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soldiers (Remove filter)

Heaven's Gates

I know that the truth about war

Is limbs blown off and bodies burned,

Though someone working for the law

May bang his polished desk and say

That he will leave no stone unturned,

And generals will bleat and pray

That ‘certain’ lessons must be learned.

The soldier, gasping with relief,

Will weep in buckets for his mates

And dream, discreetly, in his grief,

Of planting ...

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A lonely soldier sits in silence
Amidst a hectic city crowd
His strength drained long ago
this man who once stood proud
he risked his life for his country
A land which once he loved

Conscripted to an unbearable war
Where he struggled long and hard
His once agile body now shattered
PTSD has left his mind scarred
more deserted than hes ever been
silent remains his internal screams


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Son Of My Father

Son Of My Father


What did you do in the war dad?

I fought against Fascists, son.


And were you frightened there dad?

Did you want to turn around and run?


Yes, I was frightened there son

So, don’t believe the lies that are spun


About the death and the glory of war, boy.

There is death, but of glory there’s none.


Thanks for all that you did dad


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anti fascistfathergood advicesoldierssonthankswar

Raising The Standards (With Banners Held High) [MUSIC VERSION]

Raising The Standards (With Banners Held High) [MUSIC VERSION]


You said that you wanted a land fit for heroes,

a place to call home that they’d show off with pride

but somewhere along the way you forgot

the reasons they fought and the reasons they died.


They thought they were fighting for honour and justice,

suppressing the tyrants and saving our land -

but returned ...

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with banners held highfestivalwakefieldanthemhomelessbroken promisessoldiersmining communitysocialist values



we fought against the japs

but they won in the end

we went inland

away from the coast


do you see the mountain there? 

we gotta climb that 

up we went


we found a crashed american plane

and the pilot 

we buried him by the wreck near a big tree 

we found his wallet with a calling card 

we were the last to see him for decades

his location became a ...

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one expedition found a key

from one of our iron rations

this was real evidence

it showed we were there

why would a fly boy eat our chow?

they ate in hotels served by waiters

those were army iron rations

eaten by us in the trenches

but food aside

we had one thing in common

we all hated the japs

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We Shall Remember

41 million casualties since the war began

John Condon among them, died like a man

He was only 18 when he met his demise

Ypres, Belgium he finally closed his eyes


We shall remember


He wasn’t the youngest to serve in this plight

In Serbia Momčilo Gavrić claimed that right

Promoted to corporal instead of being at school

At eight years old he was the armies fuel.



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war poetrysoldiersFirst world warremembrance

Far Away

Is the high worth the pain?

Or for the sunshine is the rain?

Stuck between this world and yours,

Both of my feet in different doors.

Quiet and desolate desert night,

My soul thirsts for your love's light

Restless and weary as I lay, Far away, Far away.

The whistling wind and blowing breeze,

The moon, it sets my mind at ease

The sun radiates through my soul,

Warming wh...

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poetrysoldierwardeploymentsoldiers in warsoldiers


Decaying corpses, unique stench
With cordite blowing, past our trench
I no longer hear the warning rattle
But smell and taste impending battle

In the distance sounds a Lewis Gun
Maybe aimed at some unlucky Hun
So far in front of our barbed wire
Amongst the brown serrated mire

The Corporal said this place was ‘Wipers’
Mud and blood and German Snipers
The Sergeant Major called it Ypres

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"Unload!.... safety catch, pouch, magazine off..

(From the range we smell the scoff)

"Clear, ease springs"

The Sergeant sings

Time to queue up at the trough


There's nothing quite like the old 'Range Stew'

Two rounds of bread with a nice hot brew

From the mess tin

I'm not jestin'

Made by chefs who have no clue


Soft boot shuffle with your mate

No place here...

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army dayscameraderiefoodsoldierstea

Dead Men's Boots

Dead Men’s Boots

tough as old leather
their souls worn down
eyes vacant of lace
collected by the door
the day they swapped
their pit-boots
for the Kings shilling
and donned their shiny
new military issue

there they stayed
gathering dust
and old potatoes
in their safe grasp
neatly lined
waiting for the return
of father and two sons
to the safety
of their hearth

day after da...

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bootsdead men's bootsrichpixsoldierstelegramWW1SITWB

-as yet untitled-


outside the window,

an ocean of poppies,

red like denial.


she watched them day-in-day-out,

from sunset to the first shards of sunlight

which crept through their stems

and reflected the underside of their petals.

from this she saw veins, a tiny network of

lines like join-up-the-dots,

a motorway map

thin like emotion.


dadd went to war ...

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poempoetrywarpoetworld war twoworld war 2childrenfamilysoldiers

The Reluctant Volunteer

My dad, no hero, didn't look

for punch-ups. When the call came

he signed for the pay corps. 

But the look on his face

sometimes got him into bother.


He couldn't quite stomach the drilling,

or hide what he thought

of the shouts, the how's your father, 

the moustache and tiny eyes,

the whole bloody rigmarole of the sergeant major. 


One night in ...

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