Hello Poetry
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#recruit
Hey guys some of you know us and were glad to welcome you to our HP , but for those of you that don't , We want to add you to our group So if you have Kik messenger, Add my Kik @ abpoet18 where I'll add you in a group chat, So join us :-)
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
♦♦ kik recruiting #1♦♦ (not a poem)
People are not nice, They can dishearten you, But don't be like mice. Let me tell you a story, My story of victory, It's after the accident. When I was in the ICU, Thought I won't be consequential, But I disappointed them. This young man is alive, An ex-SBI PO, now a DRAAO, Oh I worked hard for it. Did not I, oh life, I don't play the fife, You know, right? Now I talk to you, Yes, you, the dejected one, Now I ask you this: Being a survivor, If I can be successful, Why cannot you?
0
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 10:40 AM UTC
Inspiring You
'Twas a bitter, November morning, With wind, icy hale, and some snow. And one's fingers too cold to do buttons up. If you served at Carlisle, you would know. And I was recruit in the Army, We were formed up for morning parade. I thought my World had gone barmy As I listened to Sergeant’s tirade. He was going on about rifles, That working parts had to be clean. So that we would **** all the enemy. I thought he were just being mean. But then he asked for my weapon. Never call it a gun. It is cardinal sin in the Army, Even to say it in fun. Now, I know I had started to clean it. But pull-through had, sort of, got stuck. When corporal had told me to get outside room To pick up yesterday's muck. Before breakfast our mornings were bedlam, And I was always in trouble, For corporal kept bellowing orders to room, Wanting everything done at the double. So, pull-through remained in my rifle. 'T’were there when we fell in for drill. And when sergeant asked for to look at it I suddenly felt terribly ill. He took it and grasped it by muzzle and stock, There was no need to pull back the slide, For I had to leave all the working parts out 'Cos. there ‘weren't’ room with pull-through inside. When sergeant saw this, he just looked at me. Through me 't’were better it said. Then suddenly: 'Cheshire', he screamed, 'Who gave me you?' And: 'Why do I wish you were dead?' There was nowt I could say back to sergeant, Upset, as he was, standing there. Useless explaining my pull-through, And more than I ever would dare. I knew it was going to happen. There was nowt I could say in the snow. For as sergeant gave back my rifle, he snarled 'To the guard room, double, now go.' I was warned about joining Army, I was told that it would not be fun, But nobody told me the trouble I'd have With that pull-through stuck in my gun.
0
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 1:36 AM UTC
Cheshire On Parade
'Twas a bitter, November morning, With wind, icy hale, and some snow. And one's fingers too cold to do buttons up. If you served at Carlisle, you would know. And I was recruit in the Army, We were formed up for morning parade. I thought my World had gone barmy As I listened to Sergeant’s tirade. He was going on about rifles, That working parts had to be clean. So that we would **** all the enemy. I thought he were just being mean. But then he asked for my weapon. Never call it a gun. It is cardinal sin in the Army, Even to say it in fun. Now, I know I had started to clean it. But pull-through had, sort of, got stuck. When corporal had told me to get outside room To pick up yesterday's muck. Before breakfast our mornings were bedlam, And I was always in trouble, For corporal kept bellowing orders to room, Wanting everything done at the double. So, pull-through remained in my rifle. 'T’were there when we fell in for drill. And when sergeant asked for to look at it I suddenly felt terribly ill. He took it and grasped it by muzzle and stock, There was no need to pull back the slide, For I had to leave all the working parts out 'Cos. there ‘weren't’ room with pull-through inside. When sergeant saw this, he just looked at me. Through me 't’were better it said. Then suddenly: 'Cheshire', he screamed, 'Who gave me you?' And: 'Why do I wish you were dead?' There was nowt I could say back to sergeant, Upset, as he was, standing there. Useless explaining my pull-through, And more than I ever would dare. I knew it was going to happen. There was nowt I could say in the snow. For as sergeant gave back my rifle, he snarled 'To the guard room, double, now go.' I was warned about joining Army, I was told that it would not be fun, But nobody told me the trouble I'd have With that pull-through stuck in my gun.
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