Army Poems - Poems about Army

Raggedy Army As morning bathes in spring sunshine A raggedy army stands in line. Unkempt and ragtag, oddly sized, Unarranged, disorganised. Red, a splash among the grey A new parade at dawn each day. Some heads drooping, some held high, A handful gazing at the sky. Fresh and bright to start the morning, Most won’t see a new day’s dawning. In summer’s heat, the same routine...

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Army BRAT’S Always ‘Wanna’ Fly High The tradition necessitates that as a child born unto military parents Called by the beloved acronym Born Raised and Trained (BRAT’S) Be always on the spotlight as they augment and compliment The guys in uniform ever shifting from one place to another Military BRAT’S never quite settle born and raised as sojourners Born of a...

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"After the March" Almost eight years, the flags have flown, A soldier's wife, yet so alone. Eight years of heartache, silent cries, Of wiping tears and telling lies Like "I'm okay," when I was breaking, Like "We’re fine," though barely making. Stress clung tight like second skin, While I held the outside in. Weight I carried on my soul, Filling both the mom and dad...

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No King’s! Day of defiance ...

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A time, that we celebrate two hundred fifty years A time, filled, with sweat, shed blood, and tears. A time, when many answered their country’s call. A time, when many, were required to give their all A time, when many were called to fight in foreign wars A time, for beach landings on some far away shores A time, that I see “an arouse my memory” parade A time, for...

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They dressed me in dust and called it a uniform, Handed me thunder stitched in steel, Told me the sky breaks different When you pull the trigger. I was nineteen, Still dreaming in my mother’s accent, Still soft in the places They'd soon carve into callous. War, they said, was order— A hymn of strategy and sweat, A chessboard with bones for bishops And pawns that...

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The silence here is not of peace— It hums like blood beneath the skin, A hollow hush that will not cease, A quiet carved from what has been. No birds, no breeze. Just broken ground, And boots that whisper through the dust. Even echoes fear this sound, Where dreams break and memories rust. I used to hear the laughter loud, My brother's voice, a...

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They said the sun would rise again, But not how red it burns at dawn— A bleeding orb above the hills, Where shadows march and boys are drawn. We kissed our mothers’ hands goodbye, The station rang with rust and steam. Our boots were new, our hearts unscarred, Still halfway clinging to a dream. The sergeant’s voice was gravel-rough, It ground the child from...

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********** ********** o n a i r l a n d a n d s...

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salvation army she wore purple because she liked it. hanging stiffly on the store rack, yellow goodwill tag with smudged blue ink, was it a three or five? she argued for three, willing to pay five, she did. her breasts had followed the alphabet from a to b to c to d and settled back on c after some of the air had escaped...

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They all wanted to be “Real men” So off into the cruel seas they go In a big scrap of metal.. Might as well be going to their coffins.. And so they did, i never saw them again.. And when i think of them, all i can see is the pain and...

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The army of god Marching on True of will faith made strong Slaughter those made unholy Watch them burn with sombre glory Look upon all we've done we slit the throats of heathen scum we slid the knife in, and watched it turn Rejoice! god's will has been observed We are the holy ones We are the army of the one Bow to the...

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"Poetry is thin, with dark eyes and a hollow face that echoes all the time without distinction. The distinction lies in her breasts that are full of beat under her vague dress that changes colours according to the statements. She never fails, grows old or dies but simply moves to the next place when it is...

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Okay I now understood what they meant by the school academy the uniform is a brotherhood of man, tis the gun is yet unknown but only for a little a thing, little a thing. How often in our town we often might have thought this is a kind...

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At the Spitfire factory love was found Not long before off to war I was bound To do my duty to God and all those Whose lives were dreadfully threatened by foes. I joined the army, though aptly afraid Meeting up with a brave band of comrades There I trained to become an engineer Fixing motors, an army gadgeteer. It was horrific...

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