Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, 18 July 2009

Sunset Vigil: a soldier's poem for the fallen










Staff Sergeant Andrew McFarlane is serving in Afghanistan. He wrote this poem after hearing of the deaths of eight fellow soldiers.

Sunset Vigil

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

Wednesday, 22 April 2009

''Hooray for Heroes'' by B. Markey







The Royal Anglian Regiment,
Protectors of our nation,
Your selfless heroic actions,
Fill us with elation.

You are one among the many,
Who give us so much pride,
Your honour and your bravery,
No one can deride.

Our forces fight the world over,
Freedom is their goal,
They lay their lives on the line,
Sacrifice their very soul.

When they come home from war zones,
We must thank them for what they've done,
Welcome them with open arms,
They're our heroes every one.

They volunteer their services,
In the war against oppression,
They are special human beings,
Who stand up to all aggression.

Our nation must stand by them,
We must let the sceptics see,
If it wasn't for their bravery,
They would not be free.

So to all of their abusers,
We must make it clear,
Without our forces heroism,
They would not be here.

Where were these protesters,
When dictators ran the show,
Hiding in their corners,
They just didn't want to know.

Because of our democracy,
These people have a voice,
Back in their ancestral homes,
They never had that choice.

If they're so against the west,
Leave and turn out the lights,
But they're just a bunch of hypocrites,
Who prefer our human rights.

Every one should be arrested,
They have given us good reason,
For slandering our brave forces,
'' They Should All Be Charged With Treason ''

Thursday, 3 April 2008

Жди меня и я вернусь - Wait for Me

WW2 poem by Konstantin Simonov - written November 1941
Wait for me and I'll return, only wait very hard.
Wait when you are filled with sorrow as you watch the yellow rain.
Wait when the wind sweeps the snowdrifts.
Wait in the sweltering heat.
Wait when others have stopped waiting, forgetting their yesterdays.
Wait even when from afar no letters come for you.
Wait even when others are tired of waiting.

Wait for me and I'll return, but wait patiently.
Wait even when you are told that you should forget.
Wait even when my mother and son think I am no more.
And when friends sit around the fire drinking to my memory
Wait and do not hurry to drink to my memory too.

Wait for me and I'll return, defying every death.
And let those who do not wait say that I was lucky.
They will never understand that in the midst of death
You with your waiting saved me.
Only you and I will know how I survived:
It was because you waited as no one else did.

visit aquilavictrix.com Great Patriotic War

Link> Константин Симонов: Жди меня, и я вернусь
Link> YouTube: Жди меня (wait for me)bekle beni
Link> YouTube: Жди меня (Poem Wait for me)

Sunday, 7 October 2007

Do not call me, Father

Russian poem from 1942

(Son to Father…)
Do not call me, father. Do not seek me.
Do not call me. Do not wish me back.
We’re on a route unchartered, fire and blood erase our track.
On we fly on wings of thunder, never more to sheathe our swords.
All of us in battle fallen – not to be brought back by words.

Will there be a rendezvous? I know not. I only know we still must fight.
We are sand grains in infinity, never to meet, nevermore to see light.

(Father to son…)
Farewell then my son. Farewell then my conscience.
Farewell my youth, my solace, my one and my
only.

Let this farewell be the end of the story,

A solitude vast in which none is more lonely,
In which you remained barred forever
From light, from air, with your death pains untold.
Untold and unsoothed, never to be resurrected.
Forever and ever an 18 year old.

Farewell then.
No trains ever come from those regions,
Unscheduled and scheduled.
No aeroplanes fly there.

Farewell then my son,
For no miracles happen, as in this world
Dreams do not come true.

Farewell.
I will dream of you still as a baby,
Treading the earth with little strong toes,
The earth where already so many lie buried.

This song to my son, then, is come to its close.


Extract from a poem by Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Pavlovich Antokolski who was killed in action on 6th June 1942.

Visit aquilavictrix.com for the full poem