What Do I Do If I Get This Job?
Jobs & Education0 min ago
On the 11th day of the 11th month.
11 Answers
I find this so moving, do you?
THE FINAL INSPECTION
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'
Cont.
THE FINAL INSPECTION
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'
Cont.
Answers
1 to 11 of 11
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Author Unknown~
It's the Military, not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the
Press. It's the Military, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of
Speech. It's the Military, not the politicians that ensures our right to
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. It's the Military who salutes
The flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by
The flag.
If you care to offer the smallest token of recognition and appreciation for
The Military, please pass this on and pray for our men and women who have
Served and are currently serving our country and pray for those who
Have given the ultimate sacrifice for freedom.
It's the Military, not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the
Press. It's the Military, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of
Speech. It's the Military, not the politicians that ensures our right to
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. It's the Military who salutes
The flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by
The flag.
If you care to offer the smallest token of recognition and appreciation for
The Military, please pass this on and pray for our men and women who have
Served and are currently serving our country and pray for those who
Have given the ultimate sacrifice for freedom.
I'm not surprised the Author is unknown - I'd think he's asahamed of such trite oversentimental hogwash!
I've got one for you:
http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html
This one has a real author who saw real action and saw the real lie
Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori
(It is a sweet and noble thing to die for your country)
I've got one for you:
http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html
This one has a real author who saw real action and saw the real lie
Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori
(It is a sweet and noble thing to die for your country)
Sorry naomi, but it's not really on to couple respect for our war dead with this enforced and ostentatious exhibition of, well, bathos. If a relative died and you questioned whether a ten-foot display of flowers in the shape of his name was a bit tacky, does that mean you're disrespecting his memory?
I have the utmost respect for the brave people who have given their lives in conflict. I don't tally that with a thought-free ritual of flag saluting, pomp and circumstance, rote pageantry or twee poems.
Personally, I think our war dead deserve better. Retaining your critical faculties at a time of remembrance isn't exactly p*ssing on a cenotaph or flicking the Vs at crying relatives. It saddens me that we're expected to tow the line in such a mindless, cloying way.
But no, it's a smashing poem.
I have the utmost respect for the brave people who have given their lives in conflict. I don't tally that with a thought-free ritual of flag saluting, pomp and circumstance, rote pageantry or twee poems.
Personally, I think our war dead deserve better. Retaining your critical faculties at a time of remembrance isn't exactly p*ssing on a cenotaph or flicking the Vs at crying relatives. It saddens me that we're expected to tow the line in such a mindless, cloying way.
But no, it's a smashing poem.
I found this poem deeply, deeply moving. I'm sure you will too.
In the year Two Thousand and One on the Eleventh day of September,
The fair city of New York did suffer a terrible attack it will long remember
As two very tall buildings were each hit by a plane
A thing I hope will never happen again
For it did cause many folk to lament
When men on that terrible suicide mission were sent
To destroy those buildings at enormous cost to life and limb
All because they worshipped Allah and wanted to glorify Him
And after that day did begin the terrible war in Afghanistan
And in the fair land of Iraq also a war began
And people all over the world did quake with fright and worry
And it does not seem if it will end in a hurry.
And so I say, shame on those who carried out that terrible assault
By any standard one would have to judge them seriously at fault.
In the year Two Thousand and One on the Eleventh day of September,
The fair city of New York did suffer a terrible attack it will long remember
As two very tall buildings were each hit by a plane
A thing I hope will never happen again
For it did cause many folk to lament
When men on that terrible suicide mission were sent
To destroy those buildings at enormous cost to life and limb
All because they worshipped Allah and wanted to glorify Him
And after that day did begin the terrible war in Afghanistan
And in the fair land of Iraq also a war began
And people all over the world did quake with fright and worry
And it does not seem if it will end in a hurry.
And so I say, shame on those who carried out that terrible assault
By any standard one would have to judge them seriously at fault.
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