The Sandbag Times Issue No: 29 - March 2017

Poetry Corner
INVISIBLE KNOT
We are the lads that put pen to pad and
signed our names on the line
Then quickly jumped into rank with boots
that shine.
Proud with a smile and a gleam in our eye
for we are the ones on whom you rely.
But when we get ill and break down many
deny.
When we are called to war we are not shy
and we fight on though some may die.
When rounds come down we return fire
then hitting the ground always in cover.
That snap and crack you never forget them
mortar rounds that hit with effect.
Day and night we were never all right
helmets on and ready to fight.
In enemy contact and taking a life will
forever stay in your head so you can’t sleep
at night.
Some of us come back but not many alright
as we stag on at home and stare out the
window at night, a lot of times get angry
and lash out and fight without ever
thinking twice -!
To our families and wives this is a fright
they don’t understand but I’m hoping they
might.
For many of us end up in jail lose our
families and wives or just take our own
lives.
You can’t see our injuries they are invisible
to see but put my head on your shoulders
and you would surely see.
So please help me with my PTSD.
Written by Karl P
_______________________
BARSTOOL TO BATTLEFIELD
On a barstool he sat the first time he saw
the poster.
Staring at his pint bubbles floating from the
coaster.
Looked up across the room, saw a man
pointing straight at him.
“Your country needs you” is all it took, he
decided he was in.
He remembered all the things that his
father had done.
Seen all of the photo’s, of where he’d been
and where he’d gone.
He knew in his heart, that this is what his
Father would have wanted.
He was young, he was brave, by the task
he was not daunted.
There was cheering, there was laughter, as
he waited in the line.
Not knowing he was waiting to be sent
away to die.
“I’ll be home for Christmas” he said, as he
closed his Mothers door.
3 months, 4 months, is all it takes to win a
bloody war.
2 weeks of basic training is all he was
allowed.
Here’s your knife and here’s your rifle, go
make your country proud.
Arriving at the frontline, he stood taking in
the sights.
The bloodshed and the chaos, all the brutal
loss of life.
No more cheering, no more laughter, no
more waiting in a line.
The loss of life for country, it is now, it is
the time.
Don’t forget your Mother loves you. Don’t
forget your Daddy is proud.
Is all that he could think as he lay dying on
the ground.
Men and boys on the battlefield, fighting
for our lives.
When all they want is to be back home,
with their children and their wives.
And when the fighting’s done, just another
pointless war.
There’s no turning back the time, to the
way things were before.
A Daddy dies a hero, a husband for a wife
Gone but not forgotten, we thank you for
your life.
Written by David Gordon
_______________________________
Bring them Home
Fighting a war for their country,
Giving the best years of their life
Walking beside all their brothers,
Yearning to be with their wives
Watching their comrades bleeding,
Carrying them back to be safe
Dodging the bullets from gunfire,
Constantly fleeing from strafe
Bring them home Lord
Bring them home
Holding their brothers when dying,
Shedding their tears for their loss
Fighting with passion and trying,
To man up and not give a toss
Sleeping in moments of respite,
Eating cold food on the trot
Always looking out for each other,
Warning and beating the clock
Bring them home Lord
Bring them home
Needing the war to be over,
Scared that today is their last
Constantly dodging the bullets,
Returning fire with a blast
Finally getting the signal,
Deployment over at last
Relief and joy that it's over,
Devastation for brothers lost
Bring them home Lord
Bring them home
Walking in silence to aircraft,
Silently offering prayer
Fatigued and shattered from combat,
Showing lost brothers their care
Falling asleep in mid flight now,
Letting their thoughts start to roam
Making their final journey,
To all their loved ones back home
Jane Shields (C)
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All Poetry compiled for the Sandbag Times
by Jane Shields, All work is protected by
copyright and should not be copied,
reproduced or altered without the writers
permission.
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