For The Fallen by Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad
shout;
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.”
Henry Van Dyke
Naming of Parts
Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But today,
Today we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighbouring gardens,
And today we have naming of parts.
This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.
This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.
And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.
They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For today we have naming of parts.
by Henry Reed
Suicide in the Trenches
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 youll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
by Siegfried Sassoon
English Pronunciation For Foreigners:
I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble but not you
On hiccough, thorough,laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish perhaps,
To learn of these familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead,
For Goodness' sake, don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat,
They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth, in brother,
And here is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there's does and rose and lose-
Just look them up: and goose and choose,
And cork and work and card and ward
And font and front and word and sword.
And do and go and thwart and cart-
Come, come, I've hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I'd mastered it when I was five!
And yet to write it, the more I sigh,
I'll not learn how 'til the day I die
On yonder hill..
there stood a coo..
it must have moved,
'cos it's no there noo.
mate sonic those are some class words... have you got any funnies??
I bet you could!!!!
Peace
Ned
I like military poems and poems about England but I've got lots.
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.
JK Chesterton
Postpals asked me to give this a bit of wider attention.
BBC NEWS | England | Southern Counties | Creating hope with 'happy post'
Please read! Inspirational poem by Alice who is 13 and fighting cancer, it was written for a fundraising race
When I'm feeling tired and weepy
and things aren't going my way
I watch others take for granted
that they'll see another day
When I feel afraid and all alone
and my mum feels this way too
I take a minute to reflect
On the things I'd like to do
I'd like to have a sailing yacht
and travel oceans far
Leave footprints sunken in the sand
No need to have a car
But for now my lines are busy
taking chemotherapy
To help me in my fight against
the cancer that's in me
I came here to this race today
for those who fight like me
Let's join together, one BIG team
'cos it's not beating me!
Post Pals - Post a Smile on a Sick Child's Face
My Montage 9/28/09 at One True Media - share slideshows, slide shows, Facebook slideshows, free video sharing, video montages.
Remember Piper Alpha
Come In Standby Vessel
It's Alpha Sixteen
It's A Comfort To Know
That You're There On The Scene
I Have A Desperate Feeling
This Midsummer's Night
There's A Stillness Unusual
Something's Not Right
The Day Shift Is Sleeping
The Hour Is Nine
There's A Valve That Is Missing
On A High Pressure Line
The Stillness Is Broken
What A Terrible Howl
Demented And Rabid
Like Wolves On The Prowl
The Gas Is Escaping
Now Fire Teams Wait
There's A Call For Muster
But I Fear It Is Too Late
An Inferno Is Escaping
God! I'm Standing Alone
The Steel It Is Melting
Like The Flesh From Our Bone
Look! Here Comes The Tharos
But It's Doing No Good
Now Black Smoke Engulfs Us
Like A Hanging Mans Hood
Oh! The Fire It Is Spreading
And Panic Is Rife
A Scaffolder Cries Out
Then Jumps For His Life
There's Men Going Crazy
And Screaming In Pain
The Sounds Of The Dying
It Drives Me Insane
Up On The Derrick
A Roughneck In Vain
Screams For His Mother
To Come Ease His Pain
Another Explosion
God! That Makes It Three
The Quarters That We Live In
Now Slide To The Sea
Inside Men Are Weeping
Not Really In Fear
The Thoughts That Torment Them
Are The Folks They Hold Dear
For Never To See Them
Saddens Their Heart
For Death And Oblivion
Will Keep Them Apart
And Now Occidental
Your Debt You Must Pay
For The Death And The Sorrow
You Caused That Day
God! I Hate All These Bastards
Who Don't Give A Damn
All Bosses And Thatcher
We Know You're A Sham
A Word Of Condolence
Then You Leave Us To Grieve
While You Sit In Your Penthouse
And Laugh Up Your Sleeve
So Remember The Piper
You Who Are To Blame
When You're Sent To The Devil
To Burn In His Flame
To The Lads Of The Piper
You've Not Died In Vain
We'll Remember You Always
And Inherit Your Pain.