Poems About Love For Mother's day for Kids About Lfe For Mom About Death about Mothers Friendship : Memorial Poems Images Pictures Photos 2013

Memorial Poems Defination

Source(Google.com.pk)

The annual poppy symbols flaunt

Perennial sorrow;

Gratitude pride will not vaunt

Tomorrow.

I leave the cenotaph,
Here, between tide and tide,
With weed-cerements, green bands,
Drift-water, reveal the wrack
To remember them, laughing, young,
To remember the pubs, the dances, the drink,
To recall the clean, boy-faces, so resigned
But not the blood of battles, the stench,
Nor even the sight of the steel-torn guts
And how they prayed as the Padre prayed
Here, with the spume-flecked waves
Namur King
*Nissen huts - corrugated iron clad huts widely used by the army in Second World War. Quonset huts (in US).
NAMUR KING 1915-68
NAMUR KING 1915-68
You saw, you felt, you knew full well, as friend and foe were taken
It was for each other, through shot and shell, the madness you endured
We cannot know, we were not there, it's beyond our comprehension
For far too many, no long life ahead, free of struggle and pain and the gun
I do not know your name, but I know you died

The unctuous adulation of the cleric;

I crave sea-silences, to laugh,

Or to be sick!

In the place of dead men's bones,

Here, where the grey gulls glide

And the wind moans;

In pools of the ebb-tide flow,

With froth of spume on wetted sands

Like snow.

And the wreckage of wars;

Outward go, then, inevitably back,

While I pause

Remember the tales they told,

The lewd jokes, the songs that were sung,

Of old.

(Left, but a little time),

The women, seduced with a wink

And a gin and lime!

On embarkation day;

The saddened girls whom they left behind

In the family way!

And the screaming fears;

Not the grovelling down in a shallow trench,

Or the tears;

And the mangled limbs....

Nor the Church Parade behind Nissen huts*

Singing hymns;

For the Proven Cause;

Proud, perhaps, of the part they played....

And I pause

Of the endless tide,

To forget the rows of regimented graves

Where brave men died.

NAMUR KING was born in Blackwood (South Wales) on the day British Army won the battle at the Belgian town of Namur. Hence the name. (5 of his brothers all named John had previously died of TB.)

In 1939, at 24 years old, he volunteered for the British Expeditionary Force to France. he saw action as dispatch rider and driver, coming under enemy fire. He was evacuated at Dunkirk.

Subsequently he was stationed in the Falkland Islands, as S. America was under threat of Japanese attack.I do not know your name, but I know you died

I do not know from where you came, but I know you died

Your uniform, branch of service, it matters not to me

Whether Volunteer or Conscript, or how it came to be

That politicians' failures, or some power-mad ambition

Brought you too soon to your death, in the name of any nation

By bloody death, that your life too, was forfeit and forsaken

Yet on you went and fought and died, in your close and private hell

For Mate or Pal or Regiment and memories never to tell

Side by side, through wound and pain, and comradeship assured

No family ties, or bloodline link, could match that bond of friend

Who shared the horror and kept on going, at last until the end