Beret shaped and brushed
Trousers pressed, bulled shoes,
Booted and suited for
Eighty years old news.
Victory in Europe
End of a long haul
Time to celebrate
And reflect on it all.
Not a full peace though,
For three months more
Fighting continued
In the Pacific War,
Finished by an event to
Separate future from past,
The devastation caused
By that first nuclear blast.
Eighty years later most
Of those Veterans gone
As the world in its way
Has managed to carry on.
Uncertain days now,
Imperialism raising its head
And in spite of all the effort
Fascism isn’t quite dead.
Beret shaped and brushed,
Blazer and trousers pressed
Well bulled shiny shoes
Medals displayed on chest,
Fully booted and suited
We’ll stand on parade
In hope for the future and
To honour sacrifices made.
The Guildhall clock chimes
Eleven times this special day,
A great silence descends as
The two minutes tick away.
On parade at the Cenotaph,
An old man among old men
(Where did the years go for
In my mind I’m young again):
Not in best battledress
Or even Regimental Blues
But I’m booted and suited
With not quite bulled shoes,
And the old drill moves come back
So i manage to get them right
But age won’t quite let me stand
To attention, back ramrod straight.
Mixed in with the younger ones we old
Men marched with swagger and pride
Through the applause of the crowds,
Who lined the streets on either side.
For each of us in our way
Have walked that special walk
And we all still today
Can talk that special talk.
With pride and emotion we accepted
From those crowds at the parade
On behalf of those long dead
Recognition of sacrifices made.
I shall not march again, this
Time I just needed to appear
To show my respect in this
One Hundredth Anniversary Year
A Soldier That’s Lost.
Green was the colour of all of my suits,
Razor starched creases and bulled mirror boots,
Focused and steadfast,
Her majesty’s best,
Ribbons and medals proud on my chest.
15 years and 7 tours to my name,
A considerable asset I truly became,
But since I discharged its been a bit rough,
I don’t like to admit it but I’m finding it tough,
I struggle at times to know what to do,
No ones around and so much is new,
I was the cocky one the life and the soul,
Now I feel life’s spiralling out of control.
My wife doesn’t know me - my kids can’t relate,
I’ve no one around me that I call a mate.
I’ve nowhere to go but a job that’s demeaning
I used to fight for my country,
I used to have meaning,
Now I get angry and can’t get a focus,
I could disappear now and no one would notice,
It’s not what I envisaged it’s not what I thought,
It’s certainly nothing like what I was taught,
I’m not a civilian,
I’m a soldier that’s lost,
From Her Majesty’s Army it feels like I’ve been tossed.
The bull is coming
What are you going to do?
Are you going to run or get out of the way?
I say not
Face it like a matador
Even guide it
How many times are you bulled?
Too many times
But who is counting?
Do you bull s or is a bull s?
I say neither
Unless you want to be a saint
Then don't do it
Now don't go do anything I say lol
Are you bullish?
No? Then you are bull s then
What is my dinner without the bull?
I can have bull steaks, bull frogs, bull dogs
Lol just kidding
If I eat those I'll be in high heaven
at the county jail
But I'll eat the bull steaks though
Yum yum
Are you a bulldozer?
Destroy everything in its wake?
Yeah you'll be a it
As you are not human
Are you bullied or are a bully?
Don't
Only God can be a bully
And even He - does not do that
If you are bullied, be a bull, will ya?
Where are your senses?
Why do some kids have to be so mean,bulling on others and love to be seen,walking around and trying to be rough,but deep down inside their not even tough,it will come a time and you will regreat the one that you bulled on could of been your best friend yet.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.