Long Platoon Poems
Long Platoon Poems. Below are the most popular long Platoon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Platoon poems by poem length and keyword.
Madness exuded like the
war cries of epic battles
and sagas' past,
the myth of man and
the passionate woman.
As the eruption
began to procure its
preparations, Prince Alarumdives,
a moment with the King,
solace, questioning divinity.
"My father, what troubles
plague us? The trumpets
do sound, do us not, impede
decision, for moment's wisdom,
pray we gather and bring
forth a judgement non-grievous."
"Alarumdives, Alarumdives. . .
why we struggle; and endure,
our precious privy, our passion,
our victorious role, a
maddening hysteria,
turmoil, envy? Malice?
These perilous endeavors
that this kingdom, rightly
now, yours and mine,
forevermore, must uphold,
boldly, righteously, justice
and its decree."
"Father, this constance,
unhappy we, if respect
is compromised, be it for
balance, ignorance I
plead, for precious love,
my Geinere. . . ."
"Alarumdives, your wisdom
exceeds you, a gentle
harmony passed. Be it
sincere, your declarations
to cherish, this unition
of marriage, not as
virtue, for loves' royal
to the commons, not.
Can'st be, your labors,
this battle staging as
war closely approaches,
a test, shall worthy
proven, joy then."
"My father, this Luciferus
impediment, a call to
arms, due parry peasant
royalty. A falling star,
my mercies upon, this
calling of crusade, of
scarlet tides of Eden's
embrace, goodness surely
redeemed. As graceful knight,
I embark, these ardors
of dire tragedies, kingdoms
indifferent, be it of ill-virtue,
of ill-decree? May the spirits
that beckon bring forth
victory."
"Alarumdives, much needful
preparation, call'st to
arms, for the galleys
of this kingdom bulging
with cannon. I am to
the balcon to esquire,
gather, hence I salute."
"The masterful sounding of
the ram's horn, a call
to bravery!"
The hills of high, there
did stand, a large
platoon, the flags of
Scotland, a summoning
to port Wales. Torches
afire, blazening with
the perils of passion
and vixen angelic.
Viewing from afar, a
messenger apart, battle
today, no question.
As both tides
prepared for climax,
the gallians, sure
mighty, though as
the Gods did pray,
only a taste, hints
of nothing more.
The horns did exude,
and battle, that
erupted, was as
the raging winds
of Tyr. . . .
Born in 1915 at Birkenhead by the Port River Inlet
A son of Port Adelaide as one of the best youd get
In the days before bridges he would row
Across the river to training and games hed go
He debuted for the Magpies in 1936 at Alberton
And was the best player in that game then
Winning the 1938 Magarey Medal as the best in the league
He was one who epitomises the best of the Creed
Then in 1939 he captain coached the Magpies
To the third premiership after the ones in 1936 and 1937 as Football wise
But war clouds were gathering and he heard the bugle call then
Enlisting in second 43 Battalion in June 1940 as a warrant officer second class his country to defend
Off to North Africa he sailed with his mates
To Libya and Tobruk battlefields his life risked to fate
Then on the 3 August 1941 who took command of the 10 platoon
At the siege of Tobruk to blow a barbed wire machine gun soon
He told his men that death was near
As the Germans poured on fire across the battlefield clear
And he would lay the last Bangalore explosive torpedo
The most dangerous one to place near the machine gun hed go
Only three of the seven survived in the heavy fire
With Quinns turn the next the danger so dire
And he was hit by shrapnel in the top of the thigh
Being hit in the head again the bullets flying by
On top of this a wounded mate called out
And he took him up on his back to the trench after the shout
The machine gun was silenced in the mission success
A Military Medal was awarded to Quinn as one of the best
When his wounds healed he was promoted to lieutenant
And to the Pacific War defending Australia he was sent
And in September 1943 in New Guinea he was injured severely
In his knee arm and face which could have cost his football dearly
But he made it through those broken years
Returning to Adelaide and more football cheers
To win a second Magarey Medal in 1945 an accolade
As captain coach of Port Adelaide
So we remember this brave man
Of the battlefield and Aussie Rules oval grand
Two Magarey Medals three premierships four best and fairest medals 15 times played for South Australia and All Australian player
With a Military Medal on the battlefield a brave ANZAC soldier.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Lil Wayne
Yung moola baby
J.R
I'm at War
Chorus
I'm at war
Fighting for the one that I love and the one that I truly need
I'm at war
Shawty I take a bullet for you girl
cause you mean the world to me
I'm at war
Sean Kingston
Me love you girl, you loving me
So don't fight together cause it was meant to be
Me feel like, I'm in the army
Cause to be with you, that's where my heart wanna be
It's like I'm about to die just to get with you
Feel like you're putting me through World War II
Got my soldier suit and my Timberland boots
Girl I'm down for whatever cause my love is true
So I tell her I'm at war with the love of my life
Sweat from my brows running down to my eyes
Everything you are's what I need in my life my life my life
Chorus
I'm at war
Fighting for the one that I love and the one that I truly need
I'm at war
Shawty I take a bullet for you girl
cause you mean the world to me
I'm at war
At war, at war, at war, at war, at war.
I'm at war
(repeat)
Lil Wayne
Salute to all the veterans
And girl your love's like a nuclear weapon
I'm a five star purple hearter purple sparker camouflage
Follow my every command and order
You can just call me Captain Carter
So let the missiles rain on your parade
Cause my love is a soldier
and my heart is a grenade, kabloom
I'll bomb any platoon, just call me World War II
Chorus
I'm at war
Fighting for the one that I love and the one that I truly need
I'm at war
Shawty I take a bullet for you girl
Cause you mean the world to me
I'm at war
Sean Kingston
Your mother said, don't talk to me
But it went through those ears girl, as I can see
So make me know whats your fantasies
Cause baby girl I think that stands to me
I'm on the front line and Im risking my life
I'll make a sacrifice just to have you by my side
You're the one I love, you're the one I trust
I'll hurt someone that come between us
So I tell her I'm at war with the love of my life
Sweat from my brows running down to my eyes
Everything you are is what I need in my life my life my life
Chorus
I'm at war
Fighting for the one that I love and the one that I truly need
I'm at war
Shawty I take a bullet for you girl
cause you mean the world to me
I'm at war
If you ever drive through our small Oregon Town
You won't help but notice the house that's run down
A man called Bill Disney lived there for ten years
When we learnt of his story it brought many tears.
He was covered in burn scars and walked with a limp
As kids we knew no better and called him the gimp
He rarely went out, sometimes stood at his front door
The only one that spoke to him was a girl at the store.
When folks in town died we'd always show respect
What happened at Bills service we didn't expect
Ten Vietnamese women stood by a general’s side
When the general told his story many of them cried.
"It happened in Vietnam in the year sixty five
These women standing here are lucky to be alive
An orphanage was on fire when Bills platoon arrived
Thanks to Bills heroic action everyone in it survived.
He rushed towards the entrance kicking down the door
And he kept going back in and bringing out more
Went back in one last time to check all was clear
So full of determination and he showed no fear.
The heat was so intense and the building ablaze
You could just see the outline through smoky haze
He finally came out and collapsed on the ground
With third degree burns that's what the medics found.
An honourable discharge and then he came here
And a medal of honour for the man with no fear
That rescue changed Bill he was never the same
People avoided him they should bow down in shame.
He was born in New York city but didn't go back
And settled down here to get his life back on track
He'd been missing for a week so the police called around
And got in touch with us when his medal they found ".
The general then added" Bill was one of the best"
And asked for volunteers to carry him to his rest
I looked around the church at all the hands in the air
Felt sad that when he needed help it just wasn't there.
Never judge a book by its cover my mother told me
I wish I had listened to her and helped Bill Disney
At his graveside seven soldiers fired shots in the air
A great shame it took his death for people to care.
Written 12 August 2019.
For bring a character to life poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
I remember my old grand dad
Always wore his Sunday best
We always called him "Poppy"
It was always pinned upon his chest
For as long as I remember
He always had that piece of red
Tattered, torn, but sturdy
In memory of the dead
Echoes in his mind of years
Images so real
I never asked him what he saw
His tears...they sealed the deal
A silver screen of vintage flicks
In his brain of days gone by
Of good times with the friends he had
Of the days he saw them die
"Poppy" sat out on the porch
With his beat up Meerschaum pipe
He kept it tight between his lips
I never once saw it alight
He'd stare out in the distance
Seeing things from back in time
He'd listen to the voices
He never quite heard mine
We lost him back in eighty three
When "Poppy" got the wire
He was the last of his platoon
They had just lost Cpl. Squire
Echoes in his mind of years
Images so real
I never asked him what he saw
His tears...they sealed the deal
A silver screen of vintage flicks
In his brain of days gone by
Of good times with the friends he had
Of the days he saw them die
"Poppy" went inside himself
Never spoke another word
He was back with his old friends
As free as a free bird
Each year he would get dressed up
"Poppy" would go out on parade
He never, ever left the house
The porch was the longest trip he made
On the eleventh of November
He'd would polish up his boots
And at precisely eleven hundred hours
He would stand there and salute
Two minutes more of silence
From a man who didn't speak
But his actions, they said volumes
They showed that "Poppy" was not weak
Echoes in his mind of years
Images so real
I never asked him what he saw
His tears...they sealed the deal
A silver screen of vintage flicks
In his brain of days gone by
Of good times with the friends he had
Of the days he saw them die
"Poppy" never left his prison
The one he created in his head
His world was just the front porch
And the life that he once led
I remember my old grand dad
With his poppy, beat by time
It would adorn his chest proudly
And I now wear it on mine.
ABANDONED
During a skirmish with enemy sources in a rice paddy in Vietnam, I was suddenly cut off from my platoon and receiving heavy firepower. I felt so utterly alone and deserted by my fellow soldiers. My instinct told me to seek the nearest cover available and return fire with hope that my platoon would circle back to rescue me from possible capture by the Viet Cong. My ammunition was running low which added to my feeling of being discarded like a broken toy might be tossed aside by a child. Thoughts ran rampant through my mind. Had my platoon forsaken me? Had they forgotten one of their own? Had they utterly vacated the mission out of fear for their own life? I felt as though they had simply dropped off the face of the earth. Suddenly, I heard the drone of a helicopter in the distance. As the sound became louder, I realized it was coming directly toward my position. It came in low over the rice paddy and opened fire. The enemy began to scatter in every direction to escape the menacing overhead attack, but none were able to do so. The chopper landed on a small knoll nearby and every man whom I thought had deserted me and left me to die poured out of that chopper like a bunch of ants out of an anthill. We hugged, hollered, high-fived and hopped around like kids on Christmas morning. We suffered no casualties in that particular skirmish and after the celebratory action subsided, we knelt in prayer to our Sovereign God and Creator for delivering us from the hands of the enemy. Additionally, we prayed for the families of the Viet Cong who died that day in a war of sheer hell that should never have lasted for so long and leave numerous American families without fathers and husbands. A senseless war that is still a blight on the most beloved country on earth. It is with gratefulness and by the grace of God that I survived and I now act as a counselor for men who are still dealing with combat fatigue with no possibility of ever being whole once again. WAR IS HELL!
16 June 2020 for the contest sponsored by Dear Heart
2 a.m. Another Mother's Day morning. Today I'm going to relate army life to some ladies in my life. This past Thursday my Infantry company conducted a training meeting. Weeks ago I had thought about using helicopters to transport the majority of the company out to gunnery instead of using buses, borrowing other vehicles or using solely sole power since our combat vehicles have to be transported because of money reasons. Keep in mind, the two star general mentioned leaders should implement all systems into our training a few months earlier. Kinda amazing we need to be told these things, but I was never a believer in training non-thinkers. Some of the specialists sitting in for platoon sergeants eyes enlarged with excitement, other members of the team thought, "yeah right," while others laughed as I had said it jokingly, even though I was as serious as, Yolanda Linn checking corners after her oldest got done scrubbing floors.
Anyways, the XO comes back the next day and says, "1sg, so I ran that idea by the Battalion XO, and he thought that was a great idea. It'll save money on buses because helicopter fuel is already budgeted and our Soldiers will enjoy it." What my company didn't know was that my reasoning went beyond the stupidity of taking buses to training. If you think my mom would allow me to ride a bus in Afghanistan, you are outside of your god-given mind!
Mother, thank you for discipline, for teaching me humility. For months on end, I watched you make ends. Thank you for making me think. I remember asking you questions and you would never tell me directly, you'd point to a dictionary. You were the first step in self discovery. I'm reminded of a Curtis Mayfield song "The Makings of You" when I think of you: a little bit of sugar... Undoubtedly, the infantry will thank me, but it will be in honor of the goddess who named me her first born baby. Love you from the depths of the ocean to the most distant star the human eye can see. Happy Mother's day too you, and too the woman who loves a deep reflecting man.
It was a hot June./ Late afternoon./ I stormed into that saloon / like a 30 men
platoon!/ The bartender says, "Gentlemen not in here." / I smiled and said, "Old man have
no fear."/
You wanna take this to the street?/ I can hear your racing heart beat./ How dare you
try to compete!/ Call me a poetic athlete./ I hold the title not you./ My verses are sicker
than swine flu!/ You probably never been in a fight in your life./ I'm that damn good - go
ask your wife!/ OOPS - did I mention something you didn't know?/ Someone ring the bell
it's a TKO!/ Someone call his mom./ This is going to be bloodier than Vietnam!/ What?! You
heard it through the grape vine?/ I'm a poetic fighter on the frontline!
You reap what you sow./ I slaughter any foe,/ and just in case you didn't know./ I'm
the great grandson of Edgar Allen Poe!/ So what cha think about that?/ I'll beat you with my
wiffle ball bat!/ I'm trained for combat./ Walking over poets like the bottom of a doormat!/
Someone turn down my pens thermostat!/ I think this paper is about to catch fire!/ My
words will wrap you in barbed wire!/ I will own your soul./ This pen is my pistol!/ N. C. is
where I'm from ./ My lyrics will set you ablaze like Napalm!/ Read the headline,/ I'm a
poetic soldier on the frontline!
Yes I will haunt the night./ I feel guite / comfortable on the frontline./ Call me Dr.
Frankenstein!/ A freak of nature, not of this world./ Don't talk smack/ Jack/ It's a fact I'll
take yo girl!/ A cassonova from birth./ I'm not of this earth./ I know you can't stand it./
But I was born on another planet!/ You hear my voice,/ and my weapon of choice,/ a razor
sharp scimitar!/ I can hear/ the fear/ I'm the fallen star!/ So as I drop the H-bomb/ I hop
back in my UFO./ You know where I'm from/ beyond the rainbow!/ At last you feel the teeth
of my canine!/ A poetic soldier on the frontline!!!
* This is just me venting, not written toward non of you guys...hehe
As the dark veil covered the sky,
I was left with no choice but to resign to fate.
The enemy was relentless in their pursuit—
My platoon scattered after the strike on Khartoum.
Only two bullets remain~
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
I was lucky to find an abandoned trench—
wide enough to let my eyes rest.
Too fatigued to resist sleep,
I hit the hay and slept like a log.
Then I heard voices nearby.
From that hole I laid in, I could see them clearly—
They were South Sudanese soldiers~
the enemy soldiers.
They chattered loudly, so I knew they shared
a fate not so different from mine...
Only that we were enemies—
oil and water don’t mix.
Thank God for the darkness and the trench,
I was hidden from their view.
At least four hours of night
would still conceal my identity—
or so I thought.
Then, about ten minutes later,
I saw a large black snake,
its scales gleaming even in that darkness,
crawling toward my hole—
from the opposite side of the enemy soldiers.
From the way it moved, I knew—
that hole was its home.
It was returning for a late-night nap.
I had no choice but to leap from the trench
and run toward the enemy soldiers.
I could feel the heavy clouds hanging over them
as they scattered in opposite directions.
I ran between their fear,
the sound of scales closing in behind me—
the snake sniffing at my heels.
I ran.
My lungs were like chains
tightening with each breath—
but still I ran,
my heels kicking the back of my head.
And I remembered:
I still had two bullets remaining—
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
My helmet burned like a furnace.
I jolted awake—still in the trench.
No snake.
No soldiers.
Just shadows.
The nightmare had ended,
but my chest still heaved
from that breathless, imaginary run.
I felt the gun still on my chest,
reached for the bullets—
they were still there.
And I remembered:
One is to kill another,
The other for myself.
"The Eagle has landed”
Apollo 11 lunar module named “Eagle”
prediction defied naysayers ain't no boon
dog gull announced successful landing
while voice of Ole Blue eyes did croon
in Sea of Tranquility on moon
sometime about high noon
halting advancing armies
from one after another platoon
set down pontoon
bridges across the river Kwai (dune
axe why, the spatial event
July 20, 1969 witnessed great withered
figureheads regaled American dignitaries
even many an centenarian old prune,
plus lovely bones as skeletal rune
none other than remains formerly
Robert Hutchings Goddard exhumed
subsequently astronaut Neil Armstrong
uttered "That's one small step for man,
one giant leap for mankind,"
though skeptics good n plenti
claimed hue moon phase
would never become crater!
Three astronauts gravitated,
celebrated accomplished fete
instrumental proffering accolades
glock o' spiel trumpeted didgeridoo
courtesy King of rock and Queen
arduous encapsulated endeavor
spurred ravenous appetite
they got the moon cheese
lunar than later nibbled moonpie
washed down with spot of tea.
Heroes welcome greeted
podcast linkedin crew
upon their successful
accomplished impossible mission
returned to umble Earth
bootlegged moonshine stowed
within light saddle
sore ring hearts skipped beat
felt over the moon,
nonetheless by George underwent
thoroughly good medical examination
afflicted with minor malady,
not deemed more serious
than cardiovascular lunar tick.
Fast forward Fifty Earth orbitz chock
full of journeys light years distant pock
marked little uninhabited rock
quite quaint outer limits mostly schlock
of twilight zone by Spock,
he of Starship Enterprise.
No hint what prospects doth lie ahead
for future generations, centuries after
present madding crowd long since dead
yes, the space travel science fiction
authors flesh out today
will arrive within blink, whereby
fantasy with reality will wed.