Tag Archives: Rupert Brooke

The Guns Fell Silent

Ninety-Nine years ago today;

on the eleventh hour

of the eleventh day

of the eleventh month

in 1918

the guns fell silent

From Great Britain and  it’s colonies 744,000 were killed in combat, or were missing in action, and 1,675,000 were wounded in the Great War ~ The War to End All Wars.

If I should die,

think only this of me,

that there’s some corner of a foreign field,

That is forever England.

~ Rupert Brooke

Jack Collier

JackCollier7@talktalk net

 

 

 

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poetry and the modern man

Back when Fred Flintsone was a boy I had to learn poetry in school.  Back then I didn’t appreciate poetry at all.  Teaching poetry to a bunch of hard, canny, North of England boys must have been a frustrating task.  We all thoughts that poets were effete, pretentious, and of doubtful sexuality.  Most of all, we thought they were ‘southerners’.

What I didn’t realise back then is the depth of thought and feeling that a good poet puts into every single word and stanza.

Adventure, history, love, lust, myths and legends, tragedy, unrequited love, war… all of these and more are to be found in poetry.  And, even a short poem evokes feelings that the longest novel cannot even begin to touch.

Thiepval

Today is November the 11th.  In 1918, on the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month the guns fell silent.

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England.

The Soldier  ~  Rupert Brooke

Poetry is also about love.  If you want to melt the heart of a woman try poetry.  If her heart is unmoved, then move on, because she just isn’t worth the effort.

‘Tis better to have loved and lost,

Than never to have loved at all.

Tennyson

And just to prove that a great line never dies;

Please listen responsibly.

~

flagjack collier

jackcollier7@talktalk.net

The Somme 1 July 1916 ~ 18 November 1916

Thiepval

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England.  There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

~

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

~

by Rupert Brooke

~

Albert,  Bazentin Ridge,  Longueval,  Deville Wood,  High Wood,  Fromelles,  Pozières,  Guillemont, Maurepas, Ginchy, Flers-Courcelette, Morval, Gueudecourt, Lesboeufs, Le Transloy, Thiepval,  Thiepval Ridge, Ancre Heights, Hawthorn Ridge Redoubt, Grandcourt, Regina Trench.

Before the world grew mad, the Somme was a placid stream of Picardy, flowing gently through a broad and winding valley northwards to the English Channel.  It watered a country of simple beauty… Then came the pestilence.  ~  A.D. Gristwood

On July 1st 1916, the first day of the Battle of the Somme, The British Army suffered 57,470 casualties of which 19,240 were killed.  During the entire battle there were 419,654 British, 202,567 French, and 465,181 German casualties.

~

Red_Rosejackcollier7@talktalk.net

liebster-12

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