Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Carla Nov 11
The time has come again,
Of commemoration,
To the men who fought,
At their final destination.

Years and years ago,
Let out, was a vast strife,
And among that war,
A man who lost his life.

Remembering those soldiers,
Lines and lines of men,
Who dreamt of protecting,
Since they were merely ten.

They fell while serving,
But their dreams were met,
And on this solemn day,
We say, “Lest We Forget.”
The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a minute of silence is shared among Australians all over the country for Remembrance Day. Two years ago, I wrote a poem about Remembrance Day for a competition and decided to write another this year.
The screaming echoes of hell
The echoes of screaming shells
The shattering of wailing echoes
The smattering of human shells.

For decency?
For peace?
For honour?
For humanity?

If? When we fail yet again; once more
Go us into the sea; leave flesh ridden shores
Let briny drink try wash tired hands clean
If there be sea enough to flush man’s grimy pores.

No more!
No more!
No more!
No more!

Or - send us back to the sea; amen
Let the war-weary Earth start over again
Give blood rusty soil time to drink afresh
Forget the blind cruelty; the indifference of men.

©pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – all right’s reserved
Man's blind indifference to his fellow man!
Issy Nov 2018
the last post
is the first ghost
to haunt the world wars
and the grandpa
that was yours
we sit in silence
for the distance
between the names
and all of the pains
that they once bore
so we can soar.
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.
- By Robert Laurence Binyon 1914
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honored among our dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Canadian pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
Nov. 11th is Remembrance Day in Canada and the Commonwealth. Same as the American Memorial Day.
Francie Lynch Nov 2017
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honored among our dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
Re-post for Remembrance Day, Nov. 11.
CK Baker Jan 2017
He filled his week bag
with quick picks
from the commissary
cover blades
and skull caps
canned goods
and half stated pearls
liquor bills
and bleeders
for the flight of weary

Into the ****** bunks
of the western front
past sivana
and nurture sage
past the pomp
and ceremony
out of robe
and into jumpers
and casings
and masks of gas

Light infantry
and yelling men
muscled
and scorned
fly boys high
in 3 wing flight
mounted gunners
filling the night
in hawkers and packards
and scabbard chape

Tarrant tabers
and camels
dodge the vicker gun
skeleton hands
grease the mill trap
carnage makers
mark the rhineland
(buried in bunkers
and pile bags
and earth pack)

Trench helmets
and metal backs
under machine fire
minefields burn
in muzzle and coil
deep in the shadows
and shrapnel
and spear
the razor wire
and dead cold
despair

Slouch hats
and burning rats
kerosene lamps
and droopers
the soldier stares down
the broken line
and limb
a ****** holds steady
(shelved at a distance)
on ripped pipe
and beam

It was an all in
end game
a grapple for the ages;
*** in the
fokker pursuit
over rolling hills
and fallen comrades
into the bishop bullet
(and sporadic cheer)
which sealed the deal
in an empty field
near the brae corbie road
Mygreatestescape Nov 2016
My great
grandfather
was
a tank
commander
in

WW2

he
was a silent
man

burdened
with death
and regret

he was an empty
man,
his face
twisted
as he
divulged
into
all types of
philosophy

He was
a disturbed man
that
could not
agree
on any
terms
or conditions
or any medals
adorned
to
please


He was
a graying
old

veteran

who said to
me
before
he died

"you had
to be there
to believe
what
man can
do to
man"

and
as
the heart
monitor

dropped

and stopped


he started
naming

crying

choking

out names


"Gilbert,

Sarah,

Steven,

Christopher,

Alazia,

Guram Singh,

Fredrick,

Angelina,

Cassian,
.
.
."

it was an endless
tirade of names
of

people

human beings
that
I had
no faces to

but still

the graying
man

with his
pinched lips

sobbed

out

"I'm sorry,

I'm sorry,

I deserved

it ,

I'm so

sorry
..."

My

Great-Grandfather
was
a haunted
man
with eyes
filled with
regret

he
said
there
are no

survivors

in war

Lest we forget

lest we forget.
It's by remembering history that we avoid repeating mistakes.
Francie Lynch Nov 2016
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
Repost for Canada's and the British Commonwealth's Remembrance Day.
Francie Lynch Nov 2015
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
I repost this anthem every year. Remembrance Day, Nov. 11th is recognized in all British Commonwealth countries, and France and Belgium.
Next page