Best Warmen Poems
16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland is on the run
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
Medals in a cupboard drawer
Testament of what went before
With his enemy held no score
Boy's turned men, played at war
In blooded field or muddy trench
Gaunt eye's stared from stench
Bone and boot so weary tread
At cannons call prayers are said
From shell holes came human cries
Voices lost in shrapneled skies
Shellshocked victims tied to post
Frontline justice feared the most
Boy's to men , men to ghosts
Not the story that glory boasts
Given the orders did blindly follow
To end all wars a promise hollow
And into the drawer another set
A different time, the same regret
The cost of war just wont relent
The family grieve and loss lament
Son loses father then loses son
How many times since time begun
Still soldiers, sailors children play
From toys to guns a price will pay
All is serene tonight along the banks of Antietam Creek.
'Neath the brooding moon, the battlefield looks so bleak.
Bloodied ground was hallowed on this dire September day.
On the field this night, six thousand slain heroes lay.
Six thousand valiant men stared heavenward with lifeless eyes.
Wounded brothers lay among them, emitting plaintive cries.
All about them was strewn the ravaged debris of battle,
Torn asunder by the cannons' roar and the muskets' rattle.
Strewn upon the field of strife were mementos now forlorn.
Thither and yon, Bibles lay, their pages scorched and torn.
Blowing in the breeze were photographs of those left to grieve.
Unfinished letters wafted about that families will ne'er receive.
Johnny Reb in tattered gray lay nigh Billy Yank in dusty blue.
Their mingled blood flowed as one, the sacred soil to embue.
It can ne'er be said that these men had sacrificed in vain.
Each believed in the cause for which he was cruelly slain.
Alas, other battles would rage 'til the war would cease,
When brotherhood would reign again, bringing blessed peace.
Soldiers lie awaiting Gabriel's clarion call, their duty done.
The sweet sounds of nature returned to replace the roaring gun.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
The Flag of the British Merchant Navy
The Battle of the Atlantic
We’ve heard of the famous Mighty Hood that was sunk by a Bismarck shell
We know how many men were lost and the Skippers name as well
We’ve seen the Battleship Barham rolling on her side
before the huge explosion in which so many died
The Repulse and Prince of Wales on rout to the Singapore post
Both lost to the Jap torpedo planes off the Malaya coast
There’s a film about the Kelly sunk in the battle of Crete
And of the famous River Plate where we inflicted defeat
Yet who knows the names of the merchant ships sunk almost every day
Who knew that as these ships went down seamen were put off pay
Shipping Companies all did this to cut down on the cost
They lost one of their freighters, but how many lives were lost
What of the men on the Arctic run ferrying Russian supplies
The ocean full of U-boats and Bombers filling the skies
Sailing a gas filled Tanker some only in their teens
Wondering if they’ll freeze to death or be blown to smithereens
Wallowing along in a rusting tramp to save the Russian Nation
Struggling to make eight knots whilst trying to keep station
Should a seaman stay topside or should he seek his bunk
Knowing if you fall astern your certain to be sunk
Many a merchant ship now lies under the Barents Sea
Lost in a desperate struggle to set the Russians free
The ocean bed is littered with merchant seaman’s bones
Now to lay forever at peace with Davie Jones
As a Nation we are rightly proud of our Navy in World War Two
Likewise of the R.A.F and what we owe to the few
To the men who fought at Arhnem and Monty’s Desert Rats
To those who fought the Japanese to all we raise our hats
From the Home Guard to the S.O.E in it from the start
All of our Armed Services were keen to play their part
Each had lost so many when they counted the final muster
But the greatest loss was those who sailed under the Old Red Duster
There have been times in our land
When our nation has had to take a stand.
It first began at Bunker's Hill
Where so many men were then killed.
All through that war with the British King
Men here in America were fighting and dying.
They were the first "Veterans" of the US,
When duty calls, there was always a surplus.
Always men of courage it takes it seems
Like those with Jackson at New Orleans.
There were "Veterans" who fought both South and North
When the country was split, her sons poured forth.
Healing those wounds would take some time
But in the end it came in line.
Of course no one remembers the row with Spain
Where America sent her men once again.
The "War to End All Wars" was more than a saying
As loved ones and sweethearts were left home praying.
Oh, Chateau Thierry, the Argonne, Belleau Wood and more
Are now in our history as battles of that war.
Then came the biggest war of all
When the world went crazy in '39's Fall.
Our "Veterans" were there too,
In Africa, Europe, and the Katmandu.
From Casablanca and Casserein on Africa's shore,
To Sicily, Anzio, Normandy, and the Bastogne's of that war.
The Pacific saw its share of death and hell
From the first bombs at Pearl Harbor to Gaudalcanal.
Many "Veterans" died at Iwo Jima, Saipan, Okinawa too,
They shed their blood for me and you.
After the end, we thought we might have some order,
Until the Communists in Korea crossed the border.
The Vietnam era was one of upheaval and race,
Some "Veterans" coming home even received a spit in the face.
For their part the "Veterans" were not to blame,
And for our country, it was a time of shame.
Dessert Storm and Dessert Shield put them in the MidEast
Where terror reigns with sate for a feast.
Yet, the soldier, sailor, or airman know,
If his country calls, he must go.
They follow the traditions of other "Veterans" you see,
They put their lives on the line for both you and me.
To the ones who have worn our country's uniform I say
"Thank You, Veteran", we should honor you with more than one day!
Most wars are fought by the military
with the starter pistol fired by politicians,
then soldiers are sent out to kill each other
to fulfill some political ambitions.
War is now considered big business
putting young men’s lives at stake,
while counties sell each other lethal weapons
to see how much profit they can make.
Without the uniform this would be murder
but in war you never count the cost,
only when you visit the cemetery
do you really know how many men were lost.
War never has any winners
just brave men trying to survive,
with their wives and loved ones at home
hoping they will come back alive.
Written in 1981 after attending a Viet Nam veterans welcome home parade.
They march in step without a cadence call
and wear old uniforms, if they still fit,
recalling days when they were standing tall.
Five services, they represent them all;
a few in rolling chairs, required to sit.
They march in step without a cadence call.
On their parade a somber rain did fall,
but these were warriors not inclined to quit;
while some men heard the drummer not at all.
The flagless streets and silence they recall;
now greeted with a smile instead of spit.
They march in step without a cadence call.
On skeptic ears polite applause did fall,
for causes lost, but not their part in it;
while some men heard the drummer not at all.
The tears for those who died will ever fall
belatedly, a candle now was lit.
While some men hear the drummer not at all,
they march in step without a cadence call.
"I want my Mommy.I want my Mommy",
I heard the young man cry.
That's how I made my living.
Watching young men die.
The boy had taken a bullet,
Right around mid-thigh.
It cut through his femoral artery.
Soon he'd bleed out dry.
I took my index finger.
I stuck it in the hole.
I tried to make a tourniquet,
But I couldn't find a pole.
I could feel his lifeblood pulsing.
I just couldn't make it stop.
As the bullets flew around my head,
I could hear the pop,pop,pop.
My rifles butt exploded.
It had taken a direct hit.
I found that I was thanking God.
I'd found my tourniquet.
I prepared the lad for transport,
To take him back to base.
When I turned around he was dead.
He'd taken three rounds in the face.
He was gone, so I moved on,
Amidst the constant cry.
That's how I made my living,
Watching young men die.
Pounding seas, wind tossed spray
Cold North wind, blowing night and day
The ice gripping men in disarray
The convoy ploughing onward
The merchant vessels, shadows in mist,
Weave and wind, wend and twist
Then disappear when torpedo kissed
The convoy ploughing onward
The small corvette, the guiding hand
The leader of the straggling band
But cannot make a fighting stand
The convoy ploughing onward
The men washed into icy seas
The eyes that bulge, the limbs that freeze
The ship brought down upon its knees
The convoy ploughing onward
The submarine torpedoes roar
Explosion, seas rush through open door
Ships and men on the ocean floor
The convoy ploughing onward
Few are left when journey's done
Supplies got through, the race is run
So many lost, so who has won?
The convoy ploughing onward
I saw those men in solemn chain trooping from the line
hand on shoulder, link to link their bandaged eyes gas blind.
The image burned upon my soul, and tied me to their chain
A scene imbued with haunting light, my retina retains.
The pock marked fields of battered earth with human debris clad,
the lifeless shell shocked look of men, stare neither sane nor mad.
The sepia tinted photographs of horrors captured mime
Burst like exploding shrapnel in the crater of my mind
The pages turn and blur the eyes of we who gaze aghast
and rational defies the sombre images that pass
The jaundiced eye of victory, a truth tells through the lens
but monochromes in battered frames declare true fate of men
These albums of the ghosts of war demand a heavy toll
with nightmares of the conscience that stain the very soul
Untidy groups of forfeit men awaiting fates last chance
accuse from yellowed paper in their posed heroic stance
Gaunt and lost they blindly stare with sad and frightened gaze
their memory like photographs are fading with the glaze
Creased and tear stained photo cards, memorabilia of a war
Evidence and remonstrance like poppies bloody flower.
The Tiger General
Hobbes
The Tiger general strode onto the field of battle,
Tail flowing eloquently as he walked.
And then he turned to his men and began to speak,
They fell instantly silent as he talked.
The general led his men with a strong presence and iron resolve,
They fell into line at a quick command.
When they marched he always took the head,
And lead his men across the fields of sand.
His men followed him with love, respect and admiration.
His feats were the stuff that make up great tales.
Each fur who followed him took every order to a tee.
And when it comes to plans he never fails.
The tiger knew this battle was different then the last,
He felt the tides turn on the winds of change.
He knew that something horrible was about to happen.
He didn't know about the scope or range.
It was in the thick of the combat that he found it out,
and his face changed to one of hidden pain.
But he never showed his men a shred of doubt,
And each passing feeling he would detain.
He started loosing men at an alarming rate,
And he drew his blade and rallied the boys.
But the enemy had an advantage so large,
It made the master steel look like toys.
The guns were blaring left and right as the tiger stood his ground,
Never surrender he yelled to his men.
And nobody saw that he had shed a few tears
For brothers he would never see again.
The general never backed down and stood his ground,
He screamed that he would fight ''til his last breath.
And he fought with burning desire and passion,
He brought many a Soldier to their death.
And when it came time the tiger knew a showdown would occur,
As the two leader met amidst the fight.
The wolf opposite him unsheathed his own katana,
A true battle that would be quite a sight.
Each great leader was gifted with amazing skill,
They fought each other with tremendous guile.
And the further they got the more the tiger thought,
Soon enough the wolf will show his true style.
The battle went back and forth in a clash of sparks,
And then the wolf took out the tigers feet.
The cheater finally showed his true stripes and colours,
And brought the tiger general to defeat.
The tiger general's men rallied on to win the battle,
And even through death he drove them forward.
His men will always remember him as a friend and a brother,
And a man who truly lived by the sword.
Men of our time warriors of war
Boys to men of another time
The battle of within to survie
The cross that is layed as our friend lays dead
A world that is angry with all
No peace to run and hide inside
Minds of others words of trouble
Innocents burned as they take a gun to there hand
To take a life to fight for differences
The gift of breath to be stolen so young
Mens boots on the child of youth
Its laces so binding to death
As a mother cries as she sees her son march away
Will she ever see him another day as she prays
His country needs him thats what they say
Day goes by and the months slip away
His maturity grows as the strongest wave
The blood on his hands as he drops to the ground
He is everyones hero which is now found
He protects his mothers land and like his father did as a man
The crown that covers country to country
The fields the sun the rain the stars all are the same
The men are the sons from the womb
Each man starts from the child within who has no sin
They grow as men with the witness of pain
But rememeber each soldier is just the same
Kokoda Efogi 1942....
The Japanese turned tail and headed north on twenty eighth September forty two. ...
They'd struggled round on mountains fought stopped near Moresby by the few. ...
Eighteen hundred went to stop ten thousand in the jungle mountains high. ...
Fought and skirmished over land in a rainforest never dry. ..
Our fresh Brigade now drove them off and followed as they ran, ...
in places high we'd count the cost where our mates died every man. ...
Near Efogi in a clearing up among the mountains high, ..
stopped to wonder at the scene, dead men round a circle lie. ...
All around a circle green, bloated rotten stinking high, ...
Japanese were piled up everywhere, by the dozen just to die. ...
So many died why came the thought? What killed them though they tried? ...
There in a pit two brave men fought, two Bren gunners fought and died. ...
Sat back to back to watch the clearing, even bullet riddled, soldiered on. ...
Slowly died with each bullet searing, fought till their last bullet fired and gone. ...
Two marksmen stayed upon the trail, let the wounded, get away, ...
Japanese in thousands were a coming, o'er the mountains narrow way. ...
2 Bren machine gun bullet spenders, deadly accurate this I say, ...
all around the bullets humming, squealing Japanese were turned to clay. ...
Kokoda trail held till they died, slowed the Japanese a little way, ...
though surrounded no surrender, at the time had death to pay. ...
21st Brigade men fought and died, two lives given on the day, ...
like Horatious at the bridge, didn't falter there to stay...
September 1942 two men were discovered near Efogi in New Guinea... My father Don Johnson of the 2/25th Btn. saw these two brave men had died fighting the thousands of Japanese... Don Johnson...
The Bren machine gun .303 caliber was so accurate that 2 to three bullets did take the top
of the head off your opposition soldier, if he popped his head up.
When these brave men died we were being pressured by overwhelming odds,
Up to 13,000 available Japanese troops were encircling each of the 3 battalions total 2,500 soldiers sent to stop them.
Constantly surrounding them in the mountains, forcing retreats ...
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
Circus
The circus roof is strewn with stars.
Its sides are striped with white and red.
The acrobats swing on high bars,
And hang there till they're dead.
No children cheered the circus folks
Parading through the dusty town.
No laughter follows hollow jokes
From such a grotesque clown.
This masquerade we all mistrust,
For right before our weeping eyes,
We see the carnage in the dust,
The crimes clowns can't disguise.
With painted smiles he entertains,
Committed to his mad crusade.
The orange-coated men in chains
Know now they've been betrayed.
Forgotten in their costumes bright
Caged men are dying by the sea,
In silent shadows, out of sight
Beneath this grim marquee.
MAYBE IT WILL ALL CHANGE NOW
WITH THE NEW PRESIDENT.... I HOPE SO