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I stand in awe of those air force souls, who flew across the sky,
Visiting there many years before, with childhood wings on high.
An innocent age unaware of death, fearing no one else on earth,
Destiny first considered them ‘Sky Warriors,’ on their day of birth.
For the chosen few have done many things, that we’ll never see,
And visited places where we’ve not been and will likely never be.
Where the eagle is king no more and must share his vast domain,
While warriors fly through day and night, noisily in sun, hail or rain.
Flying close to stuttering stars or soaring, through billowing clouds,
Confident and at one with their mounts, devoid of curious crowds.
Flouting nature’s strict physical laws, developing their deadly skills,
Building a selection of sensations and revelling in electrifying thrills,
Bomber crews on bombing runs, flying grimly to the gates of hell,
Single-minded, but still undaunted, by those deadly accurate shell.
And those who fell ten thousand feet, onto unyielding earth below,
Tumbling down in feeble flight trailing smoke with aircraft all aglow.
They accomplished things expected and gave no quarter in return,
Their embedded boyhood habits linger, are impossible to discern.
Death was still a stranger to them, in an ignorant but personal way,
Pushing on to complete their allotted tasks, in a manner most blasé.
Though death prowled around, they still shunned it from their mind,
Returning to their early boyhood dreams, which were a lot more kind.
And when they felt the hand of God, resting gently on their shoulder,
‘It’s time, my son to come with me, never more, will you grow older.’
And He was greeted with a cheery smile and a warm beguiling grin,
‘I Did my best My Lord’, they utter, as He forgave them for every sin.
When called by God they cease to age and remain that way for ever,
But we grow older by the day while our features wrinkle and weather.
They remain how we remember them, a vision: as they were leaving,
That will endure in our minds forever, or in private moments grieving.
From that time when all around is bright, noise has away been sent,
While all stress, fatigue and trepidation, have been completely spent.
The warriors in the sky who walked upon, a hallowed corridor to God,
Will forevermore have peace of mind, for the pathway that they trod.
THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD, AS WE THAT ARE LEFT, GROW OLD.
AGE SHALL NOT WEARY THEM, NOR THE YEARS CONDEMN.
AT THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN AND IN THE MORNING,
WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.
.
Author notes
Armistice Day approaches (11/11/)and this is a memorial poem inspired by those who flew and never returned.
Written November 7th, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- The Last Post by rufina caraid.
508 points, ended November 11, 2006, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Two Options by IndividualEleven. by IndividualEleven.
850 points, ended May 13, 2007, 22 entries
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400 points, ended May 22, 2007, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Remember Our Protectors by catz.
1200 points, ended May 30, 2007, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - "Gold" this time by Virgoan.
550 points, ended June 6, 2007, 49 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Got a Warrior in you? ~Come and march a poem right in to my contest.~ by BlueEyeWonder1988.
300 points, ended July 5, 2007, 4 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
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Da Bomb has hit D-Day,
Hooo-ah, on this one. It speaks truth. realism, and the imagery of the topic situation so well. I love the fancy wording too it flows to the theme. Goodluck in my contest. Nice peice of work though.
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This is awesome. The after effect as you read the poem is truly great.
My favorite poems:
Flying close to stuttering stars or soaring, through billowing clouds,
Confident and at one with their mounts, devoid of curious crowds.
The lines resembles greatness at par.
Thanks for sharing and I wish you all the best in the contest. Keep writing my friend.
~VIRGOAN~
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virgoan
thanks for the applause and comments. I greatly appreciate it and glad you enjoyed it. there are many others like The Fighter Pilot and the Pipers series that you may enjoy too.
Bazza
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This is a wonderful piece, Barry. You've written with skill and feeling in this vivid and awesome poem.
Beautiful job and thank you for entering
Dee
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great write, loved the imagery good work and thanks for entering - Jacen an IndividualEleven.
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Brilliant tribute
A wonderful poem Barry.
I am a member of our local British Legion club (in fact I live only staggering distance away, and I play crown green bowls for them), and we still have Armistice night every year.
All the tables are lit by candles - there's no electric light - and we play cards etc ; paying our tribute to the fallen from two World Wars at 11pm.
It gratifies me when you read about those young men who fought in the Battle of Britain, as my hero WSC dubbed it ; those young men were from all corners of the Empire - Oz, NZ, Canada, the Windies etc, and even a few brave boys from the US of A - plus freedom fighters from the Eastern Bloc.
We were very fortunate that we had a slightly better fighter aircraft, but I still believe that the overriding reason for our victory was our passion and "togetherness" ; we may take the mickey out of your lot (particularly when I was in Sydney in Nov 2003 for the rugby!) but we still have a tremendous respect for our "criminal" friends!
I see you're on my favs list. Most of my poems were written pre-my buggering off period, and I took them off the site. I have about 200. I'm copying one of my favs 4 you here, it's about my hero. I was sitting at the computer one night thinking about watching the great man's funeral on TV when I was a little boy, and I burst into tears. I wrote this piece in about half an hour - and cried all the way through. It was as though I was really there watching his cortege go by. I hope you like it.
Kind regards,
Robin Tumman.
At the Funeral of Winston Spencer Churchill
By God, you lived life to the full,
They could hardly describe you as being dull,
As I stand and watch your cortege drift by,
And see all the people well up and cry,
Can you believe that abroad, mourners are paid?
Yet here's genuine public affection displayed,
So, what did you have, that we so admired,
How can an ancient nation, by one man, be inspired?
You were born to priviledge, raised by a nanny,
Yearned parental love, and isn't it funny,
You imagine great men outstanding at school,
One would consider it the norm, perhaps the rule,
Yet at Harrow it appeared that you were a dunce,
You were held back a year - more than once,
You have said, being slow taught you to structure a write,
And by gum lad, it must be said, you did alright!
When you finally left and joined the Army,
Many people considered you barmy,
As a correspondent, you were sent to war,
To write of the problems we had with the Boer,
Yet in Africa, your spirit came shining through,
When you escaped from being a POW,
Overnight, you yourself were in the news,
Which helped to change a lot of people's views.
You followed your father to a parliamentary seat,
And when you married, life looked complete,
You had a very bad stammer, so isn't it strange,
It was as an orator, that you made your name,
But you worked all night on those brilliant speeches,
A lesson to all, that preparation teaches,
Like your father, you were made First Lord of the sea,
In total charge of the Admiralty.
You gained reputation with humourous wit,
Disconcerting your opponents a bit,
Lady Astor it was - a foe of the day,
Stood up in the House ceremoniously to say,
If you were her husband (she shudders to think),
She'd give you a slug of a poison-laced drink,
Your riposte, delivered incredibly quickly,
That if married to her, you'd quaff it willingly!
But the First World War became your ruin,
The U-boats helped in your undoing,
Then Gallipoli soon sealed your fate,
And brought about a Nation's hate,
It takes an awful long time to forget,
The Australians haven't forgiven you yet,
Now this is the truth - your strategy was right,
The dithering of others, though, caused the plight.
It was hard for you to take a back seat then,
You were, of course, the proudest of men,
But something good ALWAYS comes from bad,
Look at the literature you wrote, old lad,
In the Army, you'd been so dashing and gallant,
And now at painting, you showed precocious talent,
Sir Winston, you were a remarkable man,
Now, let's see how International fame began.
Between the wars, your beacon shone, then faded,
You lost your seat, and felt degraded,
You advised your peers of a German plan,
Led by a tyrant - Hitler being that man,
Re-elected you warned the nation,
Of impending doom and conflagration,
And when Chamberlain came, clutching that paper of peace,
Yours was the sole voice in the House of caprice.
When the horrible war then ensued,
You were made Prime Minister, and people were glued,
To radio sets - as though they'd no choice,
But listen to your wonderful patriotic voice,
As each European country capitulated,
Your opinion of Hitler disintegrated,
It must be said, most people chose to surrender,
To this common upstart - this vile pretender.
Faced with invasion and humiliating defeat,
You made what's now known as a world famous speech,
"We''ll fight them on the beaches, anywhere " you had said,
By God, what a leader, and we needed to be led!
We all listened ; and we all heard,
The incredible power, of the spoken word,
One rotund old man inspired a nation,
To follow him, with admiration.
But Winston, your faute was diplomacy,
Forging that vital link across the Atlantic Sea,
And who would have thought you'd command such respect,
From a tyrant like Stalin - well you wouldn't expect.
Yet it was those two great powers, and little old you,
That finally put paid to World War 2,
You were the catalyst between East and West,
Yes you, old lad, in your little string vest.
And when it was over - you got the sack,
And even though you did come back,
It would never be the same,
They couldn't cope with your name,
Like in Julius Caesar, they with their knives,
All of them living insignificant lives,
Most of them dressed in pin striped suits,
NONE of them fit to lick your boots!
So here I stand lad, with a tear in my eye,
Waving a Giant a last goodbye,
Here with the millions from a grateful nation,
Full of respect, and admiration,
Suddenly I realise as I stand in this place,
You'll be up there with a smile on your face,
Saying,"Bloody 'ell Mother, I wish Father could see,
How I've progressed and what happened to me!"
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We would all do well to pay such a vivid tribute to those in uniform! I love how you look at it through a child's eyes to start, and the fact that everything speaks of "on high", and higher still as they are welcomed into paradise! Truly also a fitting tribute to God, and his mercy and love! Reading this definitely left me warm inside! Another great write!
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Thank you
I am glad you enjoyed this poem as it is one of my favourites and really is a collection of boyhood dreams. I have not given up my boyhood dreams and still can recall vividly happenings from age 18 months so it is great to share such things and even better to be appreciated.
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Thanks again Von. I appreciate your comments.
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A different perspective with this Barry - the Air Forces not the soldiers this time. Different yes but no less powerful and leaving Binyon's 4th Stanza from 'The Fallen' adds an extra touch of respect for them all.
Beautifully done.
Von -
BEAUTIFUL POEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh Barry, This is so beautiful. You have honored those who flew the skys and are still wandering the heavens. We should always remember how many lives have been sacrificed for us to remain free. No freedom is not free. It is bought and paid for be so many soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines over the years. God Bless them all. You take good care of yourself. Many Blessings to you. Love, Sandy
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Thanks Ros, yes I am well and I hope you are too. Thanks for the comments, glad you liked it. Barry
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An excellent write, especially for the time of year.We all do well to remember.I hope you are well, Ros
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Honoured for your comments and applause and no .. it was done on purpose and I was hoping that I could get away with it. Hard to get around and my mind would not let me use a bad rhyme so i used 'poetic licence' to make shell mean the plural. Will probably reconstaruct it, and probably will do so soon. Thanks mate. Most of my travelling is the 50 km round trip to find a wireless signal fast enough but will be more permanent (instead of single alternate weeks) after the school holidays. Cant wait, but al least the muse is growing but is fiercly tested with a 4 year old wanting to attention a million times a day. Maybe that is what Grandads are for, but in the New Year this one will be on holidays. Ever tried to type a poem when a kid is tapping the laptop monitor ??? Gees mate .... bloody hard. Anyway, have to go and wipe the Vegemite of my screen ...
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Superb. As always, but even more so, at this time of year. Beautiful tribute, my friend. Well said.
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hi my lovely daddy
I'm glad you're active in writing these days.
Wish you the most wonderful days.
Love you
Shahrzad
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Thanks a million !! what a wonderful comment. Glad you perceived my story and intentions. Thanks too for the applause and I am humbled that you enjoyed my work and hope some of my others meet with your enjoyment too.
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Enchanting!
This was a great tribute to the many fearless men
of valor that fought for liberty and justic for all.
I like the way you creatively romanced the notion of war.
Making it exciting and adventurous.
The notion of warriors being welcome into glory
by a merciful and forgiving Lord was brilliant.
It was creative genius to make them almost god like.
Ageless dieties unlike us mere mortals who live a
lackluster existence then die old and wrinkled.
It makes the reader envious of a life they could
only dream of in slumber. Exciting and memorable.
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Thanks Rory, glad you agree surely 2 minutes per year isn't too much. At least this younger generation seem more interested which is great. Take care mate.
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a nice tribute to the brave men and women who took to the skies to serve in the air force. An enjoyable read.
Rory
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