Best Airmen Poems
On some bleak airfield on some Cambridge fen
(that awful winter – 'forty-seven, I think)
my mother, novice servicewoman then,
crossed parade-ground like a skating rink
to see the Christmas concert on the camp.
Inside, the nissen hut was black as ink
till airmen lit a feeble spirit lamp.
The snow was driving against one outer wall:
she calls to mind a smell of tents and damp
and stinging fingers, fresh from snowballs,
and gouts of steam, blown out in cloudy spurts
as people laughed. Then lights dimmed in the hall.
She now recalls a curious stab of hurt
to see the Italian janitor of the base
revealed onstage in P.O.W. shirt
when curtains opened. What had been a place
of uproar, now – faced by this threadbare clown –
had undergone some dreadful loss of face.
In dubbin make-up, N.A.A.F.I. dressing-gown,
as solemn as a high priest at the altar,
this patched-up Pagliacci, ear-flaps down,
sang ludicrously well. The keyboard faltered,
and stopped. The singer, weeping now, kept on,
quite heedless, as his clown's nose dripped tear-water.
There's something sacred in the humblest song
(with wretchedness wrought into lasting good
through alchemy of art) and, all along,
the watchers, to their horror, understood.
He sang so gorgeously of going home
because he knew full well he never would.
While Italian girls were looking at shoes,
And German women were reading the news,
And checking to find some good movie reruns,
The Russian women were grabbing their guns.
And while Germany was losing its gains,
Rosie the Riveter was turning out planes.
While Hitler was saying "You've got to be White",
The Tuskegee Airmen were conducting a flight
And when Germany said, We are going to win,
American bombers were bombing Berlin.
Occasionally I write war poems as part of history.
This one was inspired by the Netflix series on WW2.
Young men since ancient times have the battle borne,
Rushing to meet the foe at the sounding of the horn.
Though arrow and bomb will sorely add to their distress:
"I will say to the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress!"
Wielding burnished sword, bearing shield and with armor gird,
And though the tide of battle may at times be very blurred,
Through the din of strife the Lord will hear his urgent plea:
"For He shall give His angels charge over thee!"
Marching forward shoulder to shoulder, musket at port arms,
Silent prayers waft heavenward for protection from all harms.
Vacant ranks are filled as fallen heroes march to eternity:
"A thousand shall fall, but it shall not come nigh to thee!"
Above the earth airmen soar through the vast celestial dome.
Mariners sail in mighty armadas upon the billowing foam.
For humankind they uphold with honor all that is just:
"You are my protector - You are my God - In You I trust!"
The powerful message of the ageless Ninety-first Psalm,
Has helped brave men face battle with reassuring calm.
Valiant soldiers deserve the respect of a grateful nation:
"With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation!"
Based on Psalm 91
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
It's mine
We left the barracks in mid-March,
With snow still on the ground,
Drove two days across the border,
To participate in a multi-national event,
Commemorating the World War II atrocities,
The Japanese called Death Marches.
Our soldiers, sailors, and airmen,
Were marched relentlessly across the Philippines.
Bataan Death March,
Where only the strongest survived.
Today I march for them,
For fallen comrades,
Recognizing their sacrifices.
Freedom’s price so high, paid with our brothers lives.
Here I am, out of water, as I march through the deep sands;
Bataan Memorial Death March,
Where quitting is not my option,
As my brothers marched without choice.
Wounded warrior, I suffered through dehydration,
Through pain in joints already injured in service to my country.
Out of water, I did not worry, for I knew;
The human body’s capability to survive,
For days on end in relentless conditions,
I marched on, to the end…
16 Feb 2015
© 2015 CM Davidson Pickett
God forbid i ever tell on my friends
God forbid I ever betray my country men
As aesthetic as the gas-mask
Dressed for work, dressed for success
As alien embryos thrive inside glass tubes
101 psychological tactics classified welcome to that classroom
The instructor he's fantastic as unstable as a bait cast
Watch for the hook watch for the backlash
The words clandestine written across the chalkboard
He say's Underline the the two words Cherry Terror, The Masters
A hand raises and he looks right past him
As he has flashbacks of the cold war the whole classroom
Ask him in unity why did they outlaw Shock and Awe
He draws a diagram of the food chain and says life is a cycle
HE ASK THE QUESTION WHAT'S THE 5 BASIC NEEDS TO SUSTAIN HUMAN LIFE?
FOOD , WATER, SHELTER, CLOTHING
DON'T FORGET THE LOVE YOUR MOTHER FAILED TO SHOW YOU]
He hit the nailed on the head repercussions from cowardly acts
And now I wonder why my brother's still missing in action
They camouflage sexual harassment
But in this classroom they call it forced rape
Go back in time, Go back to the Air Forces
Tell me how an alien killed three Airmen
I guess they die the same way i kill em back with my bare-hands
I want to lead you to safety like Harriet Tubman,
While we are on our way,
I want to stop traffic like Garrett Morgan,
Before we get there,
I want to right all wrongs like Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall,
While we are here I want to ensure that our minds and spirits are in the
right place and then we will get our hearts pumping like Dr. Daniel Hale Williams,
So that we can run through fields of gold like Jesse and Wilma,
And dance to the beat of a thousand drums like Katherine
Dunham and Josephine Baker,
I want to be the first up to bat like Jackie and Hank,
I want to resound through your ears and your memory bank,
Like Mahalia, Marion and Billie,
I want to fight battles like Muhammad and Joe,
I want to take a stand so that others may sit in comfort,
Like Ida and Rosa,
I want to give of my time, life, heart, mind, body and soul so that future generations
won't have to sit in the dark and sit on the sidelines like
Martin and Malcolm,
I want to soar through the bluest of skies like the
courageous Tuskegee airmen and Dr. Mae Jemison,
I want to be the first beauty you recognize like Vanessa Williams,
I want to undermine and backhand stereotypes like Althea, Venus
and Serena Williams,
I want to paint broad presidential brush strokes of the
the First Lady and her beau with hues of justice like Simmie
I want to act like kings and queens like Harry,
Sidney, Lena and Cicely,
I want to live on through the pages of your memory,
Like Maya, Zora, Lorraine, Langston and James,
can't you see?
I remember the night
some time ago
that we were happy
my brother was coming home
I remember that he said
that he'll be back some day
well that day has came
and I can no longer wait.
but I had to wait
he didn't show
only the men
who were below
they said to me
in a way
that made a mess
swept away
my brother went away
and died
he was fighting for us
to save our lives
he was a soldier
like marines, airmen, and coast guards
that was it
the whole nine yards
but they are strong
and they always are
because they are men
with the purple heart
there gave there everything
there is never a fail
they stand strong
a strength we hale
hale our love and
hearts to all
to those who fly and those
who fall
Bears
coming
through…
graceful
giant bears
coming
through.
Twirling,
swirling…they
waltz: One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Laughing
bears
dancing
together,
right on
through.
Off they
go!!!!
06/14/15
Entry for Contest: Shall We Waltz?
Host: Kim Merryman
*in the Air Force we had a program for Airmen who were struggling to meet the physical fitness requirements, which we referred to in a sort of tongue-in-cheek manner as "The Dancing Bears" program.
Holding on to my Nan’s hand, we walked around the lake
The snow was deep all around and there were kids tying on skates
My Nan squeezed my hand and we set off to the little wooden café
Smoke was spiraling out of the stove pipe stack and to my surprise we went in
There was no money but my Nan told me she was buying me a treat
“You always miss out on the treats when everyone is around
Treats to them are sweets and you don’t like them and I understand that.”
The treat she had for me alone was a cup of hot milky Horlicks and a scone
A scone with no jam, and an unsugared drink. We watched the kids play
We sat watching the snow fall and she told me that ten American airmen had died there
Just where the children were playing, she had seen the crash happen
When life got her down a bit she would walk to the lake and buy a cup of tea
She had watched the oak trees that were planted as a memorial to the men grow
She knew that those men would have given anything to be where she was now
Short of money but with her granddaughter enjoying time together.
She smiled and squeezed my hand across the table.
My Nan taught me such a lot.
© 7/12/2012
Entry For ‘Fond Memories’ Contest sponsored By C Cornish
(Veterans Day 2009)
Side by side, they stood at attention,
facing the American flag,
former Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines.
Not one muscle twitched, nor eye blinked
as the 3rd Grader stepped to the microphone.
"Because of you, I am free," she said.
In a clear voice, she continued to express
her appreciation and gratitude,
for their service to their country,
their sacrifice for freedom.
Though his legs trembled like Jell-O
beneath the knife-edge crease of his uniform,
Grandpa's pride filled his throat
as the little blond resumed her seat.
She had recited the entire speech
from memory, and later received
a note from her school principal--
Awesome job today!--
which now decorates the front
of his refrigerator.
Sunderland N for Nuts 461 Squadron
Sunderland fought alone the Battle Of Biscay in.1943
Big old seaplane Sunderland, fought in the Battle Of Biscay
Had 4 engines, would she float, would German cannon make her pay?
Aussies put in belly guns, 2 old machine guns Vickers. fired only .303 bullets
Poms might laugh about this deed, the Germans didn't snicker
Only 8 of these Ju88s attacked, to shoot a Sunderland down
Aussies cut the crutch out of German might, with the Vickers caused a frown
Sunderland like a Swiss cheese, had so many holes left in it
5 ju88s went into the sea, 3 ran for home that minute
Germans said it wore heavy armour plate
And it fired a 37mil cannon?.....
Said bullets bounced off it mate?
Its death were still a planning
So she waddled back to the British coast
And landed on the beach at Cornwall
Aussies got sausages, tea and toast
Brave Sunderland then did fall
Don Johnson
Moral:Don't fight with the Aussies they might give you a touch up.
The fight by Sunderland N/461 against 8 JU88s on 2nd June1943.
One man died on the Sunderland Ted Miles a Lewis gunner,
most of the men were injured. All 8 ju88s were hit by the Aussies.
When a fighter/bomber ju88 started firing the Sunderland went into a
corkscrew move, to evade cannon shells each time,
during the twenty attacks made on it.
Sunderland had been a pre war 4 engined sea plane,
the current Jumbo Jet of its day. The bullet riddled old warhorse carried
them home to England.and broke up on the beach
http://www.australiansatwar.gov.au/stories/stories_war=W2_id=67.html
Friday 13th August in 1943 their luck ran out 6 more Ju88s attacked
Sunderland DV968 eight of the earlier surviving Airmen
from the deadly Nuts Flight disappeared
[email protected]
Yes there are
The teacher who cares
The fireman who dares
The police who simply just do
The nurse who won't tire for you
Yes there are
The vet who burns the night light
The doctor who makes it right
The carer who's word is more than alright
The volunteer who won't quit
The social worker who'll make sure
The friend who'll stand by you
Yes there are
The soldiers who'll protect
The sailors who'll defend
The airmen who will not quit
when they're in the thick of it
Yes there are
Good people in our lives
Good people with no disguise
Good people who we should all praise
To all the good people out there
I salute you because you really care.
(N.A.A.F.I. = universal store, found on
every British military base)
On some bleak airfield on some Cambridge fen
(that awful winter - 'forty-seven, I think)
my mother, novice servicewoman then,
crossed parade-ground like a skating rink
to see the Christmas concert on the camp.
Inside, the quonset hut was black as ink
till airmen lit a feeble spirit lamp.
The snow was driving against one outer wall:
she calls to mind a smell of tents and damp
and stinging fingers, fresh from thrown snowballs,
and gouts of steam, blown out in cloudy spurts
as people laughed. Then lights dimmed in the hall.
She now recalls a curious stab of hurt
to see the Italian janitor of the base
revealed onstage in P.O.W. shirt
when curtains opened. What had been a place
of uproar, now - faced by this threadbare clown -
had undergone some dreadful loss of face.
In dubbin make-up, N.A.A.F.I. dressing-gown,
as solemn as a high priest at the altar,
this patched-up Pagliacci, ear-flaps down,
sang ludicrously well. The keyboard faltered,
and stopped. The singer, weeping now, kept on,
quite heedless, as his clown's nose dripped tear-water.
There's something sacred in the humblest song
(with wretchedness wrought into lasting good
through alchemy of art) and, all along,
the watchers, to their horror, understood.
He sang so gorgeously of going home
because he knew full well he never would.
Brave men brought together
To fly the bombers
To hamper the power
Enlistment their will
To serve the free
All humble men
As history will see
Hearts shaking
On this white knuckle ride
Hero's them all
Side by side
Outbound flights
Planes lost
Their families and friends
Count the cost
Target reached
Heavy flak
How many of them
Will make it back
They turn for home
Chased by the Hun
Machine guns ripping
Flesh so young
Wounded they slump
Bullet ridden
Bloodied bodies
Sodden
The coast of England up ahead
Welcomes the live
And will remember the dead
Distant engines
The airfield hears
Crippled planes
Grow near and near
Families gather as they fly over
Did their loved ones
Pass the cliffs of Dover
Ambulance, tenders
Race to the scene
Pieces of man
Their life no longer a dream
Carried in care
Blanketed shroud
Dads and sons
Did their country proud
The airmen who walked out
Turned and looked to the sky
This mission by men
As they wonder why
Pain and suffering
For the right to be free
As the future has thanked
As we look back and see.
Dedicated to all who served, to allow us to write and read.
We can fire our words, but they will never make us bleed.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php