Poems/songs
 

Favorite War poems/songs

Post your favorite war poems or songs

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sL££p, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Metallica - For Whom the Bell Tolls rock:

The Bonnie Blue Flag
Harry Macarthy


We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil,
Fighting for our Liberty with treasure, blood and toil;
And when our rights were threaten'd, the cry rose
near and far,
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a
Single Star!
Chorus:
Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern Rights, Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a
Single Star!

First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand;
Then came Alabama who took her by the hand;
Next, quickly Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida,
All rais'd on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a
Single Star! (Chorus)

Ye men of valor, gather round the Banner of the Right,
Texas and Louisiana, join us in the fight;
Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, Statesman
rare,
Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag, That bears a
Single Star! (Chorus)

And here's to brave Virginia! The Old Dominion State,
With the young Confederacy at length has link'd her
fate
Impell'd by her example, now other States prepare
To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag,That bears a
Single Star! (Chorus)

O Captain! My Captain!

Soviet National Anthem. By The Red Russian Army Choir.

"This is my rifle this is my gun, this ones for fighting this ones for fun"

rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock: rock:

"You will give your rifle a girl's name because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary J. Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties are over"

------Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Private Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Private Joker: "Born to Kill," sir.
Pogue Colonel: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?
Private Joker: No, sir.
Pogue Colonel: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you!
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.
Private Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Pogue Colonel: The what?
Private Joker: The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?
Private Joker: Our side, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Then how about getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Private Joker: Yes, sir!
Pogue Colonel: Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.
Private Joker: Aye-aye, sir.

"

Here's a poem that i wrote for school. It was supposed to be in the Anglo-Saxon format.






"For What Costs?"


The disastrous details of destruction I describe.
Up from hell, down from heaven,
Friendships and fear are expelled by force.
Guns cock, engines start.
Both armies brace for the blows
Of the thunder creators. Bombs,
Whirling through the wind welcome
The whimpering woes of wounded soldiers.
Bullet flingers bellow out with bursts of fire.
Chaos covers the commands of the officers.
More bullets fire, more men die.
Boxes of metal, roaring they roll
Plowing the paths of broken peace.
Children cry, and men mourn
Over their loss of friends and family.
Red juices cover the earth.
The hatred-filled hands of the holders
Of death fall towards miserable hell.
Who will live? Who will die?
When will waging war end?

stfu plz

Army = Caissons

There is a good poem that was in a pocket of a Dead Marine at Khe-Sahn. I'll try and find it.

Dulce Et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
(It is sweet and meet to die for one's country)



And also the Soviet National anthem is really good as well.

Look out, Mama, there's a white boat comin' up the river
With a big red beacon and a flag and a man on the rail
I think you better call John 'cause it don't look like they're here to deliver the mail
And it's less than a mile away
I hope they didn't come to stay
It's got numbers on the side and a gun and it's makin' big waves
Daddy's gone and my brother's out huntin' in the mountains
Big John's been drinkin' since the river took Emmy Lou
So the Powers That Be left me here to do the thinkin'
And I just turned twenty-two
I was wonderin' what to do
And the closer they got, the more those feelin's grew

Daddy's rifle in my hand felt reassurin'
He told me' "Red means run, son, and numbers add up to nothin'"
When the first shot hit the dock I saw it comin'
Raised my rifle to my eye
Never stopped to wonder why
Then I saw black and my face splashed in the sky

Shelter me from the powder and the finger
Cover me with the thought that pulled the trigger
Just think of me as one you never figured
Would fade away so young
With so much left undone
Remember me to my love, I know I'll miss her

Powderfinger Neil Young (Rust Never Sleeps)

Iron Maiden - "Paschendale"

In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier unkown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he's been through
Last communioun of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill time 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again

In the smoke in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all

Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon

Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin


The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's kand god only knows
Into jaws of death we go

Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen

Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale

Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still

I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go

Blood is falling like the rain
It's crimson cloak unveils again
The sound of guns can't hid their shame
And so we die on Paschendale

Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
Running straight at the cannon fire
Running blind as I hold my breath
Say a prayer symphony of death

As we charge the enemy lines
A burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no-one hears
Feel the blood go down my throat

Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again

See my spirit on the wind
Across the lines beyond the hill
Friend and foe will meet again
Those who died at Paschendale
================================================== =

Maiden = pure, 100% ownage

Pink Floyd lyrics - When the Tigers Broke Free

It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.

And old King George
Sent Mother a note
When he heard that father was gone.
It was, I recall,
In the form of a scroll,
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp to remember
His Majesty signed
With his own rubber stamp.

It was dark all around.
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my daddy from me.

Pink Floyd lyrics - Corporal Clegg

Corporal Clegg had a wooden leg
He won it in the war, in 1944.
Corporal Clegg had a medal too
In orange, red, and blue
He found it in the zoo.
Dear, dear were they really sad for me?
Dear, dear will they really laugh at me?
Mrs. Clegg, you must be proud of him.
Mrs. Clegg, another drop of gin.
Corporal Clegg umbrella in the rain
He's never been the same
No one is to blame
Corporal Clegg recieved his medal in a dream
From Her Majesty the queen
His boots were very clean.
Mrs. Clegg, you must be proud of him
Mrs. Clegg, another drop of gin.

rock: