Bugler Poems - Poems about Bugler

...I was only about four years old when I saw my mother crying Two soldiers at our front door said something about him dying When they left mom took me to one side and she said to me "Daddy's nev......

Continue reading...

...A mother’s grief I never wanted you to go to war it was your father’s idea said it would make you a man to be away from me cut the apron strings he said. You were my baby boy wrapped in a grown ma......

Continue reading...

...From the sound of the bugle in the rush of the wind The bodies are counted as grieving begins In the morrow replaying as blood spills again The enemy forward whose countenance grim The co......

Continue reading...

...The old soldier, rheumy eyed and cold Sits at attention in his wheelchair Bemedalled chest heaving gently Thinks of comrades not there. Now just bones in cemeteries Some not even identified a......

Continue reading...

...A sustained note sounded from across the river Carried on the wind, destined for my ear At first, I felt a shiver running down my spine I heard a note from a solitary bugler so clearly. Suddenly ......

Continue reading...

...Trumpet call And all down tools, People who don't live by the rules, Listen to these trumpets calls The caller is a hypnotiser, A cad and a womaniser, He is also a billionaire, Without any sav......

Continue reading...

...The trill under the morning star rings out a gusto and vivacious song. Oh! Sweet merle your irrepressible melody defies all that is logic, the chill piercing morning still only an infan......

Continue reading...

...The brazen wind flows through the naked trees, where multitudes of scrawny fingers attached to stout limbs conduct the aria. the trill of the dawn awakes the sedulity… a wee tad foisty Wi......

Continue reading...

...in violet dawn he screeches a world awake barnyard bugler struts the sun is coming and he's the first one to know blooms and butterflies red rooster so bold like desert cactus flowers and......

Continue reading...

...It's never been so hard, to play my friend the blues, It's never been so hard, to play my friend the blues, Though right beside him I did sit, I played out all the tunes. Every day he got much ......

Continue reading...

...The coffin is in the hearse, flag draped with pride The fallen one is silent, as he takes his last ride He is not the only one, many before have also gone Giving their life in battle, never to f......

Continue reading...

...The eminent breeze slips through the trees, multitudes of scrawny fingers guided by stout limbs, conducts the aria. the trill of daybreak whilst the morning star shines bright the moon on the ......

Continue reading...

...At dawn the bugle's piercin' call roused troopers for another wretched day, Of curryin' horses, shovelin' manure, drillin', guard duty and gatherin' hay! Another day of bellerin' sergeants and pomp......

Continue reading...

...I have never been in a war…PEACE…I’ve lived it…breathed it…taught it… but as much as I have hated war…I respect all those who fought it. I’ve lived long enough to know …we all see the world throu......

Continue reading...

...(December-January)) The brazen wind flows through the naked trees, where multitudes of scrawny fingers attached to stout limbs conduct the aria. the trill of the dawn awakes the sedulity a se......

Continue reading...