Re-Union, Wizard Award For Veterans Everywhere Options

[Guest__*]

Faery Award

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs

Re-Union

The sound of muted voices, heard from another age.
Spirits of long dead soldiers who'd turned their final page.
Old Joe sat in the corner, left all alone at last;
Hearing the secret whispers as he relived his past.

He'd met here with his comrades for over sixty years;
Fighting those ancient battles, the love, the joys, the tears.
Tonight the hall was empty, as Time, Immortal Foe
completed all that carnage, begun so long ago.

Old soldiers can be stubborn; Joe sat, and waited for
a lad named Tommy Atkins to march in through the door.
For Joe, and his pal Tommy  had walked through shot and shell
Their loyalty and friendship surviving years of Hell.

Old Joe recalled the moment his leg was shot away,
and good old Tommy Atkins had saved his life that day.
Tom carried him to safety, and then, an old spent round
caught Tommy in the temple. He fell without a sound.

Both of the wounded heroes were invalided home,
They swore that they'd be comrades, wherever they might roam.
Now, at their last reunion, Joe sipped his tepid beer,
and waited with a deepening dread, for Tommy wasn't here.

Joe looked around in dark despair, his heart was sick and sore,
and then his face lit up with joy as Tom walked through the door.
Joe gasped in sheer amazement, for Tommy's face was clean.
The blemish of the bullet's scar was no more to be seen.

Tom stepped up, young and sprightly, saluted his friend Joe.
"Come on old pal, the bugle blows, its time for us to go"
Old Joe stood to attention, they marched out side by side.
Out to the waiting regiment. Those comrades who had died.

The barman watched Joe's corner, and said with some dismay,
"Old Joe seems awfully quiet. I think he's passed away."
But a miracle had happened, Joe found once more his feet
and rank and file with his soldier Pals,

marched off to the drummers beat.
.


.

[Arnfinn]

Hi Tom,

Wont call you an oldie anymore. How about middle aged?

Ya Know.....When I was fifty.....I was inbetween 0 n' 100...kinda thing...
everyone can be middle aged.....even a four year old kid

Mate........ya can be anything in the forces as far as I'm concened..............cept' the RSM. OR ... anyone who carries a swagger stick. Can't remember how many times me 'brass was dirty'.

Your poem would go over very well ... on ANZAC Day 25/04.

You must have a fair voice seeing your a Taffy.

My Uncle was a Compositer....and he worked in Wales before the war.

He told me(I was only a kid).....He said he used to go to work on a bus............He said you'd only go about half a mile and some deep baritone, would start to sing.......by the time the bus reached Cardiff.....you had a Welsh Choir on wheels

See ya later


John