Discuss Poetry? Maybe it isn't all arty farty bull? at the Poetry Corner forum within the The Army Rumour Service website; This will be what a recent breakup, a bottle of wine and a book from ...
This will be what a recent breakup, a bottle of wine and a book from when you joined the military book club years ago, but just came across this from JK Chesterton of all people. Never knew he did war poetry but there you go:
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And birds and bees of England
About the cross can roam.
But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.
And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England
They have no graves as yet.
And of course the old Kipling classics:
COMMON FORM
If any question why we died,
Tell them, because our fathers lied.
AN ONLY SON
I have slain none except my Mother. She
(Blessing her slayer) died of grief for me.
As proof that the beancounters have always done their utmost to deny our Navy (and other defence forces) sufficient money to do the job, here are snips from a poem called HMS Foudroyant by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:
Who says the Nation's purse is lean,
Who fears for claim or bond or debt,
When all the glories that have been
Are scheduled as a cash asset?
If times are bleak and trade is slack,
If coal and cotton fail at last,
We've something left to barter yet
Our glorious past.
Right - back to self indulgent misery making. This one never fails to get me, even in a good mood:
The Life That I Have
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.
He subsequently gave the poem to Violette to use on her second mission. She asked who had written it and he promised to find out and tell her when she returned. Violette never did return.
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches,cowed and glum.
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain,
No one spoke of him again.
You smug faced crowds with kindling eye,
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Oh, thanks very much Idontbelieveit - like I was cheerful before
Some more Sassoon:
The Bishop tells us: 'When the boys come back
They will not be the same; for they'll have fought
In a just cause: they lead the last attack
On Anti-Christ; their comrades' blood has bought
New right to breed an honourable race,
They have challenged Death and dared him face to face.'
'We're none of us the same!' the boys reply.
'For George has lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind'
Poor Jim's shot through through the lungs and like to die;
And Bert's gone syphiliticl; you'll not find
A chap who's served that hasn't found some change.'
And the Bishop said: 'The ways of God are strange.'
Am I really trading poems on Arrse at half midnight?!
Showers make you sheepish.
Baths make you bashful.
Use lots of shower gel, or you will smell..
Don't forget your rubber duck
...Or take your partner in, to fcuk.
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