I´ve started to become interested in war poetry after I found out how many of the lads that actually had put down their thoughts as poetry.

So I thought I would start a post on this topic. If you have a poem you want to share with us; let's try to gather them here.

I’ll start with this one by David J Delaney.

New Generation Veterans.

We honour our old veterans, we honour them with pride
and read of all the horrors they have carried deep inside.
We know they served in Asia or New Guinea’s highland rains,
Vietnam or in Africa where many men were slain.

We know that fateful landing on Gallipoli’s dark shore,
wherever Aussies fought, we know there are so many more,
but now a new young generation needs our help as well,
they too have been to war and suffer with their private hell.

Though losses are not classed as great, their fears are just the same
those electronic hidden bombs, still injure, kill or maim.
They fight against an enemy they find so hard to see
who mingle in the market place, then cause much tragedy.

Insurgents in Afghanistan hide in the rough terrain
or roaming in Iraq, where, wearing robes they look the same.
The suicide stealth bombers, don’t care who they hurt or kill,
then, with their own beliefs, they try to break our forces will.

Our fighting Aussie spirit shows on any foreign land,
they’re in the skies, they’re on the sea, or on the desert sand.
Now many are returning with the horrors they still see
and living with their nightmares, suffering bureaucracy.

I know on ANZAC day, we all remember with a tear,
but all vets young or old, they need our help throughout the year,
support and listen to their stories, when they do get told,
lets honour our new veterans, just like we do our old.

Sunset Vigil by Sgt Andy McFarlane

The news is spread far and wide
Another comrade has sadly died
A sunset vigil upon the sand
As a soldier leaves this foreign land

We stand alone, and yet as one
In the fading light of a setting sun
We’ve all gathered to say goodbye
To our fallen comrade who’s set to fly

The eulogy’s read about their life
Sometimes with words from pals or wife
We all know when the CO’s done
What kind of soldier they’d become

The padre then calls us all to pray
The bugler has Last Post to play
The cannon roars and belches flame
We will recall, with pride, their name

A minute’s silence stood in place
As tears roll down the hardest face
deafening silence fills the air
With each of us in personal prayer

Reveille sounds and the parade is done
The hero remembered, forgotten by none
They leave to start the journey back
In a coffin draped in the Union Jack

I suppose this is the one thread that has the most golden nuggets in it.
Have a read.

POET'S LAIR

KJ sends..

Originally Posted by KJ

I suppose this is the one thread that has the most golden nuggets in it.
Have a read.

POET'S LAIR

KJ sends..

Damn, damn damn!
There already was a thread about this.
Poor mission preparation made ​​by the undersigned.

Cheers!
Lieutenant Sonny Fuzz.

Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,
When the troops come marching home again, with gold and gallant tread,
But look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die.
Caroline Elizabeth Norton (1808-77) SOLDIER OF THE RINE

The war is over now.
Vultures wheel at heights from which the mountains are only rumpled white rock patching the curved earth.
The birds’ center-magnified vision sees all:
The kingdoms ravaged, fields un-harvested, rotting in early winter rain. Men and others huddle in their villages against famine and death, while in the cities songs are sung of heroes victories.
Vultures avoid the cities of Men. The dead tossed over the walls stink of plague.
The war is over.
The abandoned strongholds are desolate now beyond even vultures‘ picking.
And vultures follow the Last Battle‘s soldiers in their refugee bands, waiting as they take forts and castles, hold them for a time, lose them to their lawful owners or (more often) to larger marauding bands. leaving enough behind to glut the vultures so that they can barely fly.
The war is over. This is peace.
Vultures circle at heights where, like the fields of destruction beneath, the only rules are those of hunger.
Mary Gentle GRUNTS:

Great poems!!

There may be what tortures you.
There may be what reduces you to silence.
There may be what fails to satisfy you.
There may be what irritates you.
and
There may be what Grieves you.
But man has to train himself by enduring these things.
Isoroku Yamamoto, Admiral of the Imperial Japanese Navy

Proudly you gathered, rank on rank to war,
As you heard God’s message from afar;
All you had hoped for, all you had, you gave
To save mankind-yourself you scorned to save.
Old Valiant Hearts, John Stanhope Arkwright

Let others glory follow
In their false riches wallow
And in their grief be merry
Leave me but love and sherry
Richard Lovelace, Cavalier poet

When you go home
Tell them of us, and say;
For your tomorrow,
We gave our today.
British memorial at Kohima, CBU WW II

The Universe exist in chaos;
Man is the measure of the Universe.
The ultimate chaos of mans existence is War;
By mastering War, we master the Universe. Unknown to me

“Just a Common Soldier”, A. Lawrence Vaincourt
He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.
And tho’ sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.
He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won’t note his passing, though a soldier died today.
If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

"The Golden race is with the gods, who are in heaven, in the fixed sphere, who chiefly hold command in the providence exercised toward men. Of those who die in military service…shall we not say they are
chief of the golden race?" Plato

I went to see the soldiers by Kenny Martin


I went to see the soldiers, row on row on row,
And wondered about each so still, their badges all on show.
What brought them here, what life before
Was like for each of them?
What made them angry, laugh, or cry,

These soldiers, boys and men.
Some so young, some older still, a bond more close than brothers
These men have earned and shared a love, that's not like any others
They trained as one, they fought as one
They shared their last together
That bond endures, that love is true
And will be, now and ever.

I could not know, how could I guess, what choices each had made,
Of how they came to soldiering, what part each one had played?
But here they are and here they'll stay,
Each one silent and in place,
Their headstones line up row on row
They guard this hallowed place.

HEARTBEAT FROM GLORY (memorial day),
Michael Anderson

Row by row the markers stand
Flags wave, old cannons rust
On this day that we recall
Those who died for us

Give a speech and lay a flower
Pray no more will die
Honor those that died in War
Answering a call

Hereos teach us how to live
Dead soldiers teach us how to give

In memory of sacrifice
When someone died fore me
From Gettysburg to Vietnam
Stalingrad to Calvary

No man loves more than he
Who lays his life down for his friend
They died while we carry on
A war that never ends

Men who gave all they could give
Men who died so we could live
And when we feel the warm spring sunshine
And when we see the flowers watered in the rain
We feel the hand of God upon us
And nothing sacrificed in love will die in vain

None of us can stand alone
We all need a helping hand
Some’s sacrifice for you
Forced them to take a stand.

THE FINAL
INSPECTION
The Soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass..
'Step forward now, Soldier ,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.


And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear..
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.


I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears


If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.


There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.


'Step forward now, you Soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'


Author Unknown~