Its ANZAC day here and i would like to know the poem that goes with it, lest we forget?
338628
They Shall Not Grow Old
1147000
How about Beds are Burning by Midnight Oil?\n\nThis is a political song about giving native Australian lands back to the the Pintupi, who were among the very last people to come in from the desert. These 'last contact' people began moving from the Gibson Desert to settlements and missions in the 1930s. More were forcibly moved during the 1950's and 1960's to the Papunya settlement. In 1981 they left to return to their own country and established the Kintore community which is nestled in the picturesque Kintore Ranges, surrounded by Mulga and Spinifex country. It is now a thriving little community with a population of about 400.
332035
Sure, but you're question is a bit vague. What, specifically, do you want to know? I can type out the entire poem for you, if that's what you need.
215579
I am so sorry to hear this. My thoughts and prayers are with your brother you and his family.\n\nDo not stand at my grave and weep\nI am not there; I do not sleep.\nI am a thousand winds that blow,\nI am the diamond glints on snow,\nI am the sun on ripened grain,\nI am the gentle autumn rain.\nWhen you awaken in the morning's hush\nI am the swift uplifting rush\nOf quiet birds in circled flight.\nI am the soft stars that shine at night.\nDo not stand at my grave and cry,\nI am not there; I did not die.
376945
I dont know the poem.  But I think its beautiful.  Seems like an interesting topic, poem.
370504
Just fyi I found the poem its\n"I carry your heart" by E E Cummings
451324
Sorry, I don't know, but it gives me the opportunity to remind people of milk in byegone days:\n\n                        Sweet Maisie.\n\nMilk didn’t come in bottles, when we were little boys,\nSo going to the dairy, was one of life’s true joys,\nFor if it were sweet Maisie, who served you out the measure,\nThe extra cup was yours to sup, a memory to treasure. \n\nKathleen only gave us, exactly what she should,\nAt times a little ‘tilly’, we always prayed she would,\nThe youngest of the sisters, I now forget her name,\nWas quite as bad as Kathleen, and dished out just the same.\n\nOld Tom, the three girls’ father, and the owner of the farm,\nNever used the measure, to him it was the norm,\nYou see, he never had a son, and treated all us boys,\nWith lots of cream from off the top, and pence to buy small toys.\n\nThe level mark inside the can, that my mother scratched,\nHad to be watched closely, to ensure that the milk matched,\nFor if you got too greedy - drank more than Maisie gave,\nMy Mum would note the difference, and fly into a rave.\n\nBut last time I was over there, the farm it is now gone,\nNew cottages and houses, the land is built upon,\nYet as I stood and looked around, I saw the corner stone,\nWhere I would drink, the extra milk, before I wandered home.\n\nSo God Bless you, Tom Costello, though sadly now not here,\nAnd to his lovely daughters, to them I raise a cheer,\nTo Kathleen and the youngest, who sometimes drove me crazy,\nI thank you all, for what you gave, but especially you Sweet Maisie.\n\n                         --------------\n\nThanks Netborja for the opportunity..........
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Not sure, but you could check out my poems on my yahoo 360 \n\nand post a comment and vote for your favourite!!\n\nOh ok..try the links below as well!!\n\nGood Luck\n\nJimmy
580628
Robert Browning, the poem is called "My last Duchess" It's my favourite poem.
231141
here you'll find analysis of this poem\n\nhttp://oldpoetry.com/ocomment/by/AndrewHide\n\nhttp://oldpoetry.com/opoem/\n\nhttp://palc.sd40.bc.ca/palc/classes/assignments.htm
745450
That was beautiful... it made me cry!  It's a wonderful way to respect all the veterans out there (who deserve our respect more than anyone else) on Remembrance Day and throughout the year.
242440
Look at Bruce Dawe's poetry.  See the poem 'Lifecycle'.  He  writes a lot about the religion in Victoria that is the Australian Football League.
434261
You might find these sites useful for your project:\n\nhttp://www.anzac.govt.nz/\nhttp://www.rsa.org.nz/remem/anzac_intro.html
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I hope this helps you.\nhttp://www.dltk-bible.com/poems.htm
790484
Poem by W.H. Auden\n\nStop all the Clocks.\n\nStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,\nPrevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,\nSilence the pianos and with muffled drum\nBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.\nLet aeroplanes...\n\nFor the rest visit...\nhttp://www.npr.org/programs/death/readings/poetry/aude.html
915986
STAR LEGEND\nThe group of stars known to us as the Pleiades gave food for much thought to the aborigines. There are several legends surrounding these heavenly bodies. One is that the Kamilaroys of the North Coast were at enmity with those of the mountains, and a messenger had been sent from group to group with the message-stick calling a council to discuss measures for the protection of the camps. But the messenger had become enamoured of a young woman of one of the groups he had visited, and his affection was returned. However, she proved to be of the same totem, and a marriage was forbidden. Both the young people were very sad, and the man pleaded with the head-man, but all for nothing. He was advised to return to his own people.\n\nThen, like so many other disappointed lovers, he grew resentful, and at last determined to be revenged, and even then, if possible, to secure the lady of his choice.\n\nSo he went away to the enemies of the group, and conspired with them to show them the "pukkan" by which they might steal unseen to the camps of the coast lands. This track belonged to the priest, and led to a sacred spot where the Great Spirit could be communed with by the priest.\n\nNow, the first thing was to drive the people together, or by some subtle means persuade them to congregate on the one place. This was not an easy thing to do. The people were widely separated during the day, for some were in the bush engaged in hunting there or in obtaining those things from it that were needed to fashion all the implements incidental to camp life, others were still in the camp; many were down on the beach either playing there or searching for food, and the whereabouts of still more were always uncertain, for they were roamers.\n\nMany consultations were held; many plans were formulated; many tricks were explained; but at last it was decided that the messenger return to that group and pretend to have given up all thought of marrying the coveted girl.\n\nWhen he was back he sought the confidence of the headman and soon was received without suspicion. Then one day, having prepared and found a chance, he set fire to the bush. He had laid good plans for he knew just where to find the girl. He had seen to it that she was persuaded to go out of the way to get something that she wanted. It was to the pukkan that led to the sacred place. When the fire raged towards them they ran right on to the holy of holies. The only other people who saw them were women who were led by the guardians of young girls. These guardians were watching the girl wanted by the messenger. Now they were all frightened and they all rushed to the clearing. This invasion by women into such a place was against all commandments, and evil was bound to follow.\n\nHeaps of clay left by the priest were seen, and all commenced to smear themselves with it without knowing how to do it properly. They thought it would surely preserve them.\n\nThey were changed into witchetty grubs. They found holes in a moist and rotten log into which, as is the habit of witchetty grubs, they crept. They were shrunken into very small beings compared with the beings they once were.\n\nThe fire came on and on. People ran in all directions and many were destroyed.\n\nThen by the treachery of the messenger the men of the hills came down and they fell upon the rest and the beach group were nearly all killed. Only the denseness of the smoke prevented more of the mountain people from coming down, and those that did come were glad to hasten away to escape it.\n\nOf those that were not killed there was a priest who went to the sacred spot as soon as he could. He sat on the moist and rotten log and mourned for a long time. Then growing hungry he searched for witchetty grubs, for he knew that the log was a favourite place for them. He found first the woman who was the first one to change. He knew that group to be different from those he had seen before and he suspected witchery. He uttered an incanta
411379
Dear Bearded One,\n\nI wrote you a poem in honor of your passing. Ok, not that you are dead....yet. Ok not that passing the stone will kill you either....most likely. Ok it could, but I doubt it. Unless it's a boulder. In that case, I'm sure surgery would be imminent. And since you are on here answering, I'm thinking no boulders. Ok, so in honor of your passing of the stone, I'm writing you a poem. Here it is: \n\n\nThere once was a man from Idaho,\nWho answered the questions of Jimbo,\nI noticed a few,\nI would laugh right on cue,\nTo the thought of dating a zombo!!\n\nI finally decided to answer,\nThis TMBG romancer,\nThe moon it was full,\nConversation never was dull,\nWith this Kimchee diet enhancer!\n\nBut then he fell ill with a stone,\n"I'm in pain!" he often would moan,\nHe gritted his teeth,\nBraced himself with his feet,\nAnd proceded to pass thru his bone.\n\nNow we all hope that he will be cured,\nHis Yahoo Answer friends are assured,\nHe will return a new man,\nWith a quest and a plan,\nTo convince Yahoo! Amy he's absurd.\n\n\nGet well soon, Bud!