Soldiers Poem

[Retlaw]

A Poem Worth Reading

He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the RSL,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife..
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'Tho 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 of 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,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
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?

The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small.

It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times
That our Bobs and Jims and Johnnys,
Went to battle, but we know,

It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a Soldier--
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who 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,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days..

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."*

*
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life,
wrote a blank check made payable to 'Australia', 'Britain' 'New Zealand', 'Canada' 'The United States', or any other God fearing country for an amount "up to and including my life".
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this WORLD who no longer understand it.

Retlaw.

[Gayle]

That is definitely a poem worth reading Retlaw.

It reminds me of both of my Granddad's who both fought in the 2nd World War. They both, fortunately, returned to their families and both of them pushed all the horrors that they had seen to the backs of their minds.

They never spoke of things they'd been through during their lives but when they were on their death beds and rambling somewhat, all the horrors started to come out and although they weren't always coherent tales they were clearly disturbing them at a time when they should have been most peaceful.

People should remember the individual soldiers who did so much for us all.

[Barrie Yates]

Lest we forget. Not forgetting either, the Civilian Sevices who are prepared to lay their lives on the line every day.
Thank you Retlaw.

[cashman]

Ta fer that Retlaw.

[DaveinGermany]

Sums it up really, it's as relevant now as it was in the past & indeed as it will be in the future, stand easy friend, stand easy.

[ossylass]

My uncle Joe was only 18 when he signed up for the Pals - what a waste of a life!

[garinda]

Thank you.

Like so many good (war) poems, they help you stop and think, and see things from a different prospective.

My grandad died aged 22 in Normandy, four months before my mum's actual birth, so she never knew him, and it was hard for my nan to talk about him to us, even all those years later.

My mum will occasionally say so and so is the same age your grandad would have be now, if he's survived, but with the passing of time, as illustrated in the poem, those men are becoming fewer and fewer, over the passage of time.

We must never forget the sacrifices that were made for us, by these brave men, and women, and their families.

We also mustn't forget the people who are risking, and giving, their lives in service for us today.

[heth]

thanks

[Retlaw]

Another Soldiers Poem.
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one-bedroom house, made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give,
And to see just who, in this home, did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures, of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured, an Australian Soldier.

Was this the hero, of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realised the families, that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers, who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grown ups would celebrate, a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder, how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.

The very thought brought, a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees, and started to cry.

The soldier awakened, and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my god, my country, my corps."

The soldier rolled over, and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered, from the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of honour, so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure."

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.

"Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night."

I am told this was written by an Australian Army "Peace Keeper" a long
way from home and family.
Retlaw.

[Barrie Yates]

Beautiful, Thank you

[bullseyebarb]

A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life,
wrote a blank check made payable to 'Australia', 'Britain' 'New Zealand', 'Canada' 'The United States', or any other God fearing country for an amount "up to and including my life".
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this WORLD who no longer understand it.

Retlaw.[/quote]


Thank you for your devotion to this subject, Walter. Much appreciated.