Military Poems | Examples of Military Poetry

Army BRAT’S Always ‘Wanna’ Fly High The tradition necessitates that as a child born unto military parents Called by the beloved acronym Born Raised and Trained (BRAT’S) Be always on the spotlight as they augment and compliment The guys in uniform ever shifting from one place to another Military BRAT’S never quite settle born and raised as sojourners Born of a...

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Border surveillance female scouts their warnings unheeded about an attack, imminent, from Gazan Hamasniks IDF superiors pooh-poohed the risks Prime Minister Netanyahu ignored their reports ...

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whistles blare gun powder in the air lead pours overhead I can't wait to feel my bed I line up my rifle breathe and squeeze my orders are to strife I run empty so I freeze the quit nights are haunted this conflict was unwanted one more tally added; I can't mask it make sure they spell it right on my casket...

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Please tell me it’s not true In supporting the Red white and blue That not a lot of women are Honorable And barely any women are notable So to the far few and in between I hope your life will shine and glean Where we may not be many, but just a few Who go combat hatred people spew For...

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FEELING SO BLESSED MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND AND I CELEBRATING OUR MARRIAGE 9 YEARS OF WEDDED BLISS JULY 8TH 2016 THE TRUE BLESSINGS WITHIN ALL THE HARD WORK VOLUNTEERING LONG BEFORE THE MARRIAGE 2015 INSEPARABLE COUPLE DIE HARD VOLUNTEERING SPENDING OUR ENGAGEMENT SUPPORTING HELPING OTHERS THIS WAS VERY REWARDING GIVING BACK TO THE COMMUNITY ACTUALLY BEING...

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Oh Liza, dear Liza. My plane’s going down. I’m somewhere over the Pacific, but there's nobody around. Nobody to watch as this hunk of metal falls No one to weep as these blaring alarms stall. Dear Liza, my Liza. Now I’m going down. It’s not valiant or brave like you hear of in town. There was no gunfire, I’m just...

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War isn’t new. Our world has been bleeding for centuries, crimson rivers running beneath the cities we call beautiful, masked by glass towers and neon lights. They build malls on buried bones, schools on scorched earth, paved roads across old battlefields where children once fell. This isn’t a fresh wound—it’s a festering one, hidden beneath...

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The wealth of nations was once rooted In toil, in grain, in honest trade. But now—behold the phantom coin, A paper god by empire made. No longer tethered to gold or grace, It floats on faith, or rather fear. A dollar, born of ink and bluff, Commands the world to bend and kneel. This is not free exchange, But a theft dressed in robes...

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O Confederation of the West— You were not born to conquer shadows, But to outlive them. Power is not noise, It is silence understood by all. You fear the bear in the east, But he was your brother once— Did you not share a winter once in Berlin’s broken breath? Yet now, You sharpen your swords Where olive branches once bloomed. He holds gas, grain, and...

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I’m proud to serve, that’s true as hell, But sometimes I wonder why we’re here to rebel— Not against the mission, not against the fight, But the brass and the game that fogs up the right. They say it’s a brotherhood, shoulder to shoulder, But I see ‘em slicked up, gettin' rank over the bolder. The ones who dodge grime, fresh-pressed...

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You practice and you train, you wrack your damn brain, you push through the pain, it still goes sideways. You’re up before dawn, give it guts and brawn, till the last ounce is gone, it still goes sideways. You have all the tools, and follow regs and rules, like all the other fools, it still goes sideways. You do it all right, keep it in the fight, hustling day and night, it still...

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When missiles fly The Mullahs lie They bide their time To turn the tide Their constant bluster Now short of luster For why we ask No God sent task To build a bomb With feigned aplomb Their word to spread Among the dead They have their place To find God's grace Not trample lives Like stinging hives Fear and temerity No road to prosperity But that's what they seek Control of the meek A proud...

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"After the March" Almost eight years, the flags have flown, A soldier's wife, yet so alone. Eight years of heartache, silent cries, Of wiping tears and telling lies Like "I'm okay," when I was breaking, Like "We’re fine," though barely making. Stress clung tight like second skin, While I held the outside in. Weight I carried on my soul, Filling both the mom and dad...

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The parade is long and patriotic, with glottic marching band~ with pipe, with drum, we demand more young blood from our heartland....

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No King’s! Day of defiance ...

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