Long Reveille Poems
Long Reveille Poems. Below are the most popular long Reveille by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reveille poems by poem length and keyword.
Sergeant Major O'Malley, Seventh Cavalry, had served nigh on three decades.
He rose through the ranks havin' served in squads, companies and brigades.
Second lieutenants were nuisances and he treated them as if they didn't exist!
He took recalcitrant lads behind the barracks to administer discipline with his fist!
You'd better have your horse and tack lookin' keen for Saturday mornin' parades,
Or Sergeant Major O'Malley would sear the ozone with his thunderin' tirades!
He'd escort you to the stables to shovel manure if you ever mistreated a horse!
Sergeant Major O'Malley's colorful lingo left one with a feelin' of remorse!
He had absolutely no patience with the foibles of raw and bumblin' recruits.
Lord have mercy on the hapless lad who failed to shine his saber and his boots!
Should a trooper snooze in the saddle when escortin' the colonel's stage,
Sergeant Major O'Malley would stomp and rave unleashin' a towerin' rage!
At the break of dawn when reveille sounded, he'd burst through the barracks door,
Yellin' "Up and at 'em me lads! Outta them bunks! What am I a-payin' ye for!
Ye sorry excuses fer sojers! Hie to the stables! Them hosses needs oats and hay!
And when that's done, git back here to eat yer grub and scrub this filthy bay!"
Things were different when he dismounted his horse and entered his house!
The one who gave orders and 'wore the stripes' at home was his formidable spouse!
He meekly responded to her constant commands with a resigned, "Yes, my dear."
"Taps" was a welcome sound at close of day in Sergeant Major O'Malley's ear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A voice I’ve never heard before
spoke to me as I walked
past the copse of oaks yesterday.
I stopped. Listening
to the pleasant sound
in our back yard
announcing something sensational.
I could still see my breath
in the early morning sun,
making me feel good,
like getting to work on time
in those years before retirement.
And then I wondered
if the new song bird in the trees
stopped to rest
while traveling south for winter.
Or was the feathered creature
seeking its mate
or declaring new territory?
I looked into the branches
to admire this source of
reveille, but failed to find it.
Today I heard silence.
Maybe we’ll meet again
when we also travel south in a few weeks.
A cavalryman's day was guided by a series of bugle calls,
The dulcet tones reverberating within the palisade walls.
Wanting to hurl a boot at the bugler for "Reveille" at dawn,
Instead he stumbled from his cot at "Assemble" on the lawn.
Before he had breakfast, the horses must be tended to,
So "Stable Call" was sounded to assemble a working crew.
"Breakfast Call" invited him for coffee, bread and bacon.
"Sick Call" was announced ere daily tasks were undertaken.
"Fatigue Call" called for troops to "police" the parade ground trim,
Then, at "Guard Mount" assignments were made at old sarge's whim.
The dreaded "Drill Call" meant many weary hours in the saddle,
As sergeants berated recruits, trying to keep them astraddle!
At last, "Dinner Call" for a repast of pork bellies and beans,
Then "Water Call" to water the horses and fill empty canteens.
Later called to quarters to ready for "Assemble For Dress Parade,"
They paraded their steeds, in uniform with gleaming saber blade!"
"Supper Call" sounded meaning more pork bellies and beans.
After "Roll Call" they entertained themselves by any means.
After the sun slowly descended in the vast reaches of the west,
Plaintive "Taps" closed the day, bringing to them welcome rest!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Kiss by the Passing Breeze of Awakening
Dust of divine whimsy
Flutters softly on unconscious cheeks
With ephemeral dawning
Fleeting like the flash of silver sandals
In moonlight - here then hidden -
Stepping out of the opaque
Soul stirring from oblivious daydreams
Stepping into moments of classical
Lavender-rose moments.
The leaven of breezes in stardust essence
Flares in lambent clarity
Caches of chimera, that drain the heartbeat,
Shrivel in bursts of cheeky shooting stars.
Aroused from the depths of sleepwalking,
Grace notes float on rose scents
Harvested in potpourris for strangled screams
Scrambling through midnight fogs,
Sentience revisits in soft swirls
Awareness, roused by reveille,
Stirs caressed codas in soft preludes,
Awakes in fresh mindful raptures
Nurtured by a passing angel kiss.
I hear the clarion bugle calls at Fort Carson when conditions are just right,
Sounding "Reveille" at break of dawn to the mournful sound of "Taps" at night!
"Reveille" 'wakes soldiers from their well-deserved rest to begin another day
Of training to protect our freedoms, though they do it for very meager pay!
The bugle sounds "Chow Call" at noon for lunch, the most welcome of calls!
The dining facilities peal with laughter, Yankee twang and Texas drawls!
The bugle calls "Retreat" and the roar of cannon is heard to end the day.
Old Glory is slowly lowered, solemnly folded and tenderly stowed away.
The plaintive sound of "Taps" is played at ten PM echoing as clearly as a bell!
Its peaceful call heralds, "You've earned your rest, God is nigh and all is well!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Simple were my tastes as a Hoosier country boy.
I'd heard of the fancy grub enjoyed by the hoi polloi,
But what set my youthful taste buds aquiver instead,
Was a helpin' of Mom's home-baked ham and gravy bread!
How I hated gettin' out of bed on a frosty winter's dawn,
Tryin' to awake, strugglin' to put my red flannels on.
Ah! But the aroma from the kitchen meant I was to be fed,
A servin' of Mom's fried pertaters and gravy bread!
On the Hoosier farm there were mornin' chores to be done,
Milkin' cows and sloppin' hogs, neither of which was fun.
But just thinkin' about breakfast and the treat that lay ahead,
Knowin' Mom was fryin' eggs and fixin' gravy bread!
In the service when the bugler blew a rousin' reveille,
I knew that powered milk and eggs in the mess awaited me!
Oh! How I yearned for Mom's zesty blackberry spread,
And a heapin' plate of bacon and scrumptious gravy bread!
I've traveled o'er this globe and sampled fancy fare,
But I've yet to find anything that will ever compare,
To risin' from my slumber and seein' the board spread,
With good old country fare, especially that tasty gravy bread!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This morning I stumbled out of bed and stood at rigid attention!
(I thought I'd had a nightmare and had lost my military pension!)
A familiar strain wafted across the valley and swirled about my ears.
'Twas the "Reveille" bugle call, a sound I hadn't heard in years!
The sound came from nearby Fort Carson since the wind was just so.
(I recalled my warrior days rising at dawn to earn my meager dough!)
I pictured in my mind the bewilderment of the young and raw recruits,
Cussing the bugler, gathering up their gear and pulling on their boots!
At noon the bugle called, "Come and get your chow, boys! Come and get your chow!"
(My grub was slopped on a battered steel tray - troopers dine off china now!)
That's just the way it was - I'm happy for them tho' - they deserve the best!
For their devotion to duty and firm resolve, we are truly blessed!
At five o'clock, the bugler sounded "Retreat" to end another day.
The garrison flag was slowly lowered, folded and stowed away.
The cannon boomed - its thundering boom reverberated about the post.
Every soldier stood proud and tall and saluted the flag, totally engrossed!
The haunting notes of "Taps" sound at ten o'clock then fade away and die,
As sleeping soldiers are assured, "All is well, safely rest, God is nigh."
How I relish the dulcet bugle calls echoing from across the way;
I wouldn't object if the wind would blow my way each and every day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(©All Rights Reserved)
The bugler's piercing call sounds "Reveille" at the break of dawn.
Young horse soldiers rise, rub their eyes and stifle a gaping yawn.
The brawny Irish Sergeant bellows, "Up and at 'em lads!
You belong to me and the army now - forget your moms and dads!"
A wretched meal of bacon, beans and coffee awaits them in the mess.
Endless bugle calls throughout the day adds to their duress.
There are horses to curry and saddle and other chores ad infinitum.
All of this for a lousy one hundred and fifty-six bucks per annum!
Perilous patrols in the saddle in every sort of miserable condition:
Heat in the summer, freezing in the winter - a never-ending perdition!
Weary, saddle sore, ever heedful to the commands of their "sarge".
Ever alert to the bugler's clarion call, " To Horse! Charge!"
At the end of the month they collect their meager pay.
Most repairing to the local "hog ranch" just down the way,
To enjoy the delights of a "soiled dove", gamble, drink and fight,
Later to be confined in the guardhouse feeling mighty contrite!
These stalwart men ensured that Manifest Destiny was carried out,
Enduring untold hardships and protecting the treacherous route.
Many paid the ultimate price and lie in a desolate, lonely grave.
Soldiers who our horizons expanded and whose lives they freely gave.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
April showers its bliss
With oozing petals’ flame
As spring’s reveille plays
Waves its sunrise of joy
Carpeting our pathways.
Aprils showers its bliss
In fragrance’s delight
Flowers sway to and fro
Leaning on breeze’s arms
Trusting in perfect duo.
April showers its bliss
With glowing endless smiles
As critters fly and sing
In harmonious voices
For this month’s good tiding.
April showers its bliss
In rainbow-love’s cloudburst
Easter sits our heart’s nest
Filling lights, no darkness
For God blessed April’s best.
April 15, 2022 1:20pm
HAPPY EASTER TO ALL! GOD BLESS!
ALL APRIL in MONCHIELLE
Contest Judged: 4/30/2022 2:21:00 PM
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Place 4
so bring out the fanfare!
clash your monkey symbols
and i'll play the morning horn.
wake up! reveille! come out!
the crowd's hands are reaching, clawing;
sweltering sun drips onto their faces.
BRIGHT BRIGHT BRIGHT
let's go to the zoo!
what if we saw a bird in a cage?
what if we took a bird from it's cage?
what if i love the bird so much it won't stop shrieking?
all we want is FUN FUN FUN
sunburn love!
tilt-a-whirl love!
triple back flip love!
but when the sky begins to falter,
and the silver breeze begins her dance,
slip away from the clamour and the laughter,
and come find firefly love.
the next breath will arrive, so there's no need to hurry.
one day the crowd will tire of
their games, till then,
find peace in dewy eyes
who's gaze cannot be found, save
for in whispering fields,
dim light windows, and
the touch of creatures
tender and unknown,
to all
but i.