Where could I find a poem titled The Big War?? ?

Question

Don't know where to look,,,,Thanks & Have a Great Sunday

Answer 1

Elaine was referring to an event, I think, not a poem. Ah, nice to see you're interested, buddy.

Answer 2

It's not the Big War, but here's a d**n fine piece with broken bodies and rotting souls...

*****

''WALKING NEXT DAY UPON THE FATAL SHORE"

from THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY by CYRIL TOURNEUR

WALKING next day upon the fatal shore,

Among the slaughtered bodies of our men

Which the full-stomached sea had cast upon

The sands, it was my unhappy chance to light

Upon a face, whose favour when it lived,

My astonished mind informed me I had seen.

He lay in's armour, as if that had been

His coffin; and the weeping sea, like one

Whose milder temper doth lament the death

Of him whom in his rage he slew, runs up

The shore, embraces him, kisses his cheek,

Goes back again, and forces up the sands

To bury him, and every time it parts

Sheds tears upon him, till at last (as if

It could no longer endure to see the man

Whom it had slain, yet loath to leave him) with

A kind of unresolved unwilling pace,

Winding her waves one in another, like

A man that folds his arms or wrings his hands

For grief, ebbed from the body, and descends

As if it would sink down into the earth,

And hide itself for shame of such a deed.

*****

Answer 3

Errrrrr Err Errrrrrr Errrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!

Good Morning Andrew !!!!!!!

Answer 4

The Big War

  



  He was nineteen on that cold January day

When he was drafted and was taken away

Infantry training made him into a rock hard man

Then a ship waited to take him to a far away land

He learned to live with all the mud and rain

And with a diseases that caused a lot of pain

Time moved slowly until three birthdays had gone past

Until the war ended and he came home at last

All the medals were hidden in a drawer

Grim reminders of a terrible long war

What he experienced nobody will ever be told

And to no publication will they ever be sold

Nobody will ever know what he had been through

To help keep this country free for me and you

Harold C. Smith





Courtesy of Poemhunter.com

Answer 5

I searched and searched but not sure I have what you want here! The link I am supplying you with is  a library source, there is a book called The Big War and the author is also a poet, but not sure this is what your looking for! I used this link very often and it is a great place to buy books also, very reasonable I might add!

Maybe you could try this link as it is a library, and maybe if this doesn't work for you, maybe a library close to you, might be able to help you out!Good Luck I know it can be frustrating at times not to find what you are searching for!

Cheers

Answer 6

  

GUNGA DIN

by Rudyard Kipling

  

YOU may talk o' gin an' beer  

When you're quartered safe out 'ere,  

An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;  

But if it comes to slaughter  

You will do your work on water,

An' you'll l**k the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.  

Now in Injia's sunny clime,  

Where I used to spend my time  

A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,  

Of all them black-faced crew  

The finest man I knew  

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.  

  

    It was "Din! Din! Din!  

    You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!  

    Hi! slippy hitherao!

    Water, get it! Panee lao!  

    You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din!"  

  

The uniform 'e wore  

Was nothin' much before,  

An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,

For a twisty piece o' rag  

An' a goatskin water-bag  

Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.  

When the sweatin' troop-train lay  

In a sidin' through the day,  

Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,  

We shouted "Harry By!"  

Till our throats were bricky-dry,  

Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.  

  

    It was "Din! Din! Din!  

    You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?  

    You put some juldee in it,  

    Or I'll marrow you this minute,  

    If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"  

  

'E would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done,  

An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.  

If we charged or broke or cut,  

You could bet your bloomin' nut,  

'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.

With 'is mussick on 'is back,  

'E would skip with our attack,  

An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire."  

An' for all 'is dirty 'ide,  

'E was white, clear white, inside

When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!  

  

    It was "Din! Din! Din!"  

    With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.  

    When the cartridges ran out,  

    You could 'ear the front-files shout:

    "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"  

  

I sha'n't forgit the night  

When I dropped be'ind the fight  

With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.  

I was chokin' mad with thirst,

An' the man that spied me first  

Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.  

  

'E lifted up my 'ead,  

An' 'e plugged me where I bled,  

An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water—green;  

It was crawlin' an' it stunk,  

But of all the drinks I've drunk,  

I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.  

  

    It was "Din! Din! Din!  

    'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;  

    'E's chawin' up the ground an' 'e's kickin' all around:  

    For Gawd's sake, git the water, Gunga Din!"  

  

'E carried me away  

To where a dooli lay,  

An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.  

'E put me safe inside,  

An' just before 'e died:  

"I 'ope you liked your drink," sez Gunga Din.  

So I'll meet 'im later on  

In the place where 'e is gone—

Where it's always double drill and no canteen;  

'E'll be squattin' on the coals  

Givin' drink to pore damned souls,  

An' I'll get a swig in h**l from Gunga Din!  

  

    Din! Din! Din!  

    You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!  

    Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you,  

    By the livin' Gawd that made you,  

    You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!  

Answer 7

Good question. I was wondering that myself. If you find out,let me know. I don`t need any comments from the "PEANUT GALLERY".

Answer 8

It might be written today!!! But, it'll be disastrously 'inferior' to a geni-*ss. heheheheheheeeeeeeee.......

Good Morning!!!

Answer 9

The big wars are what they came for...

...But it was the "little wars" within themselves...

...The Generals could not win...

(little improv there...)

Answer 10

Not The Big War, but..

Suicide in the Trenches

I knew a simple soldier boy

Who grinned at life in empty joy,

Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,

And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,

With crumps and lice and lack of rum,

He put a bullet through his brain.

No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye

Who cheer when soldier lads march by,

Sneak home and pray you'll never know

The h**l where youth and laughter go.

Siegfried Sassoon

Answer 11

It seems I didn’t get the title exactly right:

Big War Man

http://bootnewt.envy.nu/bigwarman.htm

(instrumental intro)

Who talks so loud and acts so proud (crazy)? It's the Big War Man.

who’s gonna steal the oil, the spoils? Just see, it's the Big War Man.

World hates the Shrub, and he wonders why.

Where his bombs rain down, brown-skinned people die.

War just keeps him crowin' - oil cronies play.

He'd steal another race, to stay.

Fight after fight, the looney Right's crazy for their Big Oil Man.

Rush on the radio says, "Hey, listen to our Big War Man."

When his bombs came down, joy was on his face.

He thinks might makes right, and he has God's grace.

Arguments keep shiftin,' as we hear him say:

"If I say you're wrong, you'll pay!"

Bush won't listen to world viewpoints, 'cause his type can't get along.

Diplomacy's demeaning to his screeching right wing throng.

World rejects his war hawk message, 'cause Iraq is not his own.

This plays at home...

(instrumental break)

World hates the Shrub, dropping bombs from high.

World King whose crown says brown skins must die.

What the h**l's he provin'?  Everyone must know:

Stealing oil's what makes him go.

Soon the right wing starts to bicker; Bush's scandals get to him.

Shrub's blustering will falter; his excuses get too thin.

But he hopes no one will notice, he's just got to find another war to stay...

War is his way... for him to stay...

War is his way... for him to stay...

War is his way... for him to stay...

(instrumental fade)