[Lily Von Blitz]

~~~ POETRY OF WAR ~~~
[ a wide variety of poems relating to warfare throughout the ages ]

Please post your own new poems about War [ or war-related subjects ] in here?
Or post your favourite War poems [or song Lyrics] by other poets.
[ and classic poems from all the ages of warfare are welcome in here.]

And please post LINKS to special poetry sites and other poems?
--
If you are posting an old poem, please give full credit to the writer, and also giving us the year it was written [if you know?] would be most interesting aswell.
--
Here is one I wrote since I became a member here:

~~~ Curse of the Tigers ~~~

Among the roar of their smoking engines
and the grating rattle of spinning tracks.
The steel Tigers prowl surging forwards
billowing clouds of dust from their backs.

They ride with menace past tall cornfields gold
like grim hunting 'Beasts', mighty and bold.
Big steel 'Lances' point ahead like Knights of old:
long barrels hide deadly tales waiting to be told.

Dark shapes are spotted moving near the horizon.
Targets for eager gunners to keep their eyes on.
They engage the enemy with determined desire:
metal 'Dragons' belch forth loud thunder and fire.

Barrels recoil and discharge their piercing load.
In the distance, Tank targets are seen to explode.
Spreading hot seeds of doom all along the road:
in their wake only death and havoc are sowed.

Only the tracked lines torn through corn and hay
prove which armoured 'devils' have charged this way.
Wrecks burn and smoulder all along their smoky path
as the stalking 'monsters' seek to vent more dire wrath.

As the clouds clear again, on this long battle day
Tanks are desperate to find and slaughter more prey.
Suddenly they scatter! Seeking trees and Town:
trying to flee the swift 'Warbirds' screaming down.

Tigers are now prey to the one thing they fear:
hunting 'Hawks' pumping cannon through tank roof and rear.
Vengeance is swift, then the 'vultures' swirl away.
Few Tank crew crawl home, dripping blood all the way.

For today it is over, the savage battle with no name.
But tomorrow more victims will play out the same deadly game.
~~~~~
[ poem by Lily Von Blitz - c.2008.

A serious poetic view of the savage power and grim bleakness of battle in WW2.]
--
TO ALL READERS: if you liked this poem then please let me know?
Positive feedback may encourage and inspire me to write more.

This post has been edited by Lily Von Blitz: December 02, 2008 - 07:34 AM

[Wustenfuchs]

Hey, that was good!
(I don't know either)

[Tom Houlihan]

Well done!

[cyberia]

Not bad.

[Geek44]

To Pete Turnbull

Silent and calm
Stands a lonely palm
That looks
Like a shipwrecked mast;
For it marks the place
Where a flying ace
And his plane
Are at rest at last

The plane lies there
With its heart torn bare
But the palm will guard it well;
For though years may go
It remains to show
The place
Where Turnbull fell.

Written by an anonymous ground crewman in honour of Squadron Leader Peter Turnbull of 76 Squadron, RAAF, killed at Milne Bay, New Guinea 1943. His P-40 Kittyhawk shot down by a Zero.

This post has been edited by Geek44: December 02, 2008 - 08:02 AM

[Geek44]

Not strictly poetry but lyrics.



When The Tigers Broke Free - Pink Floyd

This one's for me mate McCoy.
Peace

[McCoy]

Ta mate! Yah beat me to the punch!

[Geek44]

Never fails to bring a tear to me eye this one.
Peace.

[Lily Von Blitz]

Wustenfuchs said:

Hey, that was good!
(I don't know either)

Hey, many thanks for your quick and nice reply.
i really appreciate any good feedback about my poems.
glad you liked it.
Cheers.
----
TO ALL posters: thanks for all your nice comments, and poems/lyrics so far.
we have got this thread off to a good start and it's on the roll.

I hope to see more of you post your favourite war poems in here, please?

And to any budding, or novice poets I say:
Go for it.
This is a good place to practice your poetry in front of a polite audience.
----

[Lily Von Blitz]

Geek44 said:

Not strictly poetry but lyrics.
When The Tigers Broke Free - Pink Floyd
This one's for me mate McCoy.
Peace

Yes. War-related song lyrics are fine in here [ i forgot to invite them in my intro post. now edited ]. thanks.
It's all poetry...

here are those lyrics...

-- When The Tigers Broke Free -- Pink Floyd

It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.

And kind old King George
Sent Mother a note
When he heard that father was gone.
It was, I recall,
In the form of a scroll,
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp to remember
His Majesty signed
With his own rubber stamp.

It was dark all around.
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my daddy from me.
----

[Geek44]

Thanks for the transcript LVB. It may not be known to all members that the song is the true story of what happened to Eric Fletcher Waters, the father of Roger Waters...the bass player of Pink Floyd.
Peace.

[Wustenfuchs]

Geek44 said:

Thanks for the transcript LVB. It may not be known to all members that the song is the true story of what happened to Eric Fletcher Waters, the father of Roger Waters...the bass player of Pink Floyd.
Peace.

Man, heart wrenching.

[gi-rene]

I don't know about anyone else... but do you guys see a time warp? The first 8 posts like... repeat themselves... very odd.

[Lily Von Blitz]

~~~
A Zulu Warrior at Rorke's Drift looked very odd?
A short spear versus a rifle, oh poor sod.
But they beat the British at IsandLwana
Taught a hard lesson to the 'white bwana'.
Worship Tactics and Surprise instead of Queen and God?
~~~
[ a short one by me ].

[Wicked]

Unfortunetly I`m not Boris Pasternak to translate you some Russian poetry of war, or may be the songs of such poets as Vladimir Vysotsky..

[Panzermacher]

Here's one by Al Stewart...yes it IS a song....

Roads to Moscow
Al Stewart

They crossed over the border the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
Waiting for orders we held in the wood - word from the front never came
By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away
Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and our knees
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the smoke on the breeze
All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolyensk and Viyasma soon fell
By autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel
Closer and closer to Moscow they come - riding the wind like a bell
General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill
Winter brought with her the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground while the sky filled with snow
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the snow on the breeze
In the footsteps of Napoleon the shadow figures stagger through the winter
Falling back before the gates of Moscow,
Standing in the wings like an avenger
And far away behind their lines the partisans are stirring in the forest
Coming unexpectedly upon their outposts, growing like a promise
You'll never know, you'll never know
Which way to turn, which way to look, you'll never see us
As we're stealing through the blackness of the night
You'll never know, you'll never hear us
And the evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming
The morning road leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming
Two broken Tigers on fire in the night flicker their souls to the wind
We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin
It's been almost four years that I've carried a gun
At home it'll almost be spring
The flames of the Tigers are lighting the road to Berlin
Ah, quickly we move through the ruins that bow to the ground
The old men and children they send out to face us, they can't slow us down
And all that I ever was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening now it's the end of the dream
I'm coming home, I'm coming home
Now you can taste it in the wind, the war is over
And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border
And now they ask me of the time
That I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
"They only held me for a day, a lucky break", I say;
They turn and listen closer
I'll never know, I'll never know
Why I was taken from the line and all the others
To board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia
And it's cold and damp in the transit camp, and the air is still and sullen
And the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming
And I wonder when I'll be home again and the morning answers
"Never"
And the evening sighs and the steely Russian skies go on forever

[Panzermacher]

And here is a couple of Nice lyrics (basically poems) by one of me Favorite bands!

Aces High
Steve Harris
There goes the siren that warns of the air raid
Then comes the sound of the guns sending flak
Out for the scramble we've got to get airborne
Got to get up for the coming attack.

Jump in the cockpit and start up the engines
Remove all the wheel blocks theres no time to waste
Gathering speed as we head down the runway
Gotta get airborne before its too late.

Running, scrambling, flying
Rolling, turning, diving, going in again
Run, live to fly, fly to live, do or die
Run, live to fly, fly to live. aces high.

Move in to fire at the mainstream of bombers
Let off a sharp burst and then turn away
Roll over, spin round and come in behind them
Move to their blindsides and firing again.

Bandits at 8 o'clock move in behind us
Ten me-109s out of the sun
Ascending and turning our spitfires to face them
Heading straight for them I press down my guns

Rolling, turning, diving
Rolling, turning, diving, going in again
Run, live to fly, fly to live, do or die
Run, live to fly, fly to live, aces high.

And a Tribute to the "Noble Six Hundred" (Charge of the Light Brigade)
The Trooper
Steve Harris
You take my life but I'll take yours too
You'll fire you musket but I'll run you through
So when your waiting for the next attack
You'd better stand there's no turning back

The bugle sounds as the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horse's breath
As I plunge into a certain death

The horse, he sweats with fear, we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns
And as we race towards the human wall
The screams of pain as my comrades fall

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won't live to fight another day

We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights
He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow
A burst of rounds take my horse below

And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body's numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan

[Wustenfuchs]

Masters Of War -Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

[RAF Liberators]

A variation on an old one I remember.

C-130 rolling down the strip,
Airborne soldier on a one way trip.
Mission top secret, destination unknown,
Don't even know if were coming home
Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door,
Jump right out and count to four.
If my main don't open wide,
I got a reserve by my side.
If that one should fail me too,
Look out ground, I'm a comin through.
If I die in the old drop zone,
Box me up and ship me home.
If I die on a Afghan hill,
Box me up or the Taliban will.
Pin my medals upon my chest,
Tell my mother I did my best

[RAF Liberators]

One of my favourites

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.