Your Poetry Dot Com

Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!

Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+

Custom Search


Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	29-May 17:26:21 AEST

Menu

· Our eBay Store

· Error Submit

Poetry

· Submit Poetry

· Least Read Poems

· Members Listing

· Old Site Post 2001

· Old Site Pre 2001

· Poetry Archive

· Public Domain Poetry

Stories

· Stories (NEW ! )

· Submit Story

· Story Topics

· Stories Archive

· Story Search

Community

· Our Poetry Forums

· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

Site Help

· FAQ

· Feedback

Members Areas

· Your Account

· Members Journals

· Premium Sign-Up

Premium Section

· Special Section

· Premium Poems

· Premium Submit

· Premium Search

· Premium Archive

· Premium Topics

Fun & Games

· Jokes

· Bubble Puzzle

· Cross Word Easy

· Word Hunt

Reference

· Dictionary (Rhyming)

· Site Updates

· Special Content

Search

Top

Help This Site

· Donations

Others

· Moderators

Our Other Sites

· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

Social

Array ( [sid] => 147021 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Company Fifty Four [time] => 2008-12-24 14:31:17 [hometext] => Part of my mispent youth. bern2 [bodytext] => Marching through the desert sands,
Was the Company Fifty-Four.
Here no green and pleasant lands.
Just the barren desert floor.
Full packs on our bent and tired backs,
A rifle and fixed bayonet at the ready.
The deadly fear of an Arab attack,
With nerves that were not too steady.
Bidons of water warm not fresh,
To quench an everlasting thirst.
We were caught in the Legions mesh,
Wondering who would die the first.
Mile after mile marching at the Legions pace,
Ammunition weighing us down.
The Sergeant Chef with a grim face,
Driving us on past the next town.
The Company Fifty-Four was to replace the dead and the dying,
Of a God forsaken fort in the middle of no-where.
A handful of survivors were on our Company relying,
Legionnaires some that by now did not any more care.
Onward we marched to the refrain of a Legion song,
Desperate with throats parched from the dust and the heat.
None of us in this land did belong,
We just followed our sore aching feet.
The fort came into sight the Tricolour still flying,
We had arrived in the nick of time.
We buried the dead and tended the dying.
Before we washed off the march's grime.
Sentries were placed at strategic points,
Machine guns brought into position.
We hasted to tend our aching joints,
And re-cursed the heavy ammunition.
Two days to build new defences and repair the fort,
Then the Arabs attacked yet once again.
With a new strength we somehow fought,
There was no time to take real aim.
Now there were Arabs dead and dying,
Brave men without a doubt.
This was honesty without lying.
As their warriors were slowly wiped out.
[comments] => 0 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 57 [informant] => bern2 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )

Company Fifty Four

Contributed by bern2 on Wednesday, 24th December 2008 @ 02:31:17 PM in AEST
Topic: war

Marching through the desert sands,
Was the Company Fifty-Four.
Here no green and pleasant lands.
Just the barren desert floor.
Full packs on our bent and tired backs,
A rifle and fixed bayonet at the ready.
The deadly fear of an Arab attack,
With nerves that were not too steady.
Bidons of water warm not fresh,
To quench an everlasting thirst.
We were caught in the Legions mesh,
Wondering who would die the first.
Mile after mile marching at the Legions pace,
Ammunition weighing us down.
The Sergeant Chef with a grim face,
Driving us on past the next town.
The Company Fifty-Four was to replace the dead and the dying,
Of a God forsaken fort in the middle of no-where.
A handful of survivors were on our Company relying,
Legionnaires some that by now did not any more care.
Onward we marched to the refrain of a Legion song,
Desperate with throats parched from the dust and the heat.
None of us in this land did belong,
We just followed our sore aching feet.
The fort came into sight the Tricolour still flying,
We had arrived in the nick of time.
We buried the dead and tended the dying.
Before we washed off the march's grime.
Sentries were placed at strategic points,
Machine guns brought into position.
We hasted to tend our aching joints,
And re-cursed the heavy ammunition.
Two days to build new defences and repair the fort,
Then the Arabs attacked yet once again.
With a new strength we somehow fought,
There was no time to take real aim.
Now there were Arabs dead and dying,
Brave men without a doubt.
This was honesty without lying.
As their warriors were slowly wiped out.

Copyright © bern2 ... [ 2008-12-24 14:31:17]
(Date/Time posted on site)

Advertisments:

Previous Posted Poem | | Next Posted Poem

Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more

All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.

While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com