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Remembrance Day 11.11.11
For those who were killed in battle, For those who gave up their lives to save others For those who fought because they were forced to, For those who died standing up for a just cause For those who said war was wrong, For those who tried to make the peace For those who prayed when others had no time to pray For those creatures who needlessly die For those trees that needlessly are slaughtered For all of mankind let us quietly pray: May your God hold them in peace May Love flow over the Earth and cleanse us all This day and for always. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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Always a day i stop and remember the sacrifice so many made, and those who made it but bore the scars. In this era many families are still living with the loss and pain caused.
Thankyou for my freedom And to one hero who did his part, i miss you more than anything KX89245. | |
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mdiver said: Always a day i stop and remember the sacrifice so many made, and those who made it but bore the scars. In this era many families are still living with the loss and pain caused.
Thankyou for my freedom And to one hero who did his part, i miss you more than anything KX89245. Oh my God, how strong are those words, yet we often take so much for granted. to you! Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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LOVE ♪♫♪♫ ♣¤═══¤۩۞۩ஜ۩ஜ۩۞۩¤═══¤♣ | |
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There is a cemetary not far, with so many young soldiers, 16, 17, 18 who died for their country.
They will never be forgotten, and I am happy one day is set for us to stand still, remember and pray, as the other days we can go on with our lives quite selfishly. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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we really are so freaking fortunate it's ridiculous
we will remember them. | |
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emm said: we really are so freaking fortunate it's ridiculous
we will remember them. It totally is. It makes me ashamed. Love your avatar. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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They shall not grow old as we who 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. One of my favourite poems 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. | |
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11th November 1919
The First Two Minute Silence in London: The first stroke of eleven produced a magical effect. The tram cars glided into stillness, motors ceased to cough and fume, and stopped dead, and the mighty-limbed dray horses hunched back upon their loads and stopped also, seeming to do it of their own volition. Someone took off his hat, and with a nervous hesitancy the rest of the men bowed their heads also. Here and there an old soldier could be detected slipping unconsciously into the posture of 'attention'. An elderly woman, not far away, wiped her eyes, and the man beside her looked white and stern. Everyone stood very still ... The hush deepened. It had spread over the whole city and become so pronounced as to impress one with a sense of audibility. It was a silence which was almost pain ... And the spirit of memory brooded over it all. ~~From the Manchester Guardian, 12th November 1919.~~ Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. | |
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mdiver said: They shall not grow old as we who 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. One of my favourite poems 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. Beautiful. (And look at the shambles our country is now, for all they fought for. ) We need to make a stand, and not only be proud of our ancestors but ourselves and our future genererations to come. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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benyamin said: The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori. Owen had it right. All these years later, and still so many brainwashed children dying for a war that is not theirs. Oh shit, my hat done fell off | |
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WE read books, watch movies, hear stories, but we can never ever imagine what it was really like and what those brave people went through for us. [Edited 11/9/07 9:55am] Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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benyamin said: Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Those words, in English or Latin, still give me goose bumps. Makes me wonder if this generation could stand on the wall like those before us. | |
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If George and Dick had to gear up and fight, would we still be at war?
Oh shit, my hat done fell off | |
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mdiver said: benyamin said: Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Those words, in English or Latin, still give me goose bumps. Makes me wonder if this generation could stand on the wall like those before us. Don't even ask that question, for sadly we already know the answer. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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mdiver said: benyamin said: Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Those words, in English or Latin, still give me goose bumps. Makes me wonder if this generation could stand on the wall like those before us. I think the sense of honour has largely disappeared, but people are still willing to fight. Modern warfare doesn't compare to what they faced though. That was chaotic and mental. I can see where the honour aspect came in though; on a field with thousands of others like you fighting for the same belief... | |
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benyamin said: mdiver said: Those words, in English or Latin, still give me goose bumps. Makes me wonder if this generation could stand on the wall like those before us. I think the sense of honour has largely disappeared, but people are still willing to fight. Modern warfare doesn't compare to what they faced though. That was chaotic and mental. I can see where the honour aspect came in though; on a field with thousands of others like you fighting for the same belief... Honour comes from inside and a sense of community,pride and commonality.....cant see the burberry wearing chav twats having that....plus you cant wear a helmet sideways with leisure wear. Many of those that fell would turn in their grave if they saw how the freedom they died for is being used | |
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Many of us may have had Grandparents/Great Uncles etc who fought for our freedom.
Will our daughters and sons, grandchildren also respect Remembrance Day and those who fell for our freedom? Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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mdiver said: benyamin said: I think the sense of honour has largely disappeared, but people are still willing to fight. Modern warfare doesn't compare to what they faced though. That was chaotic and mental. I can see where the honour aspect came in though; on a field with thousands of others like you fighting for the same belief... Honour comes from inside and a sense of community,pride and commonality.....cant see the burberry wearing chav twats having that....plus you cant wear a helmet sideways with leisure wear. Many of those that fell would turn in their grave if they saw how the freedom they died for is being used mors et fugacem persequitur virum nec parcit inbellis iuventae poplitibus timidove tergo Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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MissMe said: Many of us may have had Grandparents/Great Uncles etc who fought for our freedom.
Will our daughters and sons, grandchildren also respect Remembrance Day and those who fell for our freedom? They had better had do. My kids will be raised to remember and bow their heads in respect and thanks. A couple of years ago i was driving to an appointment on 11.11 and as the silence approached i pulled over in to a layby and stepped out of the car. A truck pulled in behind me and the driver did the same. We stood in silence and listened to 11 chime. It was eerie as we stood there and at the end of the silence we simply nodded to each other and went our way.It made me feel proud that many still do respect and remember. There are many of our generation that remember, it is up to us to remind the next generation that they are here because of those that fell. | |
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mdiver said: benyamin said: I think the sense of honour has largely disappeared, but people are still willing to fight. Modern warfare doesn't compare to what they faced though. That was chaotic and mental. I can see where the honour aspect came in though; on a field with thousands of others like you fighting for the same belief... Honour comes from inside and a sense of community,pride and commonality.....cant see the burberry wearing chav twats having that....plus you cant wear a helmet sideways with leisure wear. Many of those that fell would turn in their grave if they saw how the freedom they died for is being used True though. I want the 1920s back. | |
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MissMe said: mdiver said: Honour comes from inside and a sense of community,pride and commonality.....cant see the burberry wearing chav twats having that....plus you cant wear a helmet sideways with leisure wear. Many of those that fell would turn in their grave if they saw how the freedom they died for is being used mors et fugacem persequitur virum nec parcit inbellis iuventae poplitibus timidove tergo | |
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mdiver said: MissMe said: Many of us may have had Grandparents/Great Uncles etc who fought for our freedom.
Will our daughters and sons, grandchildren also respect Remembrance Day and those who fell for our freedom? They had better had do. My kids will be raised to remember and bow their heads in respect and thanks. A couple of years ago i was driving to an appointment on 11.11 and as the silence approached i pulled over in to a layby and stepped out of the car. A truck pulled in behind me and the driver did the same. We stood in silence and listened to 11 chime. It was eerie as we stood there and at the end of the silence we simply nodded to each other and went our way.It made me feel proud that many still do respect and remember. There are many of our generation that remember, it is up to us to remind the next generation that they are here because of those that fell. I remember last year. I was in a shop in town and an announcement came up 5 minutes prior to the minutes silence. Everybody stopped. Tills stopped. Transactions stopped. Chatting stopped. One lady I do remember chatted away to her husband, and shouted at him for ignoring her as he stood in silence too. My blood curdled, as did others I expect, from looking at their faces. Need I say what she was wearing? Maybe it was totally irrelevant and just pure coincidence. We were saddened to say the least. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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I was in a very busy supermarket last remembrance day there was complete silence everything stopped. | |
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mdiver said: MissMe said: mors et fugacem persequitur virum nec parcit inbellis iuventae poplitibus timidove tergo I remember studying Latin at school. Of course I do not understand latin but reading the translation, I mean, WOW, I wish we studied more. Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis (1878 - 1937) | |
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MissMe said: mdiver said: Those words, in English or Latin, still give me goose bumps. Makes me wonder if this generation could stand on the wall like those before us. Don't even ask that question, for sadly we already know the answer. I dont think so people are more aware of what the governments are doing war is the last resort | |
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To all those who have fallen and to the men and women still fighting | |
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oldpurple said: MissMe said: Don't even ask that question, for sadly we already know the answer. I dont think so people are more aware of what the governments are doing war is the last resort I don't see the correlation | |
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