Discuss 2 Moving Poems in Poetry Corner on The Army Rumour Service; OK lads - thanks to my last thread being p1ssed all over by chebbies, I am starting a new one. Please enjoy my two poems and I look forwars to your comments - NOT ABUSE ...
OK lads - thanks to my last thread being p1ssed all over by chebbies, I am starting a new one. Please enjoy my two poems and I look forwars to your comments - NOT ABUSE LADS PLEASE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE! . As promised, here is the full version of 'Looking Back':
Winchester station was cold and was quiet,
Just me and the Smudger and young Billy Myatt,
Faces all tense and eyes wide-eyed,
As we made our way out to the Bedford outside.
I remember the statue of old Sir John Moore,
And the Section Commander: 'Get outside!' (of the door).
I think of the smell of the kiwi and oil,
And feeling my lightweights at one with the soil.
The marching we did stood us out from the crowd,
140 to the minute makes families so proud,
Many weeks training and then 'Oh my Lordy',
Battalion in life in all it's mad glory.
The friends that we made then still float on the tides,
Even the old lads who rubbed stingy-stuff in our eyes.
Battalion life was good but made richer,
By the addition of a gyros and a pils 4-pint pitcher.
Now we are older but memories still linger,
Of Gornji and Jajce and old Tito's Finger.
If it wasn't for the Regiment making me INFANTRY
The council would have had me, employed doing bin-fantry.
Another one of mine for those who missed it on the thread that was RUINED. It's about xmas but just go with the flow and enjoy, eh?
I went to the mountains on a bright clear day,
There was snow on the ground and birds in the hay,
I wished with my heart that I'd gone out in May,
But that choice doesn't exist for a SOLDIER.
Now I sit here in Kent and look out at the sky,
And my thoughts turn to Christmas - another minced pie,
But out in other mountains the lads now ask 'why?'
But that choice doesn't exist for a SOLDIER.
We are safe in the UK but not everyone is,
We listen to Slade while they listen for the whizz,
Of a mortar just fired by a terrorist in a tizz,
Because he can't really fight like a SOLDIER.
And sometimes we ponder at the rememberance house,
How the patrols left the bases as quiet as a mouse,
But no one tries to shoot us inside our own house,
and for that you can salute like a SOLDIER.
So remember the lads upon this merry Christmas morn,
And think of the injured all twisted and torn,
And think while you drink with Mum and Uncle Shaun,
That you owe your Christmas cheer to a SOLDIER.
I usually encourage people to embrace their Creative sides. In your case, I suggest you use a claw hammer to smash your hands up so you can never type again.
If it wasn't for the Regiment making me INFANTRY
The council would have had me, employed doing bin-fantry.
WTF is Bin-fantry? Is that similar to Fire-fantry and Ambulance-fantry and kill-a-cow-fantry?
Edited to ask... Are you in the Army or a 14 year old kid doing GCSEs? (PS, if the latter, you're going to fail)
Hmmm...let's see...it's the former you shiney-arsed chebber. Are you actually in the army or do you shuffle paper for a living and call yourself a 'soldier'??
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