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Open Poetry #49
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Bombers Moon
| Open Poetry #49 |
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Bombers Moon |
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Cari Member Posts 411 Englnand |
Bombers Moon Coal black bats of terror Pick their way through the shooting gallery The uncaring moon will show the way ~ Bowels of haphazard death empty On crouching innocence, Blind Fortuna chooses who lives or dies ~ Women, who once found romance in your smile Sealed their love on a far off evening Now curse your pitiless radiance A full moon in a cloudless night sky was called a Bombers Moon in the 2nd World War Whether England in 1941 or Germany in 1944 the innocent shared the same sisterhood |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
I suppose they would look like coal bats of terror on the night sky. It would be a frightening experience. Bomber's Moon how, applicable! Well done! Remember the British group Eric Burdon and The Animals. They did a song called "Sky Pilot". During WW2 that was the handle soldiers hung on the army pastors etc. He blesses the boys as they stand in line The smell of gun grease and the bayonets they shine He's there to help them all that he can To make them feel wanted he's a good holy man Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, never reach the sky He smiles at the young soldiers Tells them its all right He knows of their fear in the forthcoming fight Soon there'll be blood and many will die Mothers and fathers back home they will cry Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, never reach the sky He mumbles a prayer and it ends with a smile The order is given They move down the line But he's still behind and he'll meditate But it won't stop the bleeding or ease the hate As the young men move out into the battle zone He feels good, with God you're never alone He feels tired and he lays on his bed Hopes the men will find courage in the words that he said Sky pilot.....sky Pilot How high can you fly You'll never, never, never reach the sky You're soldiers of God you must understand The fate of your country is in your young hands May God give you strength Do your job real well If it all was worth it Only time it will tell In the morning they return With tears in their eyes The stench of death drifts up to the skies A soldier so ill looks at the sky pilot Remembers the words "Thou shalt not kill" Sky pilot.....sky pilot How high can you fly You never, never, never reach the sky true love never looks after it's own interests |
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Cari Member Posts 411 Englnand |
Yes you’re right, Sky Pilot was the British forces name for a Padre, and probably still is. I was called back to base from up country to be told by a Sky Pilot of the sudden death of my mother. I remember he stumbled a bit. Two antidotes on WW2. In 1942 the first American service men arrived in Britain. One walked into a pub and was greeted by the landlord. “Hi Yank, your first pint is on the house, its there at the end of the bar, though it maybe a bit flat.” “Flat? Why should it be flat”? “Cos it’s been standing waiting for you for two bloody years” The last is true so I’m told. When the female services arrived over here, a northern textile company were given the contract to provide their underclothes. So grateful were they for the order in hard times, they decided, free of charge, to decorate the ladies pants with the Stars and Stripes completely unaware of the reverence that Americans place on their national flag. When the first batch arrived all hell broke loose. Churchill himself had to go on his knees to apologise. I leave it to you to guess where they placed the flag. Thanks for reading. * * Cari. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Well done, I feel anything I can say here has already been said by you two. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
War poetry is in a class of its own. Being a pacifist, I read it to remember why I am. I give this "war"poem an A. It gave me message to add to the beauty of "High Flight.." "Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,..." John Magee "Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance." |
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