Best Sargent Poems
"Road to Lovejoy - Piano for the Self Taught" (Part 2)
His name was
Flight Left-Tennant V.C.Burton,
or "Victor Charlie Bravo", when he
got pulled over by the cops, explaining
"a sherbert or two Lynette, but not on the rocks".
though he makes me spell it
off by heart
“Flight L.I.E.U.T.E.N.A.N.T”.
for spelling it right I get
Lamingtons and a hot Cuppa sugary Tea.
Royal Australian Airforce
(R.A.A.F.) - "R Double A, F"
his current stint,
“Mate! Airforce base with all the big Spitfires
and Jet Fighters, Amberley,"
then later after
"THE" "Event"
(quotation marks hushed reverent tone)...
he asks for posting up the Mountain
7 Stores Depot,
free reign of the "Mess"
where there he is the Commander's Adjutant,
his rank still Flight Left-Tennant...
I think they must be very messy there
and he cleans up all the mess.
"The Yanks say Loo-Tennant!”
he advised in his Sargent Major way -
his pride of course
were the medals
he wore from his Tour of Duty days...
First Regiment into Vietnam
Saigon based, Royal Australian Army
way back-in-the-day.
“We're HOME Nan”, he gently
carries me out of the car
up to bed
from the rented
Airforce Base home's
driveway.
It's no tin shed, it's a flaming Fibro Mansion.
“I’ll get your sisters next,
Cream Buns for Breakfast!
Tomorrow’s Sunday”.
It was Saturday night,
we’d been for a visit down
the mountain to North East
near the Ocean that day
to lay flowers on
HER grave.
“We’ll do Bribie Island another day.
I’ll read you bloody Loose Arabs 3",
this delivered so so not P.C.,
"the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner,
tomorrow night. I’ve had enough
of the Nicene Creed for one day!”.
Piano for the Self Taught? Well,
that’s a story for another
day, something that can’t be
bought.
Priceless in it’s own way.
This is a story of
Love,
“Unconditional” -
the Lovejoy-Burton Way.
...to be continued.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
1."RoadToLovejoy- (Piano for the Self Taught)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8dPPtMiwl4
Dick York was the first
then Dick Sargent finished it
both did Darrin well
Talked to my recruiter
Felt it was my duty sir
Raised my hand said yes I can
Be a great American
Sent me off to boot camp
Sargent treated me like crap
Never got to thank his Mom
The one who raised this hellish son
Made me a man sent me to war
Not knowing what I'm fighting for
Traveled to Afghanistan
To kill some guy named Taliban
Now I'm hunkered in a ditch
Missing Momma's fish and grits
Planes are flying over head
Pretty soon we'll all be dead
All it is that I can say
I'm to young and dumb to die this way
Then I got a good report
They have no need for me no more
Landing on the tarmac
Hello America it's me I'm back
Greeted by my two best friends
Nodding Bob and Stutter Jim
Even got my old job back
Who would have ever thought of that
Still in service to my country
Behind the counter at Burger King
All I have to say in close
Would you like some fries with those...
i'm a soldier fighting in a war death all around how can this be my sargent blood is all over me!oh god he is dead that makes me in charge of my squad!we are connered we are all going too die westart shooting them for america we all cry as the bullets fly!
I Remember -by Trevor McLeod
The soldiers gathered at the wreath I remember.
The coffin covered just beneath I remember.
The poppies at the corner store I remember.
The amputees the coins were for I remember.
The fighters flying through the sky I remember.
The trail of red to catch the eye I remember.
The bombers at the airport strip I remember.
The radar with the foreign blip I remember.
The sailors with the semaphore I remember.
The air raids to incoming horror I remember.
The sailors with the folded flags I remember.
The victims to their body bags I remember.
The granite tomb to seal them in I remember.
The sign outside to say we win I remember.
The cemeteries many stones I remember.
The flowers growing through their bones I remember.
The bugle player playing taps I remember.
The Sargent Major never claps I remember.
The crosses planted by their head I remember.
The helmets hanging off for dead I remember.
The Legion playing in the band I remember.
The drummer pausing for a stand I remember.
The legion drinking in the hall I remember.
The stories being shared by all I remember.
The rifles firing twenty-one I remember.
The bullets deafening to the gun I remember.
The widows left at home alone I remember.
The women of the bombs been blown I remember.
The cannon shot to send the ball I remember.
The powder black to scare us all I remember.
The poem we know as Flanders Field I remember.
The author killed within it's yield I remember.
The unknown soldier questioned who I remember.
The final words our thanks to you I remember.
As the suicide bomber detonates himself at a roadside check
I wait for my coffee machine's light to turn green and beep
Carnage unfolds after all bits of shrapnel finish their courses
I add my spoonful of local honey to suppress my allergies
One of homeopathic medicine's simplest of analogies
Gunnery Sargent Patton's mind lays out in the desert's hot sun
I watch the milk swirl as it is added in contrast to coffee black
Corpsman Green drags himself to the moans of Private Daily
I blow the steam away as it rises from my most favored mug
The warmth is as savored as the aroma, as my cold hands hug
Private Daily's leg was removed when the Humvee separated
I have woken up an hour late and will be reprimanded for it
Green's tourniquet above Daily's bloody nub does not hold
My boss is younger than I am and was hired by his cousin
Indignation's towards him have now exceed multiple dozen
Daily dies looking into the eyes of Green who gets sniped
I watch out the window as a light snow falls to the ground
Green's head hits sand and lands on a chunk of Patton's brain
Inclement weather is the beast of burden that haunts commuting
My Hummer H2 idles in traffic as it is perpetually polluting
~Two different legends - one stating that lovers who passed under The Bridge of Sighs to kiss at the moment the sun
set and the bells tolled would forever be in love, the other (instilled by Lord Byron) that the bridge received it's name
from the sighs of prisoners who passed under it for the last time on the way to their execution~
Perhaps The Bridge of Sighs becomes to each
a haven or the last to bid fare well
as happiness in channels seem to reach
the prisoner, the lover's hearts to quell
A last to Venice sunsets to elate
A last epitome to wishers well
the bells to toll, a kiss and then to wait
as lovers see forever in their eyes
the buildings seem to breathe and contemplate
with curiosity to passers by
as Sargent captured blue under the bridge
so to the prisoners do let a sigh
to know full well the weight of what they did
would leave lagoons and islands with a glimpse
to execute they glide the waters bid
and lose the soothe of sunsets in a wince
as lovers pass into forever more
the other holds the key to recompense
Perhaps the Bridge of Sighs is either or
to Venice skies a promise or a curse
as under pass sweet love or prisoner
reciting under breath this very verse
as mist and darkness break under the bridge
we wait to see which one emerges first.
A secular soldier's demise came from friendly fire.
Soon demons dragged him into another friendly fire.
A succubus said,” Please dream of freedom and sex,
But there is no option to leave the Hell complex.”
The Sargent felt the thermostat was set too high.
His thirsting throat rapidly became parched and dry.
Satan offered him a brew of ghost pepper juice.
Despite an urge to vomit he could not cut loose.
The Sargent asked to tour all the circles of Hell.
Satan laughed and said, “Dante had nothing to tell,
For all his fabulous prose he was never there.
And expect no Purgatory for respite care.”
Sarge said, “Dante the poet would not lie for sooth.”
Satan asked, with a pilot shark smile, “What is truth?”
“Why am I here?” the Sarge in acute anguish cried.
“For enlisting in eternity's losing side!”
Sirens sounded secretly securing source. Strait sacks swooshed scamps scaling sensitive sentries (simply spayed seals) surveying surrounding staked spy sotted sham semicircular slipshod shelter. Snappy, Snippy, Snoopy suited Skyhawks surprisingly swooped somnambulant senseless scriveners. Sargent Salemander slipped shiny shimmering shellacked Sheppards Shutterfly sidearms sized simulated small skyscraper slinky, soapy, spooky squarely summoned, sentenced, sacrificed see swarthy Samsonite satraps Section SpecialOps.
Sometime soon savior snuck stealthily stealing sinful schleppers. sundown syzygy saw serendipitous, surreptitious, surreptitious segue-way shuttled safely Scottish shoals. Stigmatization stayed steady. Supplication statements swatted. Sole survivor swiftly spun self shaming sesquipedalian soliloquy. Sea side serenade soon spewed solipsism saving Slim Shady.
Sayonara seminal surfer swirling scarily sans sinister serpentine silent space.
the phantom called a meeting, for he wished to unionize
the trucks had been delivering, unloading their supplies.
Bat man and his robin boy, busted threw the night
the shadow showed up early, to find the perfect light.
the ranger with his six gun, didn't come alone
tanto rode up with him, mounted on his roan.
Cisco came in swaying, to his mariachi band
poncho had his plate of beans and burrito in his hand.
when zero used the bathroom, that's when he left his mark
and the sargent rode in circles all about the park.
When spider man showed up, his shirt was all a mess
a pigeon on a window sill, had do-doed on his vest.
i tell you it was crazy, when they argued over dues
all they did was sit and eat and drink the phantoms booze.
when the meeting was adjourned, the phantom left the room
the heros followed close behind and left the place in ruins.
they should never organize, that should come as no surprise
one has but to realize, that's why they all wear a disguise.
the phantom lady
Sargent’s Madame X is not just a socialite,
she is rather the embodiment of French aristocracy.
Pale as moonlight,
poised, brimming with dignity;
her crown is an ode to the huntress.
And yet, her dark and dangerously low-cut dress,
the accentuated curves
sing of a sweet and suggestive mystery.
She is at once formidable and submissive,
the tempest and tranquility.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 24/08/17
Based on The Portrait of Madame X by John Singer Sargent.
http://images.metmuseum.org/CRDImages/ap/original/DT91.jpg
I'm feeling so up these days
I hope you're down with that
Things have seemed to turn out right
Since my girlfriend left me
She moved up North
When our relationship went South
I'm a grown man
But I'll miss her calling me baby
Her sweet mother was
A Drill Sargent in the Army
Her family always ordered
Breakfast at dinner time
Then one day my girl did eat
Ketchup on her hot dog
At that very moment
Was the beginning of the end for me
Who doesn't know Ketchup goes on a burger!
Mustard goes on a hot dog!
Am I right!? Uh? Well am I!
Oh I'm sorry...where was I?
Oh yea, one more thing...
Her father liked to smile upside down
I called it a frown
But he called it the way he felt about me...
The phantom called a meeting for He wished to unionize
the trucks had been delivering unloading the supplies.
Batman and His robin boy came bursting through the night
the shadow showed up early to find the perfect light.
The ranger with His six gun didn't come alone
Tanto rode upi with him mounted on his roan.
Cisco came in swaying to a mariachi band
poncho had his plate of beens and burito in his hand.
When Zero used the bathroom it's there he left his mark
and the sargent rode in circles all about the park.
When Spiderman showed up his shirt was all a mess
a pigepn on a window sill had do-doed on his vest.
I tell you it was crazy when they argued over dues
all they did was sit and eat and drink the phantoms booze.
When the meeting was ajourned the phantom left the room
the heros followed close behind and the place was left in ruins.
They should never try to organize that should come as no suprise
one has only but to realize
perhaps thats why the're all disguised
The soldiers gathered at the wreath I remember.
The coffin covered just beneath I remember.
The poppies at the corner store I remember.
The amputees the coins were for I remember.
The fighters flying through the sky I remember.
The trail of red to catch the eye I remember.
The bombers at the airport strip I remember.
The radar with the foreign blip I remember.
The sailors with the semaphore I remember.
The air raids to incoming horror I remember.
The sailors with the folded flags I remember.
The victims to their body bags I remember.
The granite tomb to seal them in I remember.
The sign outside to say we win I remember.
The cemeteries many stones I remember.
The flowers growing through their bones I remember.
The bugle player playing taps I remember.
The Sargent Major never claps I remember.
The crosses planted by their head I remember.
The helmets hanging off for dead I remember.
The Legion playing in the band I remember.
The drummer pausing for a stand I remember.
The legion drinking in the hall I remember.
The stories being shared by all I remember.
The rifles firing twenty-one I remember.
The bullets deafening to the gun I remember.
The widows left at home alone I remember.
The women of the bombs been blown I remember.
The cannon shot to send the ball I remember.
The powder black to scare us all I remember.
The poem we know as Flanders Field I remember.
The author killed within it's yield I remember.
The unknown soldier questioned who I remember.
The final words our thanks to you I remember.
A Mother, a nurturer, teacher, and wife
Peace keeper, housekeeper, chauffer and friend
She disciplined, listened, gave advice, praises, too
Encouraging her little ones to stand on their own
A multitasker, unselfishly, gave of her time
Seemingly, never wearied raising seven kids plus
A gentle spirit and a drill sargent as circumstance called
Her humor and wit made hardwork feel like the breeze
When death made its demands three times in her life
Taking first her son, then husband and daughter in tow
Through each incredible loss, her unshakened faith remained
Mama, Perfect woman of God, an example of endless love
~*~