon Labe!"
Spartan General-King Leonidas to Xerxes, the Persian Emperor who came with 600,000 of the fiercest fighting troops in the world to conquer and invade little Greece
Surgicalcric
03-30-2004, 22:23
"Life is no life to him that dares not die,
And death no death to him that dares not live."
-- Sir Henry Newbolt.
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:24
Go tell the Spartans, travelers passing by, that here, obedient to their laws we lie.
Unknown
Team Sergeant
03-30-2004, 22:25
"Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. You won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country."
General George Patton
"Freedom is a two edged sword of which one edge is liberty and the other responsibility, on which both edges are exceedingly sharp; and which is not easily handled by casual, cowardly or treacherous hands. For it has been sharpened by many conflicts, tempered in many fires, quenched by much blood, and although it is always ready for the use of the courageous and high hearted, it will not remain when the spirit that forged it is gone."
John Whiteside Parsons
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:26
"There is no avoiding war, it can only be postponed to the advantage of others."
Niccolo Machiavelli
Surgicalcric
03-30-2004, 22:27
On Normandy's green fields
where the hedgerows still run
and the sands on the beaches lie quiet as air;
on the bluffs stand the cross
and the star white and pure;
the flag of our fathers flies high in the wind.
The battlefields calling,
are seen by a few
who have traveled so far,
to set down their memories
for buddies they've loved.
And each waning day,
as the sea mourns alone,
the soft sound of Taps
flows over the fields,
saying yes, we remember,
the brave deeds you've done,
we remember your faces eternally
young.
-- John Kent
Team Sergeant
03-30-2004, 22:30
"I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."
Admiral Yamamoto
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:30
DAMN! Pulque's got game with that one from Parsons - I like that one a lot.
LOL - Reaper's going to be pissed I did Molon Labe.
Damn, this thread grew fast. May I suggest we split it into verse (my favorite), and a (probably much larger) quotations thread?
--Dan
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:33
"This one is free, the next one will be a warning shot to the temple."
Ambush Master c. 2004
LOL
"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty."
~~John F. Kennedy
"Ask not alone for victory, ask for courage. For if you can endure, you bring honor to yourself. Even more, you bring honor to us all."
~~Unknown
Surgicalcric
03-30-2004, 22:35
In war there is no prize for the runner-up
--General Omar Bradley
It is fatal to enter any war without the will to win it.
--General Douglas MacArthur
Surgicalcric
03-30-2004, 22:36
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.
--Psalms 27 1-3
DunbarFC
03-30-2004, 22:37
"I once met three guys named pain, suffering and sacrifice. Now we're inseparable, we're best friends." Lance Armstrong
. . . Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
--Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Something for you old folks out there. :D
--Dan, gets paid to study this stuff. really.
Surgicalcric
03-30-2004, 22:40
"I can hear you and the People who knocked these buildings down will hear from all of us soon".
--President George Bush
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:42
A NATION'S STRENGTH
What makes a nation's pillars high
And it's foundations strong?
What makes it mighty to defy
The foes that round it throng?
It is not gold. Its kingdoms grand
Go down in battle shock;
It's shafts are laid on sinking sand,
Not on abiding rock.
Is it the sword? Ask the red dust
Of empires passes away;
The blood has turned their stones to rust.
Their glory to decay.
And is it pride? Ah, that bright crown
Has seemed to nations sweet;
But God has struck its luster down
In ashes at his feet.
Not gold but only men can make
A people great and strong;
Men who for truth and honor's sake
Stand fast and suffer long.
Brave men who work while others sleep,
Who dare while others fly...
They build a nation's pillars deep
And lift them to the sky.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Smokin Joe
03-30-2004, 22:43
"When all others turn away, the task is left to you and those with whom you serve."
Minamoto Musashi, 1626
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:45
MEDALS
Don't envy a man his medals
All those ribbons on his chest
He did not try to get them
They're not there at his request
They were earned in stinking hell holes
Where no man would like to go
Or in cold and wintry places
Where there's only ice and snow
He did not know he earned them
Till they were awarded at parade
And they were bright when he first got them
But in time the colors fade
He was told he had to wear them
And to wear them all with pride
But when the memories come to haunt him
Those same medals make him hide
Cause those medals will not bring back
All those guys he left behind
And he would trade them all forever
For a little peace of mind
So don't envy a man his medals
You don't want to take his place
Thinking back to long gone battles
And meeting dead friends face to face
Unknown
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 22:45
A CREED
....Edgar Guest
Lord, let me not in service lag.
Let me be worthy of our flag.
Let me remember when I'm tired,
The heroes who have died.
In freedom's name and in my way,
Teach me to be as brave as they,
In all I am, in all I do,
Unto our flag I would be true.
For God and country let me stand,
Unstained of soul, clean of hand.
Teach me to serve and guard and love,
The starry flag that flies above.
DunbarFC
03-30-2004, 22:48
"To read without reflecting is like eating without digesting."
"There is no safety for honest men but by believing all possible evil of evil men."
"Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little."
Edmund Burke
One of my favorites....
King Henry: What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin.
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
God's will, I pray thee not wish one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor do I care who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace, I would not lose so great an honor
As one man more, me thinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach for this fight,
Let him depart. His passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand o' tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse himself at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors
And say "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian."
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
Old men forget; yet all be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall be remembered--
we few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispian's day.
NousDefionsDoc
03-30-2004, 23:04
The only thing about this mission we
Disliked was knowledge that our failure to
Return would be a veil to hide our fate
Forever from the people who should know.
But even this could not put down our high
Excitement as we dropped into the pit
Of night and listened, after parachutes
Were open, to the fading motors of the plane,
Remembering the pilot's grin
And the good luck sign already a vision from the past.
Whatever ground it was that rose to meet
Our groping feet, you may be sure it gave
Us all the cloak and dagger stuff that we'd been itching for.
In secret files, in secret hearts.
Joseph A. Bourdow OSS
Infantry Journal , June 1948
Smokin Joe
03-30-2004, 23:21
Gypsy you beat me to it...but here is another of my favorites
"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the walls up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood."
-- King Henry V before the attack on the city of Harfleur
Smokin Joe
03-30-2004, 23:26
In the simple performance of duty,
he pinned on a badge,
checked his gear with a practiced eye,
and kissed his loved ones good-bye.
In the simple performance of duty,
he reported for work,
joked with his buddies at roll call,
and made his last trip down the squadroom hall.
In the simple performance of duty,
he answered the call
to help the helpless, to find the lost,
no matter the danger or how great the cost.
In the simple performance of duty,
he lay down his life,
for those in peril he tried to save,
our brave friend went to his grave.
In the simple performance of duty,
we honor his deed,
as we carry him to rest in a flag-draped casket,
long after the world has forgotten, we shall never forget.
Never judge or regret, what he did, In the simple performance of duty.
Smokin Joe...that is another great one.
And your second...very touching, I haven't read that before.
Smokin Joe
03-30-2004, 23:37
This page (http://www.mixi.net/~thantos/mnpoem.htm) has all of my favorite LEO poems. Too many to post on here, and some are real tear jerkers.
Soldier
I was that which others did not want to be.
I went where others feared to go, and did what others failed to do
I asked nothing from those who gave nothing and reluctantly
accepted the thought of eternal loneliness...should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror; felt the stinging cold of fear;
and enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment's love.
I have cried, pained, and hoped...but most of all,
I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say that I was proud
of what I was .... a soldier.
George L. Skypeck
Dear Lord,
Thank you for the life you bestowed upon us,
and the opportunity in life to serve others.
We ask that you bless those we have left behind,
and comfort them in the knowledge that we died well.
Yet in death our spirit soars,
in our flag our honor waves,
and preserved in every Marine Sword,
the legacy of our deeds.
May we meet again on that field where Warriors meet,
in that place known only to God;
Go now,
I humbly ask,
and prepare a place for me.
AMEN
Sergeant Karl Clark Lippard
Last, one of my favorites:
An Irish Airman foresees his Death
I KNOW that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
- W.B. Yeats
Radar Rider
03-31-2004, 00:44
Originally posted by NousDefionsDoc
“Go tell the Spartans, travelers passing by, that here, obedient to their laws we lie.”
Unknown Have you seen the movie "Go Tell the Spartans"? If not please do. It is my favorite movie, and I'm sure that you would appreciate it, too.
Ockham's Razor
03-31-2004, 01:22
The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Radar Rider
03-31-2004, 04:57
"Iron Maiden" (the band) bases their songs on historical events. The song "The Trooper" details the tragedy of the charge of the light brigade. Quite the tragic event.
Not directly about warriors, but the spirit of it I feel is connected:
Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Ockham's Razor
03-31-2004, 06:39
Yay! A poem about death. Thanks for the inspiration, Solid.
Will not go gently into that good light.
"Do not go gentle into that good night (my own insertion: do not leave without a fight) Rage, RAGE against the dying of the light"
plays over in my head when I'm in what I percieve as a dangerous situation.
"Hard pressed on my right. My center is yielding. Impossible to maneuver. Situation excellent. I am attacking."
Marshal Ferdinand Foch, Battle of Marne
There is a similar quote which I believe came from Jerry "Mad Dog" Shriver, but I wouldn't feel right quoting it considering the number of SOG guys around here.
---------------
Some lines from songs and poems which are ostensibly anti-war, but whose lines can be interpreted with pride and emotion.
"Dolce et Decorum Est, Pro Patria Mori"
(General saying)
CCR- Fortunate Son
"Some folks are born, made to wave the flag
Ooh yeah, that red, white, and blue...
...Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask them, "How much should we give?"
They only answer "More! More! More!""
It's a strange phenomenon that anti-war songs from the Vietnam War era often have the inverse effect.
Solid
CommoGeek
03-31-2004, 08:16
William Ernest Henley. 1849–1903
Invictus
OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
CommoGeek
03-31-2004, 08:17
RENDEZVOUS
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air--
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath--
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Alan Seeger (1888-1916)
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste death but once.
--Shakespeare: Julius Caesar
You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than live as slaves.
--Sir Winston Churchill
"Heroism is endurance for one moment more." ~ Anonymous
"Given enough time, any man may master the physical. With enough knowledge, any man may become wise. It is the true warrior who can master both....and surpass the result." --Tien T'ai
I dislike death, however, there are some things I dislike more than death. Therefore, there are times when I will not avoid danger."--Mencius
"Without Knowledge, Skill cannot be focused. Without Skill, Strength cannot be brought to bear and without Strength, Knowledge may not be applied." --Alexander the Great's Chief Physican
I have a high art, I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me. - Archilocus, 650 B.C.
No man ever listened himself out of a job.
-CALVIN COOLIDGE
There ain't no rules around here!
We're trying to accomplish something!
-THOMAS EDISON
People who work sitting down get paid more than people who work standing up.
-OGDEN NASH
D9 (RIP)
03-31-2004, 10:51
In Flander's 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.
Lt Col John McCrae (1872-1918) - Canadian Army WWI
D9 (RIP)
03-31-2004, 10:56
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas shells dropping sofly behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Translation: Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori = it is beautiful and proper to die for the fatherland (i.e. nation)
Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)
D9 (RIP)
03-31-2004, 11:00
When I was a King and a Mason-a master proven and skilled-
I cleared me ground for a Palace such as a King should build.
I decreed and cut down to my levels, and presently, under the silt,
I came on the wreck of a Palace such as a King had built.
There was no worth in the fashion-there was no wit in the plan-
Hither and thither, aimless, the ruined footings ran-
Masonry, brute, mishandled; but carven on every stone:
"After me cometh a Builder. Tell him I, too, have known."
Swift to my use in my trenches, where my well-planned ground-works grew,
I tumbled his quoins and ashlars, and cut and reset them anew.
Lime I milled of his marbles ; burned it, slacked it and spread;
Taking and leaving at pleasure the gifts of the humble dead.
Yet I despised not nor gloried; yet as we wrenched them apart,
I read in the razed foundations the heart of that builder's heart.
As though he had risen and pleaded, so did I understand
The form of the dream he had followed in the face of the thing he had planned.
When I was King and a Mason-in the open noon of my pride,
They sent me a Word from the Darkness-They whispered and called me aside.
They said-"The end is forbidden." They said-"Thy use is fulfilled,
"And thy Palace shall stand as that other's-the spoil of a King who shall build. "
I called my men from my trenches, my quarries, my wharves and my sheers.
All I had wrought I abandoned to the faith of the faithless years.
Only I cut on the timber-only I carved on the stone:
"After me cometh a Builder. Tell him I, too, have known."
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
If you can't hack that then I would choose another profession. One where you don't have to take your man pill every day.
buckIVranger responding to AC wannabe c2004
I won't post it all here, but here is the last paragraph:
'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died,
"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
At the place where 'e is gone --
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
Rudyard Kipling
These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky. suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things
A. E. Houseman
Not Poetry, but very good None the less:
Executive Mansion,
Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.
Dear Madam,--
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.
I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.
Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. Lincoln
DoctorDoom
03-31-2004, 18:51
x
Robert Duvall as Hub in the film Secondhand Lions:
"Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most.
That people are basically good.
That honor, virtue, and courage mean everything; that money and power mean nothing.
That good always triumphs over evil.
That true love never dies.
Doesn't matter if they're true or not. A man should believe in those things anyway. Because they are the things worth believing in."
Hangs on my wall:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
In my wallet:
The Commando's Prayer
Give me, my God, what you still have;
give me what no one asks for.
I do not ask for wealth, nor success,
nor even health.
People ask you so often, God, for all that,
that you cannot have any left.
Give me, my God, what you still have.
Give me what people refuse to accept from you.
I want insecurity and disquietude;
I want turmoil and brawl.
And if you should give them to me,
my God, once and for all,
let me be sure to have them always,
for I will not always
have the courage to ask for them
Originally posted by Jimbo
Hangs on my wall:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
Jimbo, What is the Name of this poem? I have read it many times before, but the name escapes me.
the name of the poem is IF
NousDefionsDoc
04-03-2004, 23:18
Originally posted by Jimbo
In my wallet:
The Commando's Prayer
Give me, my God, what you still have;
give me what no one asks for.
I do not ask for wealth, nor success,
nor even health.
People ask you so often, God, for all that,
that you cannot have any left.
Give me, my God, what you still have.
Give me what people refuse to accept from you.
I want insecurity and disquietude;
I want turmoil and brawl.
And if you should give them to me,
my God, once and for all,
let me be sure to have them always,
for I will not always
have the courage to ask for them
I like that, British?
Originally posted by NousDefionsDoc
I like that, British?
Author: Corporal Zirnheld, Special Air Service 1942
http://www.iwvpa.net/zirnheldc/
Commando's Prayer is a classic.
Thank you for posting it.
Solid
Roguish Lawyer
04-06-2004, 12:02
Through a Glass, Darkly
George S. Patton, Jr.
Through the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.
In the form of many people
In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision
Of the Victory Maid, sublime.
I have battled for fresh mammoth,
I have warred for pastures new,
I have listed to the whispers
When the race trek instinct grew.
I have known the call to battle
In each changeless changing shape
From the high souled voice of conscience
To the beastly lust for rape.
I have sinned and I have suffered,
Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country,
And for each have found a grave.
I cannot name my battles
For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces
And I feel the rending spear.
Perhaps I stabbed our Savior
In His sacred helpless side.
Yet, I've called His name in blessing
When after times I died.
In the dimness of the shadows
Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood;
We used teeth before the sword.
While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.
Hear the rattle of the harness
Where the Persian darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic
From the Hoplite's leveled spear.
See the goal grow monthly longer,
Reaching for the walls of Tyre.
Hear the crash of tons of granite,
Smell the quenchless eastern fire.
Still more clearly as a Roman,
Can I see the Legion close,
As our third rank moved in forward
And the short sword found our foes.
Once again I feel the anguish
Of that blistering treeless plain
When the Parthian showered death bolts,
And our discipline was in vain.
I remember all the suffering
Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage
As I died upon my back.
Once again I smell the heat sparks
When my Flemish plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails
As on Crecy's field I lay.
In the windless, blinding stillness
Of the glittering tropic sea
I can see the bubbles rising
Where we set the captives free.
Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.
I have fought with gun and cutlass
On the red and slippery deck
With all Hell aflame within me
And a rope around my neck.
And still later as a General
Have I galloped with Murat
When we laughed at death and numbers
Trusting in the Emperor's Star.
Till at last our star faded,
And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of Ohein
Closed us in it's quivering gloom.
So but now with Tanks a'clatter
Have I waddled on the foe
Belching death at twenty paces,
By the star shell's ghastly glow.
So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names, but always me.
And I see not in my blindness
What the objects were I wrought,
But as God rules o'er our bickerings
It was through His will I fought.
So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.
Sorry to bring back this old post. This one is called Sgt. Mackenzie, and was written by Joseph Kilna MacKenzie to honor Sgt. Charles Stuart MacKenzie, his great grandfather, who was a sergeant in the Seaforth Highlanders and was killed in action in the first World War. The story behind the song is that he was shot in the arm and they sent him home and wanted to amputate it. He said, 'No. I need to get back to my men.' He died on the frontline, leading his soldiers.
The song is played near the end of We Were Soldiers.
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid
Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears
Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me
Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Once again, Too long to post here, but how about Horatius at the Bridge? Seems quite fitting for this board. Suprised it hasn't been mentioned yet.
Jack Moroney (RIP)
04-27-2004, 12:53
Originally posted by NousDefionsDoc
Just to aggravate the Team Sergeant a little. LOL:munchin
Short verses instilling warrior spirit if you please. Please attribute appropriately.
After an unsuccessful probe of an outlying village in the Central Highlands where the NVA managed to roll some grenades under the village chiefs hut, we held a little get together. It was a serious occassion and in deference to the chief we wore some traditional adornments awarded to us by the tribal leader for previous encounters with the NVA. While no one was killed in this attack he was really ticked. When I asked the village chief, who up to this point spoke to us normally in broken french and his native dialect how we could help him he lauched into an animated discussion with our Montagnard interpreter who sat there passively sucking in every word. When he was all done the interpreter, who was also my recon platoon leader, turned to me and with a big grin said, " Kick Ass". Now that is pure poetry, don't you think?
Jack Moroney
NousDefionsDoc
04-27-2004, 14:28
Absolutely.
Roguish Lawyer
04-27-2004, 14:56
LOL
Nothing lost in translation there!
Longstreet
02-16-2009, 10:58
Although rather cliche as I am sure everyone has heard this one, these words still echo in my head whenever I start off on a new uncertain endeavor.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
MEDALS
Don't envy a man his medals
All those ribbons on his chest
He did not try to get them
They're not there at his request
They were earned in stinking hell holes
Where no man would like to go
Or in cold and wintry places
Where there's only ice and snow
He did not know he earned them
Till they were awarded at parade
And they were bright when he first got them
But in time the colors fade
He was told he had to wear them
And to wear them all with pride
But when the memories come to haunt him
Those same medals make him hide
Cause those medals will not bring back
All those guys he left behind
And he would trade them all forever
For a little peace of mind
So don't envy a man his medals
You don't want to take his place
Thinking back to long gone battles
And meeting dead friends face to face
Unknown
Remember when this was originally posted in '04, and how life was looked at differently after reading it then, as well as now.
(Thanks NDD, Sir.);)
A great thread, glad it was bumped up!
Holly
One of my favorites.
Richard's $.02 :munchin
TOMMY
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
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!
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!
Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
R Kipling..
The last part was on several "business" cards of 5th SF(A) friends..
For a man that wrote childrens tails,, he sure had a feeling for the grunts..
Coldsteel24
02-16-2009, 13:10
I am a small and precious child, my dad's been sent to fight.
The only place I'll see his face, is in my dreams at night.
He will be gone too many days for my young mind to keep track.
I may be sad, but I am proud. My daddy's got your back.
I am a caring mother. My son has gone to war.
My mind is filled with worries that I have never known before.
Everyday I try to keep my thoughts from turning black.
I may be scared, but I am proud. My son has got your back.
I am a strong and loving wife, with a husband soon to go.
There are times I'm terrified in a way most never know.
I bite my lip, and force a smile as I watch my husband pack.
My heart may break, but I am proud. My husband's got your back.
I am a soldier. Serving proudly, standing tall.
I fight for freedom, yours and mine by answering this call.
I do my job while knowing, the thanks it sometimes lacks.
Say a prayer that I'll come home. It's me who's got your back.
Autumn Parker
"For a samurai, a simple word is important no matter where he may be. By just one single word martial valor can be made apparent. In peaceful times words show one's bravery. In troubled times, too, one knows that by a single word his strength or cowardice can be seen. This single word is the flower of one's heart. It is not something said simply with one's mouth. A warrior should not say something fainthearted even casually. He should set his mind to this beforehand. Even in trifling matters the depths of one's heart can be seen. "
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, The Hagakure
6.8SPC_DUMP
02-16-2009, 13:39
"If it isn't real - it won't work"
- John Perkins, American poet of the 20th-21st century
Surf n Turf
02-16-2009, 20:10
Shades of the dead, have I not heard your voices, Rise on the rolling breath of the gale?
Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, and rides on the wind o’er his own Highland vale
Ill-starred now the brave, did no vision foreboding, Tell you that fate had forsaken our cause?
Yet were you destined to die at Culloden, though victory crowned not your fall with applause.
Yet were you happy in death's earthly slumber, To sleep wi' your clan in the caves of Braemar. The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud number, Your deeds to the echoes of wild Lochnagar.
Lord George Gordon Byron - 1807
Go Devil
02-16-2009, 20:45
God of War
To break from her corrupt gaze is to live a life of peace and to harvest the fruit of life.
Sublime is her call; deceit pours like syrup from her full mouth.
I have followed her with multitudes of other young men, beating our chests, and pining for her hot soft skin.
Her touch is a haunting, and a horror in the night.
Her bosom is the grave.
mojaveman
02-16-2009, 20:57
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
Liked the last part. Kipling truely was one of the great protagonists of the British Empire. Does history really repeat itself?
Opportunity
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle's edge
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel --
That blue blade that the king's son bears -- but this
Blunt thing!" He snapt and flung it from his hand,
And, lowering, crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout
Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
- Edward R. Sill
The Tear in His Eye
The veteran represents a nation proud and strong;
Inspiring her to do what is right and not what's wrong.
Sadly he sits, and we are wondering as to why
This soldier of old has a tear in his eye.
Watching with disbelief so quietly, brave, and tall;
The nation he fought for is together for the good of all.
This obscured enemy will eventually learn about defeat
As God guides his nation back on her feet.
This veteran has witnessed her sufferings in the past -
Wars, assassinations, and the Oklahoma blast.
Now, we need not wonder why there's a tear in his eye,
As he watches the devastation that started in the sky.
The lives lost in Pennsylvania, Manhattan, and DC
Will not have died in vain, on this we all will agree.
So, to the veteran with the tear glistening in his eye,
We ask that you not worry on us you can rely.
The battles he fought helped mold us today;
The tear in his eye will now be wiped away.
His nation will comfort this veteran of old,
As the facts of what happened begin to unfold.
- Phyllis Hardin
greenberetTFS
02-17-2009, 13:22
Memorial Day
The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings today.
The road is rhythmic with the feet.
Of men -at-arms who come to pray.
The rose blossoms white and red,
On tombs where weary soldiers lie,
Flags wave above the honored dead,
And martial music cleaves the sky.
Above the wreath- strewn graves we knell,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel,
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.
May we,their grateful children learn,
Their strength,who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to learn,
At last the accolade of God.
In shining rank on rank arrayed,
They march,the legions of the Lord,
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace........Who brought a sword.
GB TFS
TOMAHAWK9521
02-17-2009, 14:20
God and the Soldier we adore
In times of trouble and not before
The danger passed and all things righted
God is forgotten and the soldier slighted.
-Kipling
metelliana
02-17-2009, 14:55
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LOQUITUR: En Bertrans de Born.
Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a stirrer up of strife.
Eccovi!
Judge ye!
Have I dug him up again?
The scene is at his castle, Altaforte. "Papiols" is his jongleur. "The Leopard," the device of Richard Coeur de Lion.
I
Damn it all! all this our South stinks peace.
You whoreson dog, Papiols, come! Let's to music!
I have no life save when the swords clash.
But ah! when I see the standards gold, vair, purple, opposing
And the broad fields beneath them turn crimson,
Then howls my heart nigh mad with rejoicing.
II
In hot summer have I great rejoicing
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace,
And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson,
And the fierce thunders roar me their music
And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, opposing,
And through all the riven skies God's swords clash.
III
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
And the shrill neighs of destriers in battle rejoicing,
Spiked breast to spiked breast opposing!
Better one hour's stour than a year's peace
With fat boards, bawds, wine and frail music!
Bah! there's no wine like the blood's crimson!
IV
And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson.
And I watch his spears through the dark clash
And it fills all my heart with rejoicing
And pries wide my mouth with fast music
When I see him so scorn and defy peace,
His lone might 'gainst all darkness opposing.
V
The man who fears war and squats opposing
My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson
But is fit only to rot in womanish peace
Far from where worth's won and the swords clash
For the death of such sluts I go rejoicing;
Yea, I fill all the air with my music.
VI
Papiols, Papiols, to the music!
There's no sound like to swords swords opposing,
No cry like the battle's rejoicing
When our elbows and swords drip the crimson
And our charges 'gainst "The Leopard's" rush clash.
May God damn for ever all who cry "Peace!"
VII
And let the music of the swords make them crimson!
Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash!
Hell blot black for always the thought "Peace!"
-- Ezra Pound
frostfire
02-18-2009, 23:53
I Have a Rendezvous with Death
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Alan Seeger*, 1888–1916
la Légion étrangčre
*He joined French Foreign Legion to fight for the Allies as America did not enter the war until 1917
Gentleman-Rankers. Won't post the whole thing, as it's one of Kipling's longer poems, but here's the end:
We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth,
We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung,
And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.
God help us, for we knew the worst too young!
Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence,
Our pride it is to know no spur of pride,
And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us
And we die, and none can tell Them where we died.
We're poor little lambs who've lost our way,
Baa! Baa! Baa!
We're little black sheep who've gone astray,
Baa--aa--aa!
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha' mercy on such as we,
Baa! Yah! Bah!
einherjar
02-19-2009, 16:55
I came across this poem in the book "On Killing" by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. The poem serves as the books Dedication, which has been my favorite part so far.
Not of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers
Riding triumphantly laurelled to lap the fat of the years,--
Rather the scorned -- the rejected -- the men hemmed in with the spears;
The men of the tattered battalion which fights till it dies,
Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries,
The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes.
Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne,
Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown,
But the lads who carried the koppie and cannot be known.
Not the ruler for me, but the ranker, the tramp of the road,
The slave with the sack on his shoulders pricked on with the goad,
The man with too weighty a burden, too weary a load.
The sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout,
The chantyman bent at the halliards putting a tune to the shout,
The drowsy man at the wheel and the tired lookout.
Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth,
The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth;--
Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth!
THEIRs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold;
Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould.
Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in the rain and the cold --
Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told.
AMEN.
A Consecration
John Masefield
I was trying do decide on which phrase or passage I liked best: It was a difficult decision, but I would have to say I like the last passage the best. Something about "...a mouthful of mould..." I think is really great.
Assyrian
02-20-2009, 06:43
"Do or do not... there is no try"
Yoda
"Do or do not... there is no try"
Yoda
Good quote, but this thread is more about poetry.
I was born in Middle East
I left to escape terror
My family came to America
To make our lives better
Mom and Dad worked
I got an education
Joined the Army
to show my appreciation
Now the region suffers
Worse than when we lived there
An evil man is charge
The horror's too much to bear
Let's go free the people
Who live in those lands
We're their other hope
In Iraq and Iran
Put down your signs
Come join our team
You have been lied to
War is not what it seems
I know you want peace
But your ideals are misguided
The world is not safe
Your views are one-sided
Let me go fight
Let me go win
Let my people be free
Now tell me: Are you in?
Matthew Guilanians
CPT, U.S. Army
"War is hell," while not quite true,
Expresses how we feel;
And, yet, to war we go anew
To quell a threat that's real.
We relish not the death and pain,
The loss of our dear sons;
But when the tyrants' terrors reign:
"Arise, courageous ones!"
Arise, rush forward to the fight,
Lift up sweet freedom's call--
If no one stands for what is right,
Oppression conquers all.
So--to the battle-line and wreak
Destruction swift and sure.
It is not power that we seek,
But life--for all--secure.
Tabitha Szalapski
The time has come for thunderbolts
Of steel from the sky.
It is now right that murderers
Instead of children, die.
They have forged chains and thumbscrews while
We have made pleas and threats.
The portraits of the killer smile
But he must pay his debts.
A mountainside is split in two,
His coward legions fall.
His shackled cities fade from view
Beneath a smoky pall.
Armored treads sound in the street,
The tanks are not his own.
He has bid many to be slain.
He'll face his death alone.
Cineas told Pyrrhus that
'Rome has a thousand heads.'
And Rome was a republic, strong
After that king was dead.
The tyrant butchers live in fear
And we go on and on.
A century shall find us here
And every tyrant gone.
Our carriers loom off his coast.
Our bombers fill his skies.
And brave, skilled men with stealthy tread
Prepare his grim surprise.
Grant, and Sherman, Patton, Greene
Have taught us to make war.
We now pick up their legacy
And free the world once more.
Rob Rice