Poetry Thread

Sonic67

I think we need one. What say you? Post a poem:

DPinBucks

A good idea, but:

Moderator: what is the situation re copyright on this forum? Wouldn't want to upset anyone.

Anyway, assuming that it's other people's poems you want, and not mine, herewith one of my favourites:

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Marvell, To his Coy Mistress

Sonic67

This was read out at a vigil service recently:

I was that which others did not want to be.
I went where others failed to go,
And did what others failed to do,
I asked nothing from those who gave nothing
And reluctantly accepted the thought
Of eternal loneliness, should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror,
felt the stinging cold of fear,
and enjoyed the sweet taste of a moments love.
I have cried, pained and hoped . . . but most of all,
I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say
that I was proud of what I was.

IronGiant

That's quite a good question...

Let me ponder it a while. In the meantime keep posting

Dave

Sonic67

This made me smile:

I first met her in Cairo,
I fancied her on sight,
But she gave me a glassy stare,
When my lips met hers that night.
To me she was so beautiful,
Tall with a golden tan,
And her effervescent sparkle,
Would please 'most any man.
She was so cool and tempting,
Her dress was paper thin,
And as I madly tore it off,
I knew that I would win.
I held her tightly in that bar,
I was hot, my throat was dry,
I took her without a struggle,
There was no protesting cry.
I took her back to share with friends,
She was passed from man to man,
She was drained of all she had to give,
As only soldiers can.
Now, as I lay upon my bed,
I wish that she was here,
But I've only the empty bottle,
That was filled with Stella beer.

Sonic67

The flash, the bang, the brick dust, the smell of acrid smoke.
The soldier was just sitting there, had that all been a joke?
The instant, searing pain had gone, and now he looked around.
The buildings & the streets had gone, no pavements on the ground.
He looked around in panic, his comrades were not there.
The whole patrol had been as one when he’d walked into the square.
He stood & stretched, then reached down for his rifle & his pack,
The valley stretched in front of him, there was no turning back.
The grass was green, the cloudless sky was clear, but no sun shone,
No living thing, no bird, no bee, he was the only one.
The direction of the winding path he could not guess, or tell.
He did not know that journey's end was the other side of hell.


A figure walked towards him, & now his spirits rose,
The man must be a soldier, he was wearing soldiers clothes.
A tunic red, a cross belt white, a musket held at ease.
He met up with our traveler beside a grove of trees.
"Hullo," said our man with a smile, "I think I’ve lost my way.
I must get back to Belfast town before the close of day."
"That's a problem," said the man, "I'm not sure what you'll do,
This area is for all the lads that fell at Waterloo."
He pointed far across the vale, towards a distant mound.
"I have heard tell that others occupy that forward ground.
Just follow on until you hear the tolling of a bell,
And you will surely find the route to the other side of hell."


With smile & wave our soldier left his new & helpful friend,
And presently the track swung left, around a sunken bend.
A group of men stood in a trench, the grass had turned to mud.
They were dirty & disheveled, & one's head was caked with blood.
"Stay down, that man!" Their leader cried, "To stand invites a bomb!
You don’t go strolling round like that when fighting on the Somme."
"I'm sorry, sir," our soldier said, "but I think I'm lost,
I must rejoin my unit soon, I cant regard the cost."
The Captain frowned, then crawled across to where the soldier lay.
He pulled a map case from his side, and pointed out the way.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, I didn't mean to yell,
But please keep low, or you wont reach the other side of hell."


Our young man crawled, until he felt that it was safe to stand.
Then marveled how the land had changed, the mud becoming sand.
A burnt out tank now greeted him, two soldiers at it's base,
A can of tea was boiling up, a smile upon each face.
"Na then, me lad, doest want a brew?" the grinning Corporal said,
"It's strong & thick, & would even put a smile upon the dead."
The soldier joined those Desert Rats in that barren, timeless place,
And drank with them the tea that put the smile upon his face.
He thanked them both, then asked again directions to his goal,
The smiling corporal's message added laughter to his soul.
"Just cross those dunes, and soon you'll get that old familiar smell,
That lets you know that you have reached the other side of hell."


The black & threatening streets, with burning cars, now filled his view,
And soon our hero saw some other soldier's that he knew.
Near seven hundred other men assembled in that place,
And others too would soon set out, the lonely path to trace.
He took his place along with mates that he would always see,
Fighting there on ghostly streets for all eternity.
All soldiers who for centuries died with weapons in their hand,
Will always have a place reserved here in Valhalla's land.
And whilst their Earth bound friends forget the sacrifice they made,
And whilst cenotaphs are vandalised, & children'' memories fade,
The fight goes on, with soldier's new, so we will always tell,
The stories of the men who've seen the other side of hell.

M1kee

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Some poems rhyme,
And others don't.

Don't worry about copyright, feel free to use this as required

^^^^^Great poem by the way Sonic67 ^^^^^

Sonic67

A few for today:

Medals

Don't envy a man his medals
All those ribbons on his chest
He did not try to get them
They're not there at his request
They were earned in stinking hell holes
Where no man would like to go
Or in cold and wintry places
Where there's only ice and snow
He did not know he earned them
Till they were awarded at parade
And they were bright when he first got them
But in time the colours fade
He was told he had to wear them
And to wear them all with pride
But when the memories come to haunt him
Those same medals make him hide
Cause those medals will not bring back
All those guys he left behind
And he would trade them all forever
For a little peace of mind
So don't envy a man his medals
You don't want to take his place
Thinking back to long gone battles
And meeting dead friends face to face

Sonic67

THE MEMORIAL

We tried, we tried, Oh God we tried
So we could be here too
And walk around remembering
And look for names we knew

Our lives were lost so far away
Upon a distant shore
But we are here in memory
As you read our names once more

Remember us, Remember us
Although we're truly gone
Remember us, as we once were
And not just names in stone...

Sonic67

Just a Common Soldier

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.

Though, sometimes to his neighbours, 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’ll not be mourned by many just his children and his wife
For he lived an ordinary quiet and 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.

When politicians leave this earth their bodies lie in state
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great
Papers tell their life stories from the time that they were young
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife
Goes off to serve his country and offers up his life?

A politician’s stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives
While the ordinary soldier who offers up his all
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps a pension small.

It’s so easy to forget them for it was so long ago
That the “Old Bills” of our country went to battle, but we know
It was not politicians with their compromise and ploys
Who won for us the freedom that our country now enjoys

Should you ever find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again
For when countries are in conflict then we find the soldiers part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start

If we cannot do him honour while he’s here to hear the praise
Then at least let’s give him homage at the endings of his days
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper would say
“Our Country Is In Mourning- For A Soldier Died Today”

A. Lawrence Vaincourt WW2 RCAF Veteran Written 1985