In Summer of the year 1942, Nations were fighting, one in blue, And one in red, lead by the best "He's just unstoppable", said the rest. They were lead by Rommel, a fighting leader, Nothing along the lines of a meeter. He took command, and slowly he pushed The British army into a blob of mush. Until one man, arose to command The remains of the British army's demands To stop Rommel and save the day Which was supposed to happen, earlier in May. He organized his defenses, and waited it out But the British had all the doubts That Rommel could win, and be victorious They would all finally be glorious. And so began, the First Battle Of El Alamein, the first rattle North Africa would get, the first of two "Oh no!" said the British with a sigh and a woo. Rommel lost the first, and was angered So he called on Runstedt, the one with hangars Full of planes, able to kill anyone they choose So he could finally deal the British a big, fat bruise. He launched his attack, the second this time, But Montgomery had a plan: he layed out mines That destroyed Rommel's tanks, and forced him to leave Feeling anything, and everything, but grief. Rommel had failed, High Command had decided, They did not want El Alamein recited So they called another general to fight the Brits To deal the enemy one last hit. And Rommel was commanded to defend the coast Without one single, itsy bitsy boast. To defend a future enemy attack And give the attackers one good smack. Here ends the story of El Alamein, with no love, The battle that turned the tide, And forced the Germans to go and hide. Yes, It is not the best quality poem in history, but it's something I just whipped off the top of my head about the turning point in the Battle of Europe.
Why thank you. Verse 5 is kinda messed up, the first two lines are too short. I mainly had to do it that way because I couldn't even start to think of words that rhymed with "Alamein".
In the beginning of the year 1944, The Allies planned to strike at the core Of the Evil Third Reich, on the province of Normandy The very much opposite of a beach, sandy. On the very western shores of Omaha Beach, No American infantry could reach A little bluff called Pointe du Hoc, No one else would dare even mock. So Eisenhower called the Second Rangers, Trained and told to deal with dangers No other man in the army could take, Except maybe Marines of "fake". So on the foggy, cold morning of June 6, The entire Allied force landed, with The Second Rangers, while they landed on the bluff, They learned it was harder than any other stuff. The Rangers fought hard, and climbed the cliffs The climb, however, was very rather stiff. Of the 225 Rangers who came, Only 90 were the fighters who remained. At the end of the fight, the Rangers stood Upon the hopes that they hoped were good. They knew were good, and knew it was The rifle's crackle and the machine gun's buzz. In the end of the day, the Rangers had won No, not with the use of guns But the use of hope, and pride, and strife And no, again, not with a knife. On that morning, of June 6, of 44, The Allies had struck at the core Of the Evil Third Reich, on the province of Normandy The very much opposite of a beach, sandy. America had succeeded, their mission done Yes, with weapons, and yes, with guns But they fought through evil and all the other dangers These are the men, the soldiers, the Rangers.
In Spring of the year 1942, The war had escalated; among new Weapons of war, and destruction, and hate Still advanced for their time, as of late. Less than a year earlier, in winter of 1941, there was precious love In the Pacific Ocean, dotted with islands Not including, of course, lonely Thailand. The islands were many- covered with jungles and beaches, shrouded in myth Few ventured forth, including the many Of the militaries of most, including the plenty. By May of that deadly year, Japan and America had held dear The islands they controlled, and fought over daily The commanders all sat, laughing gaily. By June of the same time, Oh, my lord, they're coming, I'm Running, and you should do the same Before they arrive, and you are tame. America had lost gravely The Navy they had, gone ably And forcibly down, down below To the deadly bottoms of the silo. And so the tattered remains Of the navy, and the brains Of the many commanders, young and old All of them, dangerously bold. The carriers met the enemy's ships Prepared to give them many rips To send them down, down below To the deadly bottoms of the silo. The planes were launched, the battle began The commanders said, "We can, And we will, out to the end of time. Yay, I'm happy, I can rhyme!" The battle was over, quick and painless It seemed to all, quite ageless. Four carriers were lost to the Rising Sun, Only one to the US, their job done. The battle marked the deadly way Bloody, violent, costly, say, "We can do it, and we will Fighting is easy... but up a hill..." Many would follow, deadly and violent, Far later would the Ocean be silent. The battle in 42, midday This is the Battle of Midway. (Probably the WORST poem I've ever written )
From the edge of the border, to the center of the city, the City of Leningrad, there was not much to see. A normal city, in the USSR, away from the center, from afar. However, in the summer of '41, The border was crossed - the battle began However, it was not Japan. It was Germany; and her allies, the Finns Who had fought the Russians a year before But there was none to save them - not even the air corps. The city was encircled - the defenders cut off. But they fought on with resolve, with hope To attempt to reach the end - the rope To end the battle, to drive them back it would take long - two years to end Only then, would the defenders ascend. As the smoke cleared, the count began The count to count the amount lost The lost to end the battle; the cost Was high - over a million But the Soviets pushed on - to victory It was to some, however, contradictory. The battle did none - it just took lives But the lives had not been in vain It was to end the suffering, the pain From the edge of the border, to the center of the city, the City of Leningrad, there is much to see. The sites of the combat, the conflict fought to save a nation - a people on the teetering edge of a steeple. The end of the day saw victory for the good and defeat of the evil of the tactics of war, a life of medieval.
suck?? because of that remark you get a salute! Be encouraged, you have talent. Embrace your gift and know your potential.... "Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential" ~ Winston Churchill Jem
What is the name of that tank? Because I might be able to think of an allied vehicle that could stand up to it. But I don't know if there is a vehicle that can. That tank is sure to pwn. And I'm surprised the Germans lost that place with the most overpowered tank in history. Speaking of which, did it have flamethrowers?
P.1000 "Ratte" supertank, Landkreuzer. The same dual cannons on an Admiral-Hipper class heavy cruiser.
Great poem, better than anything I could ever write! Personally (no offense), I think the Ratte was an absolutely outlandish and absurd idea. The sheer weight of that thing would probably make it sink into the ground. Plus the terrible damage done to roads would mean no car can follow behind it. What about artillery? The top armor is as thick as a Tiger I's front armor; a "Long Tom" barrage would probably devastate it. How would you keep away the infantry? The effect on incoming Shermans and Chafees would probably be profound, but can the battleship guns aim low enough to hit tanks at a realistic range? And if you miss, the rate of fire of the battleship guns would be so slow that you would probably take immense damage from the Shermans and other tanks swarming around you before you can get another shot on them. And no, Snyperboy, the Ratte does not have flamethrowers
I think the same thing, the Ratte was stupid. Hitler plainly thought the bigger, the better. WRONG. Anyway... thanks for the compliment!
Ahh, it takes a tremendous amount of guts to post your own creative work, especially poetry, which turns cheesy fast. However, this is far from cheesy. Great job!
When a man walked up to me And asked me my name, I said, "Dave Hutchinson", without any shame. He looked at my arm, then my chest and my head, And he said, "Why, where've you been?" And I said, "With the dead." I looked back, long before the conversation had taken place And I saw what they call, my old "home base". I remember seeing the thing, a large, square truck that in order for me to drive I had to have much luck. It was called a tank A deadly war machine It would become so hot I would use a canteen. It was a truck, with treads and a powerful gun and they weighed heavy; much more than a ton. I remember climbing in on that fateful day and the commander said, "Let's go, ok?" And so we moved out to meet the others and to duel to the death With our own brothers. After hours of fighting, the smoke finally settled, and upon seeing the damage, my commander was nettled. Ten days later, it happened again We met the enemy on the fields, only numbered at ten. The thunder of our cannon and the flash of fire and we raced to the top of the enemy's spire The sweat came down to the bottom of my face making their way to my shirt a wild chase. I came back to real and I looked at the man He said, "Are you okay?" I replied, "I am." He looked at me longer, he smiled and walked away, And I sat there alone, alone with my pray.
