by David McDonald | May 13, 2011 | Poetry
When I bury my man tomorrow, how much of him will be here I know it was a bad explosion, they told me best not to see what was in there He is sealed inside his coffin, if only I could see him once more But its best they said now he is dead, the flag was replaced once...
by David McDonald | May 13, 2011 | Poetry
Don’t let my Rose hear of how I died, lying alone on this cold hill Tell her that I died surrounded by friends, quietly and peaceful and still Don’t tell her off the human horrors surrounding me where I lie Speak gently when you say to her I spoke her name and gently...
by Linden Allen | May 1, 2011 | Poetry
16 and old enough to hold a gun, Just 16; old enough to have some fun. only 16, but old enough to fight and to die. I signed on for life full of adventure; I didn’t bet on being left with the mental toture. They pushed and they shove’d, they shouted, they...
by Alex Roissetter | Apr 7, 2011 | Poetry
My last inspiration came from here, And I wrote it down as I shed a tear, Knowing that this may be my last, And throwing everything into the past. All the memories of what I’ve done, All the thoughts of joy and fun, Intermingled with the sadness and pain, Washed away...
by Nicholas Lutwyche | Mar 31, 2011 | Poetry
Decades later, there are days when it is forgotten, until some flickering image or incoherent sound commands an unwanted replay of the old news. Silent whispers in the dead of night recreate those moments when images of family flash past, preceding playback of combat...
