Keep Moving Forward

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic

My first attempt at poetry.

Submitted: March 08, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2018



Keep Moving Forward

We stood, a rabble, in the line,

Hundreds of us all causing a din.

We shuffled closer to the sign-up office,

Full of hope and desire as one more got accepted in.

We all kept moving forward.


What is your name and date of birth?

Home address and next of kin?

What was it that killed your father?

You’ve passed the physical. Sign here, you’re in!

You may now move on forward.


Hugging your parents a long goodbye,

Telling mother not to cry.

Ruffling the hair of your little brother,

Telling them all, your best you will try.

Towards the bus, you move forward.


Getting off the bus for basic training,

Chased by the drill sergeant, already feeling dread.

“You pitiful maggot, you’re this and you’re that.”

“Now pick up that bag and go find your bed!”

To my barracks, I moved forward.


Brutal physical training,

Running day and night through mud and trees.

The weight of the bergen an increasing burden,

Wanting to stop but ignoring my brain’s please.

To pass, I had to keep moving forward.


Repeatedly loading and cocking and firing,

Rifle training was actually fun.

Practice makes perfect, we kept being told,

This is the best way to kill the Hun.

Nearly ready, keep moving forward.


Two years of training finally complete,

Time for us all to celebrate!

With a beer or two before we are posted,

To fight the evil whom the war was hosted.

Of this, my thoughts kept moving forward.


Early morning wake up call,

Told to assemble within the hall.

To the front we’re all being sent,

So to gather our things, we all went.

For one last time, to my cot, I moved forward.


So here we sat with in the trench,

What we would give for a chair or a bench.

Instead just mud and blood and dirt,

And medics evacuating the hurt.

Those brave medics, always moving forward.


The two minute whistle, from a distance, was blown,

What was over the top? Nobody could have known.

Anticipation building at the base of the ladder,

And losing control of one’s own bladder.

All this for King and Country, keep moving forward.



The whistle was blown and up we climbed,

Leaving the trench and it’s stories behind.

With nothing in my head but those three words,

Keep moving forwards.

I kept moving forward.

© Copyright 2020 Craig Arnold. All rights reserved.

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