Poetry Challenge # 02/12/2012

They lie not in that empty grave
Beneath the foreign sod.
They do not lie forgotten
In that cold, and desolate Land of Nod.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
The trumpets blast, and blare;
And wreaths are laid at the Cenotaph,
To show … that we still care.

But … there’s a greater love than Man’s
Who knows the price you paid.
He spared you the indignity,
And lifted you from that cold, cold grave.

He created a Great Celestial Shrine,
And the moment it was done …
With a gentle hand, placed the Valiant heart,
Of each dear Mother’s son.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
Under Dutch blue skies,
The gentle Breeze of Holland …
Kiss your grave … as they pass by.

Written by  Earl Doucette

I could not find anything about Earl Doucette apart from the fact that he was Canadian.

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This  is a beautiful poem. It speaks of God, whatever name  you give him/her, lifting all the dead soldiers from their cold or hot and bloodied graves all over the world and  in all times past and future and even present. He takes  them to Heaven ..whatever name you have for heaven. It is a comfort to us all, for the violent deaths and hurried burials that soldiers on the battle theatres  of war received. It troubles us all and so we have these poems to salve our consciences and please our tender souls .

We all have Remembrance Days but this is a way of saying they got a greater remembrance. I shall say no more you have all heard my feelings on War this past year.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 27/11/2012

In the darkness they saw a vision

We saw a vision  by Liam Mac Uistin

In the darkness of despair we saw a vision, We lit the light of hope, And it was not extinguished. In the desert of discouragement we saw a vision, We planted the tree of valour, and it blossomed.
In the winter of bondage we saw a vision, We melted the snow of lethargy, And the river of resurrection flowed from it.
We sent our vision swim like a swan on the river, The vision became a reality.  Winter became summer. Bondage became freedom, And this we left to you as your inheritance.
Oh generation of freedom remember us, The generation of the vision.

In Irish, the poem reads as follows:

An Aisling.

I ndorchacht an éadóchais rinneadh aisling dúinn. Lasamar solas an dóchais. Agus níor múchadh é.
I bhfásach an lagmhisnigh rinneadh aisling dúinn. Chuireamar crann na crógachta. Agus tháing bláth air.
I ngeimhreadh na daoirse rinneadh aisling dúinn. Mheileamar sneachta táimhe. Agus rith abhainn na hathbheochana as.
Chuireamar ár n-aisling ag snámh mar eala ar an abhainn. Rinneadh fírinne den aisling. Rinneadh samhradh den gheimhreadh. Rinneadh saoirse den daoirse. Agus d’fhágamar agaibhse mar oidhreacht í.
A ghlúnta na saoirse cuimhnígí orainne, glúnta na haislinge..

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The above poem is on a plaque and written on a wall in a garden of remembrance in Dublin . The garden is a poignant a quiet little oasis in the city centre.

The Garden commemorates freedom fighters from various uprisings, including:
– the 1798 rebellion of the Society of United Irishmen
– the 1803 rebellion of Robert Emmet
– the 1848 rebellion of Young Ireland
– the 1867 rising of the Fenian Brotherhood
– the 1916 Easter Rising of the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army
– the 1919-21 Irish War of Independence of the IRA.
The Garden was opened in 1966 by President Eamon de Valera on the fiftieth anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising, in which he had been a commander. Its focal point is a statue of the Children of Lir by Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection.

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The Author

Liam Mac Uistin

Liam Mac Uistin is a well-known author and playwright. His versions of ancient Irish stories and legends have been published in the Irish language.  He lives in Dublin with his family.

The Statue  in the drawing above is  of the Children of Lir

The Sculptor

Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection, added in 1971.

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The words speak for themselves so does the sculpture

I have put this piece of music because it is of the era that the poem speaks of. It is Irish History and part of a long war, as useless in my eyes as any of the wars I have displayed the poetry of, in this poetry challenge.  I do not support the IRA, or any side in any war.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 18/11/2012

I cannot explain again about the pointlessness of war. No one will listen to me. The Middle East, Syria, Israel, Gazza, Afghanistan, Iraq , no  to mention the civil wars on the African continent. If you will no listen to me let this returning soldier , one of the luckier ones. PLEASE. you can read more words from war here

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The Hollow Man I’ve made myself hollow again.
Life, love and phone contract paused… on hold.
Forgotten battles regain definition
As day-to-day worries tick-tock to sepia thoughts of old.

I’m thirsty for the forthcoming chapters;
New tales to trade for backslaps and beer;
Yarns rich with adventure (hinting at bravery)
Will mask my soul’s disgrace and despair,

As pallid ghosts of friends perch on bar stools
While their technicolour doppelgangers
Grin dustily from pictures on shelves.
For now, valiant thoughts of tragic grandeur

Allow my fears to be suppressed and sealed
Into three brown envelopes left with parade-ground precision on my desk.

Ed Poynter

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Ed Poynter was an Infantry Officer in the British Army. He served in The Rifles (and before that The Royal Green Jackets) and saw action in Iraq in 2007 with 4 Rifles (TELIC 10) and Afghanistan in 2009 with 2 Rifles (HERRICK 10). He left the army in April 2010 and is now working as an English teacher in Sussex.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 11/11/2012

google images

Today 11/11/12 Remembrance Day. Here is Laurence Binyon’s For the Fallen.

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 her 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 their 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.

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Laurence Binyon was born in Lancaster, England. His parents were Frederick Binyon, a Quaker minister, and Mary Dockray. Mary’s father, Robert Benson Dockray, was the main engineer of the London and Birmingham Railway. The family were Quakers.[2]

Binyon studied at St Paul’s School. There he read Classics (Honour Moderations) at Trinity College, Oxford, where he won the Newdigate Prize for poetry in 1891.

In 1904 he married historian Cicely Margaret Powell, and the couple had three daughters. During those years, Binyon belonged to a circle of artists, as a regular patron of the Wiener Cafe of London. His fellow intellectuals there were Sir William Rothenstein, Walter Sickert, Charles Ricketts, Lucien Pissarro, Ezra Pound, and Edmund Dulac.[2]

He died at Dunedin Nursing Home, Bath Road, Reading on 10 March 1943 after an operation. A funeral service was held at Trinity College Chapel, Oxford on the afternoon of 13 March 1943.

For more information read here

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 04/04/2012

High Flight 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor ever eagle flew-
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

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This poem was found in many of the Kriegies’ YMCA issued diaries.    Written by John G. Magee on September 3, 1941.  Magee was born in Shanghai, China, of missionary parents-an American father and an English mother, and spoke Chinese before English. He was educated at Rugby school in England and at Avon Old Farms School in Connecticut.  He won a Scholarship to Yale, but instead joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in late 1940, trained in Canada, and was sent to Britain. He flew in a Spitfire squadron and was killed on a routine training mission on December 11, 1941. The sonnet above was sent to his parents written on the back of a letter which said, “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.” He also wrote of his course ending soon and of his then going on operations, and added, “I think we are very lucky as we shall just be in time for the autumn blitzes (which are certain to come.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This poem is almost a prayer. It is as soft and light as it contents and as deep and heavy as it contents, too. Full of references to cutting the bonds of earth, soaring high on emotions like laughter, delirium, joy mirth. Dancing flying swooping and flying higher than birds. Reaching the edge of space. Then that last line , a line that says it all for me . Where never lark nor ever eagle flew-And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space,Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Such beauty written about such a deadly subject. Planes carrying bombs to flatten hillsides , villages, towns and cities……. Such a contradiction. Words of one who had not flown in war’s true theatre.  If you would like to learn more about John G Magee  read here

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Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Poetry Challenge #7 28/10/2012

I have googled Crystal Danielle Matthews but I cannot find any information on the her .

Remembrance Day

Remember all those people who fought for you and me
Remember all those people who set our country free.
Remember all those people who died in the wars,
Remember all those people who got cuts and sores.

We gather here on this day,
To thank these people and for them we pray.
We wear a poppy that is red
To show we care for those who are dead.

They fought all day, They fought all night,
They fought till dark, They fought till light.
They fought for me, They fought for you,
The people died, The war is through.

We wish these people didn’t die
But now in Flander’s (Frosimone) Field they lie.

By Crystal Danielle Matthews
November 11, 1995

This is a beautiful poem of remembrance, so simple but so to the point. It speaks for itself . So Crystal Danielle Matthews  wherever and whoever you are thank you.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

WHY

Hi I wrote this in November of last year. Today I am feeling tired and cold and if I am honest very low. This poem of mine came into my head so I revisited it. I keep thinking that I have moved on and that he has too but then another kick from the gods of fate comes resounding into the small of my back and I open my eyes and see nothing has changed nothing at all.

I have changed about two words, they probably make no difference to the poem but I needed to change them. A little tweakette. Oh! that we could do that with life. The keys at the end of the poem are very symbolic to me. I feel locked up, trapped in a cell. Yet to the world I present this smile, “I can do ” appearance. What a joke that is I feel hardly capable of standing today.

Okay that is enough,I have subjected you all to more than you need to know about my bleeding heart and life so lets wipe the blood from the page and hope for a cheeky chirpy next post…… yer right!! 😦

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WHY?

Just how do you do it time after time.Why do I let you do this to me, there is no reason or rhyme.  It makes no sense, why do you tear up this life of mine. Do you have no sense of occasion do you not even care, have you no feelings left for me, do you even need me there.

photo credits vanilla.wordpress.com

I think I must be stupid I think I must be mad to let you carry on the way you do, it is all so wrong, it just makes me feel so bad..

Why do you want to live two lives it surely it is not on. You are missing most weekends, sometimes weeks at a time and that is surely wrong. I have dodged the questions asked about you from family and friends I hate to lie for when that starts it never, never ends.

People take their sides they do not realize that they have, they make a choice which means  different rules  apply. The first time I was shown this my heart was turned to stone. I thought that I would die.

This really was a shock to me, I am a bit stupid  you see, the fact that life is like that was staring at me glaringly.

It has been so many years now but time has not made any of the pain recede. In fact time makes no difference  the pain just grows indeed. It has turned into acceptance which is a bitter seed.

Why have I taken this all for so long, why when I know it is all wrong. Family yes, appearances no,I lost all pride long ago . For my comfort maybe, I need help I need someone even if they  don’t want me.

WHEN WE LET GO WE ARE FREE

Poetry Challenge #7 21/10/2012

War huh! what is it good for absolutely nothing. Huh!

I’ve got a friend, he’s a pure-bred killing machine
He says he’s waited his whole damn life for this
I knew him well when he was seventeen
Now he’s a man he’ll be dead by Christmas

The eastern world, it is exploding
Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’
You’re old enough to kill, but not for votin’
You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’”

“In 1965 Vietnam seemed like just another foreign war
But it wasn’t
It was different in many ways, as so were those that did the fighting
In World War II the average age of the combat soldier was 26
In Vietnam he was 19”

“And the battle’s just begun
There’s many lost, but tell me who has won
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart”

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I’ve witnessed all your suffering
As the battle raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

Yes, how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky ?
Yes, how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry ?
Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died ?
The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Hello this week for my poetry challenge on war I have cobbled together a strange poem. This poem is made up of verses from lyrics to anti war songs. I think that they do make a strange sense. Below I have cited the the songs and owners of the words.

Edwin Star

NERINA PALLOT

Barry McGuire

Paul Hardcastle

U2 –

Dire Straits

 Bob Dylan

I have said all I can about war and so this week I shall not repeat myself . I shall just leave it to music of John Lennon and the voices of children to say it all for me.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Retaliation

I bared my soul today I cracked open my chest and offered you my bleeding heart. I crawled across broken class and laid myself bare to you and you just laughed…………

I begged, I pleaded, I appealed to your kinder side, you slapped my face called in your friends so I had nowhere to hide.

You put me on the rack of your contempt and dribbled acid like bile. To hurt me deeply you were hell bent.

You exposed everyone of my deepest darkest secrets all the thoughts I entrusted to you and you alone. You tied me down and stripped my skin down to the bone.

You exposed every nerve every muscle you ripped me limb from limb and tossed me to the wolves.

I am sorry I couldn’t stand it any more something cracked when you called me a filthy whore. All the things you had done all the names and games you called me in fun. I am finished now I am stronger than you I am ready to admit to and pay for what I have done.

Poetry Challenge #7 15/10/2012

google images

Oh! so many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox (November 5, 1850 – October 30, 1919) was an American author and poet. Her best-known work was Poems of Passion. Her most enduring work was ” Solitude“, which contains the lines: “Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone”. Her autobiography, The Worlds and I, was published in 1918, a year before her death.

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This is a short and very sad, sad poem. A sad indictment on the world, many creeds, many path , too much talk and bluster when all that is needed is love.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

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