by Len Payne | Apr 7, 2009 | Poetry
He is called a Common Soldier, he comes from many lands, He fights in steaming jungles, he dies in desert sands, He sweats upon the drill square, he fears the sergeants eye, He is the first to march away, among the first to die. He cares not for daunting odds, nor...
by Len Payne | Apr 7, 2009 | Poetry
Canopies of silk float from darkened sky, Dropping on to targets, where hidden dangers lie, The ground rushes up to meet you to halt your swift decent, As you prepare yourself for impact, breath held, and knees bent. All at once you’re on the ground, you execute a...
by Len Payne | Apr 6, 2009 | Poetry
Gathered in a training room, May of fifty-one, Attempting to grasp the workings of the light machine gun. The instructor looked exasperated at our lack of ken, As he sighed, and tried one more time, to impart the workings of the Bren. There are, he said, five main...
by Len Payne | Apr 6, 2009 | Poetry
Huddled in a shell hole, pressed into the mire, The battle weary rifleman escapes the enemy fire, The vicious hiss of bullets passing overhead, Sometimes followed by a cry and a comrade falling dead. The mud filled hole holds him fast, like a magic spell, Offering...
by Len Payne | Apr 6, 2009 | Poetry
The bugle calls us to attend What must be done before days end, In ranks we form in ordered stance, Until the bugle sounds advance. Gone now are jokes and carefree banter The bugle calls for us to canter, From the canter now the charge The flashing guns now looming...
