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There are many poems on this topic on The War Poetry website. http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/
On Radio Watch
ReplyDeleteBoots up on desk, all’s quiet, it’s two thirty a.m.
Bored, I read a book, or clean my rifle, or think about home
Especially home
Christmastime’s been and gone, they celebrated without me
Yet with me, strangely
There’s no sound on the radio, nothing’s going off tonight
Whoosh, flash, the schermoulie’s gone up
BOOM! I’m startled from my reverie
The loudest noise I’ve ever heard
I fall from my chair
Shit, what the hell was that?
Mate, wake up, something’s going off tonight
Frantically turning the radio dial
Still nothing
Did I miss the tell-tale?
Trying to stay calm, but my heart’s beating like a machine gun
Stood down, there’s no-one injured this time
Could have sworn there was nothing going off tonight
by Russell Makinson
England
I write this poem from personal experience of my time in Afghanistan. For those who don't know, a schermoulie is a night-time illumination flare, and on this particular night was set off by the guard of the base when he spotted some unexpected movement outside the base.
A Mourning Soldier.
ReplyDeleteRow upon Row carved in to stone,
the names of the soldiers, who never came home,
You recognise many but there were some that you knew,
Your friends that shared moments on tour with you.
You may feel guilt that your'e stood there today,
and all you can do, is a poppy wreath lay,
but treasure this silence and know deep inside,
they fought for their country, their kingdom their pride.
So take your memories, knowledge and thought,
stand proud at this memorial for those who have fought,
for you were the lucky one, you came back home,
be proud my man, for your never alone.
By Hannah Carpenter Author of I am with you.
This was written after going to The national war arboretum to lay a poppy wreath for my fiances friend who he shared a tour with.
Still In Arms
ReplyDeleteR.M. Jacobs
Breathe,
breathe,
breathe in,
hold,
breathe out slowly.
Push, cry
wail,
push, cry
breathe – breathe in,
thank God.
He’s
okay,
ten
ten fingers, ten toes.
Holding him in arms
close to my breast
nurturing his needs
so easy
when he was
ten moments into
life outside
of me.
Now
ten
ten thousand kilometers away
still in arms
but differently
I wonder
does he cry,
does he breathe,
is he ten hundred years old
outside
of everything?
This was the first of a series that began when my son was deployed in 2009/10. I write from the helpless emotions contained in the wait, wait for word, wait for calls, wait for the return.
We didn’t eat well, in the 'stan'
ReplyDeleteWe didn’t eat well, in the 'stan'
The blood, the rats, and congealed sand
From bullets to bombs, from mud to guts
To broken children and terrorist hunts
We didn’t eat will, in the 'stan'
What hope we had to clear this land
We cried we laughed, we died as well
This life of war, is a life of hell
We didn’t eat well, in the 'stan'
I've shaken it now, I must I'm a man
I'll never forget the bonds forged
Nor the torso's, the legs, the arms just torn
We didn’t eat well, in the 'stan'
My mother would kill me if she know who I am
I served with honor, I laughed at fear
I cry in my sleep now, of the devils snear
We didn’t eat well, in the 'stan'
The rats they loved it at the Trench café stand
Ill hope for my brothers, the ones that are gone
To their kids sing daddy is brave and strong….
Jason Owen (AUS)
Fallen Soldiers
ReplyDeleteAs I watched the trucks go by
With two caskets lined up side-by-side
I could not help but wonder
At the Essence of our grief
As we gave our salutes goodbye
Under the moonlit sky
The mountains were clothed in serenity
As the valley dust whistled in the air
The words of Sisyphus harkin to our ears
That life’s laden tasks are ours to bare
And
As I watched the plane arrive
With two caskets waiting side-by-side
I could not help but wonder
At the nature of our lives
As the tears began to fall
Under the moonlit sky
The Engines Roared to life’s unrest
As voices echoed a world’s lament
Sisyphus rises to thoughts reborn
As we wait at heaven’s gate
And
As I watched the crew walk by
With two Caskets lined up side-by-side
I could not help but wonder
At the pain they held so dear
As our fear began to rise
Under the moonlit sky
The tractor’s squealed as if in pain
Their burden’s heavy without refrain
Sisyphus weeps as if to say
Two more hero’s have died today
And
As I watched the base go by
With two caskets flying side-by-side
I could not help but wonder
At the nature of our quest
As the air grew cold
Under the moonlit sky
The Clouds hover beneath our wings
As angels sing our souls to flight
We fell to man’s disgrace
As others toil in our wake
And
As we watched the crowds go by
Our caskets moving side-by-side
We could not help but wonder
At the nature of their cries
As the hatred filled their eyes
Under the moonlit sky
The soundless tremors of the earth
Lay quiet before the storm
As Sisyphus rises to wage his war
We each decry our given fate
And
As we watch our families go by
Our two caskets lined up side-by-side
I could not help but wonder
At the nature of our lives
As the love streamed from their eyes
Under the moonlit sky
My name is Lewis Campbell, each line of this
poem represents one fallen soldier's pass and review as their bodies were taken to a waiting plane to be delivered home
I wrote this during the 18 months of my last tour in Afghanistan.....