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Forces Reunited - Favourite poems
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james gordon green
"scooterman"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 741
Status: Offline
sombre  poem


   Sestina of Farewell
                       by John Clays:-

Just put your hand out,touch them,say goodbye
Such was their plight,they could not cry
When the whistle blew, over the top they went
They did not ask it was there they be sent
No,volunteeredto fight a just cause
An adventure yes,but not sent like lambs to die.

Sooner or later it will be your turn to die
prepare yourself,get ready,say goodbye
Having done your bit of valour,die for the cause
In daylight,or darkness call out in pain,moan,cry
Was it decreed it was the huor to be sent
On your way,next stage,come on time you went.

Fate had come,they all just went
Something for which you could die
It seems that bit was meant,heaven sent
Go on,get on with it,why should you cry
They were told it was a just cause.

But many were lost to the cause
Others tok time,days before they went
Their future was to lie wounded,dying,cry
 Left where they fall,not recover,die
For some it was longer before they sais their goodbye
Leave the wounded,carry on,medics will be sent.

Despite home views,"STUFF" continued to be sent
From this distance you may still say it was a just cause
Away from their loved ones having bid a long goodbye
Not excuse incompetence that required so many went
For all killed on the battlefield who had to die
It was those left behind, the ones who would also cry

Good man,you did not call out,moan,groan,
cry
They knew it was right over seas would be sent
Come on man,be brave,it is your time to die
Britain was proud you gave your lives for the cause
No messing,they were told to get there and they went
Stiff upper lip,never mind the pain,grimace goodbye.

Battles cause you to cry,they can be a lost cause
It is not a game,peopleget hurt,dies
    The end goodbye.


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07/07/2006 15:12:24
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james gordon green
"scooterman"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 741
Status: Offline
poem


   WHEE! We’re Golden Agers
   >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
We’ve grown quite old,you must agree
Our golden age has come to be
With handicaps that bothers me,
Like needing teeth for me to chew
But still love to nibble you.

My mirrors all have wrinkled glass
My image lost its muscled mass
Which wound up fat around my `ass
No longer handsome,that is true
That’s why I’m glad I still have you

I rise to pee three times each night
Need glasses now for my sight
My thinning hair is all snow white
I must work out and pray i do
Stay spry enough to pleasure

The passing years went by so fast
but i still sense those moments past,
that built a love destined to last.
Iknow you must treasure them too
and Iam still in love with you

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07/07/2006 15:24:01
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Ray McWilliams
Add Forum Tag





Membership Level: Full
Posts: 2874
Status: Offline
A bit of humour in this one!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I’M FINE THANK YOU.

There is nothing the matter with me.
I’m as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.

My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Arch supports I have for my feet
Or I wouldn’t be able to be on the street.

Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory is failing, my head’s in a spin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

The moral is this, as my tale I unfold,
That for you and me who are growing old,
It’s better to say "I’m fine" with a grin
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my "get up and go" just got up and went.
But I really don’t mind when I think with a grin
Of all the grand places my "get up" has been.

Old age is golden, I’ve heard it said;
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed
With my ears in the drawer my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep overtakes me, I say to myself,
"Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?"
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels over my head

When I was older my slippers were blue,
But I still could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old, my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.

I get up each morning and dust off my wits
And pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is still missing, I know I’m not dead
So I fix me some breakfast and go back to bed.


Author Unknown

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08/07/2006 15:41:21
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