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Death Soldier Poems | Death Poems About Soldier

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Details | Rhyme | |

My Little Soldier Boy

Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.

You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.

You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said, 
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!

Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.

Author Note:  This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983.  I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children, 
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually 
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life  on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters") 

I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but 
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not 
MY Son!"  Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school.  And I'm still writing my poems today. 


Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |


I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.

“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.

I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.

The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”

I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.

I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.

I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.

It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.

That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier. 

Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

The Crosses of Night

Rising before me, are the graves,.. like the stars Embracing the light, while reflecting the moon The fields, vast and silent, ... never ending, the valiant Of those who had fallen, never knowing how far Some names forgotten, and some never known Crosses that grow from the wet grass below me I have lost count, as my eyes seek horizons Reflecting on lives of the soldiers, unknown Deeply I'm falling without knowing how far Into the depths of the fields that have drawn me Into reflection and into the questions Tossed into the sky, without answers to why My eyes can't believe all the sadness before me I have lost count and my heart seeks horizons Reflecting the reason, seeking answers, unknown
_________________________________________ 7/15/15

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |


Lonely I was when I stood staring at the sky
Had a gun in my hand, was too afraid to cry
Fought bitter battles and never lived to tell
How at the altar of freedom, my body fell

My soul searches for reasons as to why I died
Did I save my people, had I tried?
Do they remember me, my deeds, my name
Are they proud of me or did I bring them shame

My battered body stood testimony to my fate
My heart had stopped in a battle brought about by hate
I had screamed in pain, and shivered with fright
But before I died, I did put up a fight

Remember me, my beloved country
It was I, my men, who brought you victory
I fought to the last bullet in my gun
I was a soldier, I was your son

Copyright © Manoj Kumar | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain | |

Soldier Boy

Once there was a soldier boy,
young and brave and smart.
He had some questions bugging him,
they tore his brain apart.

He went along to ask his friends-
''Why there can't be peace?''
They just laughed into his face,
''Let us tell you what peace means:

';Peace means love, peace means hope
peace means painless, fearless trust.
There's no love, there's no hope,
all the fearless lay in dust.''

He went along to ask the trees,
the plants and flowers too.
Then they all replied to him
''Answers we have few:

People kill themselves and us,
they cut us up for fire.
And with the fire that they cut
the tension becomes higher.''

Soldier boy then went to war,
questions still in mind.
He kept on searching in the field,
for answers he can't find.

He walked up to the enemy,
beat starts to increase.
''Tell me, good man, tell me please 
why there can't be peace?''

The man pointed his gun to him,
aiming to his heart.
''I'm sorry, young man,'', then he said
''I really hate this part.''


Once there was a soldier boy,
young and smart and brave.
He had some questions bugging him,
they took him to his grave.

Copyright © spring goodman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

A soldier cries

He's used to war, he fights real hard,
He's a soldier, he's battle scarred.
The enemy is weak, there is nothing to fear,
His compassion is gone, he has no tears.

He was taught well, was taught how to kill,
He's done it so much, it's lost it's thrill.
He no longer feels bad, when the enemy dies,
Tears don't come any more to his tired eyes.

In the beginning it was against his will,
But he soon broke down, and got used to kill.
Never thinking that his foe, was also just a man,
Like him with a family, doing the best he can.

He cannot have feelings, for anyone,
But then, for a moment, he thinks of his son.
He wants to go home, but it's not time yet,
So he goes back to a war, that he wants to forget.

Next day on the beach, on his tour of duty,
Lies a child's body, on the coast of Turkey.
He cannot believe what he sees with his own eyes,
A cute little boy, with no signs of life.

Lying face down, right there on the sand,
He picks him up, with his big strong hands.
And when he saw that there was no hope,
The soldier realized he could not cope.

He shuddered deeply...letting out a sigh,
And that's when...the soldier cried.

Now the whole world mourns that little boy,
Many children elsewhere, receive another toy.
Yes, people stand by, while these refugees die,
Some see the news and say, please...pass the pie.

John Derek Hamilton   September 04,2015

Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Field of Flowers and Stones

Lasting memories haunt a tearful mind
How distant the dreams that no one now owns
Etched marble, another name to remind
Lay in silent fields of flowers and stones

To search for days that will never be
and unearth youthful years that quickly passed
To stand in a field where soldiers are free
and know their torment is over at last

Eyes flow freely at a stone to behold
Brushing her hand across a marble name
Her fingers tremble for a son she can't hold
and years she will live with pain she will claim

Handed a flag that eight soldiers did fold
Knowing that her son will never grow old

Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

They Call

Moans echo across the lands
from the souls who are lost
drifting, searching, seeking 
forever doomed to exile.

Some brought down in their prime
foully murdered by sharpened steel
plunged into them with hatred.
Or maybe by plain greed.

Soldiers killed in needless wars
all for the rape of the innocent.
Governments hungry for more
oil, gold and other things.

Yes too, the souls of creatures
many now extinct voice their
sorrow with despairing moans.
That echo into our minds and hearts.

Mingling together they strike fear
that judders in our very being.
As we huddle in our beds shivering
knowing it is us who caused this damage 

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Abecedarian | |

44 Drops of Blood

by Coui Kim MinSu JA

Silence has consumed my lonesome soul
Beneath the sheets of my darkest fall
I broke my armor, my helmet and my sword
I lost the battle after I gave my all.

These hostile MOROns speak the language of war
Treachery is their dialect, how nasty they are!
They house the villains, they feed the crooks
Yet they always call their god, every time they shoot.

I lost my sight though not am I blind,
Revenge is the light, the only light i find
My wrath and my curse are constantly roaring
Within my heart I can no longer contain.

With these 44 drops of blood I solemnly swear
Doom are these wicked, for gone are my fears
Now, I raise this peaceful banner and flip it up RED
Cause I thirst and hunger for all of their HEADS.

Copyright © Jasper Abcede | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

A Soldier Coming Home

He received the call in the middle of the night,
be to work by sunrise, you'll be taking a flight.
Go to a land where freedom will rise,
men will stand proud and wipe tears from their eyes.
Suicide bombers for a man who controlled,
brutality to the people, dignity he had stole.
The soldier would travel to a far distant land,
where oil was vass and towns made on sand.
He fought for his country, he life sealed with fate,
his family remembers  the call on this date.
It was warm in Sepember, he was out on patrol,
explosives were used and would  soon take its toll.
He fought the good fight for freedom was sought,
much food and some water, America brought.
But he would come home boxed with a flag draped on top,
violence was something that he tried to stop.
He left earth the hero, he had fought with much pride,
Joined Jesus in heaven, and walked at his side.

Copyright © Kimberly Ghadeer | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme | |

The Dying Game

The Dying Game 

Joe Dougherty

Fleeting images in the fading light
A whispered voice… "it will be all right"
Evening draws and the shadows blend
Another day's fighting has come to an end

Tensions ease around the fire's light 
Brings a calming peace to the gathering night
Cooling embers in the waning flames
Blissful slumber… it's time out in the game

Thoughts of glory now fade away
When brother vs. brother we did play
They sent the young to pay this debt
Of winless victories and blameless regret

Disparaging chiefs of the burial mounds
Spilt our blood upon this ground
For reasons, not ours to know 
They write off, like a bad floorshow

The old soldiers they gather round
Laying wreaths on hallowed ground
Declare the price as freedom's due
Now simply words that don't ring true

NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game
Now broken souls as home they go
To places they no longer know

The cost they paid in this day's fight
Leave fewer faces in the fire's light
Tear stained eyes that look away
No greater debts could they pay
This is more than I bargained for
Shut-up kid, you're in the war
NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game


Copyright © Joseph Dougherty | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |


Gail Doyle Contest Name Writing A Heartfelt Poem To A Soldier Soldier I am proud you went to war, to fight those evil ones, May God protect you keep you safe, Till homeward bound you come. May you sidestep death and slaughter, Return yet to your mum, And find love as you oughta, With the sound of battle done, So changed so thrust to manhood, To be the serious one, Sadness dims the dark of night, Good friends, where death has come..

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Bullied to Sleep

My own life
Buried 6 feet under
Under the humiliation 
Under the laughter
Under the teasing
Under the thought that I am less of a person
That I am less of person
That I should be less of me
My casket is a broken cocoon 
My mind finally at peace 
My parents siblings and family all stand to there feet
The gospel is spoken 
I'm lifted up to heaven
When I've awoken 
I'm just back in hell again

Copyright © Joi Jones | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:

Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.

He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.

After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.

In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.

Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.

He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.

Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.

On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.

Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.

His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.

In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.

On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:

‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’

Mahlangu died for a cause!


The Struggle Continues…

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Chris Kyle the Great Sniper

Before you read this poem, I would like to invite you in reading about the great American sniper hero. I am also dedicating this to the fallen sniper because he is a true Patriotic Hero. Thank you.

Chris Kyle was and still is loved by many, this to be true I say
I always believe him to be, a great sniper to this undying day.
Why must things happen to people, that are always so kind
Life would be better keeping some, alive alongside mankind.

Why don’t I tell you a story, about this very kind honest fellow
He was and is an U.S. Navy Seal, but along that chill and mellow.
The most lethal sniper known of, in American military history
With a very high percentage confirmed kills, quite the victory.

At the young age of eight, his father taught him how to shoot
A great father teaching a son, instead of giving him the boot.
A bronco rider for the rodeo, sadly gave it up for a serious injury
It was to his arm although he still lived, with very great dignity.

Being a great sniper had an effect, putting souls to their bed
Eventually somewhat famous, an increasing bounty upon his head.
Undoubtedly dubbed the “Devil of Ramadi”, by non-other than Iraqi
An increasing bounty shot twice, but his body and will still intact.

After a while serving his country, he retired heading home graciously
Taking back some long spent  time, spending it with his family.
Chris Kyle a loved husband, a friend to many and a beloved son
His homeland now saddened, for America has lost a patriotic one.

A great warrior indeed, in my opinion our greatest honorable hero
He put his life on the line, instead of becoming the common zero.
The greatest treasure of all, came from within himself to prove
That all humans aren’t wrongful, but that we all can improve.

Copyright © Dalton A. J. Hunkler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epitaph | |

The Unknown Soldier

I stand at your grave.
I do not know your name.
I know not where you are from.
Where you fought,
nor where you died.

The horrors and pain you suffered,
were not in vain.
The death and destruction brought you pain.

I weep at your grave,
for the life you gave.
I weep for the Mother,
that gave you that life.

I kneel before your grave.
I bow my head in gratitude to you,
The Unknown Soldier.
Forever Remembered.

Copyright © Gypsyof Essence | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…

Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |


brave fallen soldiers   
sacrificing young men's blood
red poppies whither 

Copyright © Betty Bateson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

An Amulet of Peace

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
An AR16 rifle in my hands….
Seemed like such a paradox,
In the paddies and jungles of Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
A man’s life was in my hands….
That life was not only mine,
While trying to survive in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
Hoping for guidance by God’s hand….
Ignore our sin, keep us alive and safe,
While fighting in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
My duffel bag in my hand….
After 13 months, I was going home,
No more to fight in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
An Honorable Discharge in my hand….
Only to be spat upon, called ‘baby killer’,
By ‘peaceniks’ against the war in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace no longer hung ‘round my neck,
The challenge of a new life was at hand….
Found love, happiness and some success,
And tried not to think of Vietnam.

Again, that same amulet of peace hangs ‘round my neck;
And I hope my friends all understand….
I want our courageous young men and women
Out of Iraq and Afghanistan.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Limerick | |

Anzac Day

It's Anzac Day today
Or lads were sent away
To fight a war
And what the hell for
Because they had to pay

Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


I’m here, in this terror.
 Blood, blood puddles everywhere
like after a demonic storm of rain, but instead it’s human red liquid .
leaking and escaping.  
More of it appears
at each second .
Tick, splat. Tock splat 
two more bodies morphed into
devastating dead corpses floating in scarlet lakes. 
Lives lost; heartless killing!

 It could have been me. 
Boom! Went the exploding grenade ... I couldhave been dead, but I’m still here. Around me soldiers running away from thestomp of guns like human ants marching rapidly from their hunter, without a plan and without the guarantee of survival. 
Millions of bullets shooting in
every direction, I cannot even detect from which direction they are coming
Murdering happens here because of forced hatred, 
which is inhumane... whoever
started the chapter of this horrific and barbaric dystopian novel should be ashamed.
On my side – dead intimidating bodies of my friends that I will never see
talking again- that have risked their lives for this country. I respect them.
 Ilooked at my blood covered hands; my blood is still within me. But for how much
longer? Some nearly dead people gasping for help, wishing to be at home right


Remembering the smell of freshly baked delicious bread that
was placed on the table every morning. My little daughter running happily down the
stairs ready for school, and my gentleman-like elder son always pulling the
chair out for her. My wife always had everything so well managed I just don’t
know how she did it, but I love her she is the best thing in my life. We all sat
with smiles on our faces and the sun peeking in on us happily shines on our
tired faces. Optimism flowing from all of our souls except mine. They all were prepared
to start the new day. My children for school and my wife for work and to cook
something ambrosial for us to eat at dinner. 
She would have put a lot of work in to her cooking, but yet I still
complained, I yelled at my children and never had time for them as I was so self-centred.
I hurt their feelings forgetting to go to their school plays, I been so
horrible-definitely not the kind of dad they would deserve... Can they ever
forgive me? I hope I get another chance, show them a different life, they
should be able to depend on me –most importantly, they should be able to trust
me. I hope it’s not too late to show that I have learned, from my mistakes. I
want to praise them as they deserve.


Holding back
tears full of regret, my morals are confused and my mind is apprehensive. Will
I ever see my family again? I am going insane. Now I wish I stayed home, but it
would seem like I’m giving up, after all this did teach me a valuable lesson in
life .This war is sickening to the stomach filled with brutality and ghastly
behaviour. Cold blooded, temper less and outrageous; actions. 

Pain –
everyone is feeling pain that is unimaginable. Here braveness and risking play
a very important role… If no risky decisions were taken we all would probably be
dead by now. I see people crying, young soldiers crying like babies as they
weren’t aware of the level of danger that was waiting for them. Now they just
want to believe it is just a dream. Factually speaking, all what is happening
is a test of self will and goodness. On how you will behave towards others in
life threatening circumstances. Will you be into act of selfishness?  


The Loudness is outrageous, shoot! Bam! Boom! Pam! Shut in
from every viewpoint ... My orientation is fading- I’m unable to concentrate incapable
of stabilizing my thoughts; my heart is pounding five times more rapid than its
usual beat. I have no idea where to secrete; none of what others examine seems
to work. Where’s my group? 

Maybe they left me behind. I have to take every possibility
into consideration; but teamwork is important here as it’s leaning on reliability
and forgiveness. Life is the most precious thing you can ever have. We all have
a life which is on same tier level. But, killing a life just shouldn’t happen.  We all will die one day its natural .You cannot
escape unpredictable death. No matter how much you would want life to pause it
won’t- for anybody. I’m sick and tired of this place I will get out of here
alive... I think, I have to do it for my family.

My family that I long to back home, I know I will adore
every single second spend with them. I just pray I return safe and sound and
can cuddle my wife again...

Copyright © Rozalia Polnik | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Welcome Home

My precious son, welcome home
Let me hold you, embrace you, for you are not alone
My how you’ve changed, what battle has done
From serving your country, my soldier son

Your shoulders are broader, your face is like stone
Your hands are all battered, ankles worn to bone
You’ve shed lots of blood, and flood many tears
For you are a man, who’s truly faced fears

You’ve done the unthinkable, and have taken a life
And prayed for the courage, to do it in strife
You’ve lost many brothers, in battle abroad
And know that they rest, in a place next to God

I know who you are, because Im the same man
Now sit back and listen, while I hold your hand
I’ll tell you a tale, of freedom and pride
For I am God’s son, like you I have died

You see I’ve been a soldier, since the beginning of time
Fighting for good, my mission divine
I’ve died for Gods children, which you too have done
Your master is thankful, my soldier son

You were not blessed, with riches or gold
But with gifts much greater, than can ever be sold
You see god made you, with one mission in mind
To protect his creation, your mission divine

I know you have scars, that run deep inside
That man cannot see, but from me they can’t hide
Now hand me those burdens, in me you confide
Lay them at my feet, I’ll wear them with pride

Your mission is over, so lets take you home
To meet our great father, the man on the throne
He loves you so much, for what you have done
I welcome you home, my soldier son

Rhett Connolly, Author>

Copyright © rhett connolly | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

If Old Men Fought

An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war

A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying

Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
forever more,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
families mourn

A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
minimal risk,
long life, his number one ambition

As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed

The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late

Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right

Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right

Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ode | |

For Thomas

I'm walking out into the gorgeous summer day
and I feel nothing at all;
not the warmth of the sun,
the melodies of songbirds,
nor the cars driving by my street
who haven't the slightest clue of what just transpired
a mere twenty minutes ago.
Yeah, since the news came to me
not one lighthearted thought comes to mind.

I'm in the back of the store, doing dishes to pass the time
and I can't help but wander if anyone notices
the blooming roses on my cheeks.
They'd probably say something encouraging like
"Way to attack those dishes!".
Believe me it's not for efficiency's sake,
I'm MAD, and it just so happens to bring emphasis
to the saying "Use a little elbow grease".
Anymore and I might just a punch a hole through the plastic...

Yeah, since the news came to me
things became way too real.
I no longer felt like radiation that refuses to leave the atmosphere.
No I felt much more akin to a ticking time bomb
in the middle of the Sahara desert.
I could die at anytime
and it wouldn't matter what I was doing:
Sitting on the sofa, devouring a bag of Lays
and then passing out on salt overdose,
Or walking my dog because the weather was nice,
and then crossing paths with a baseball sized meteorite.
I try to stick to the bright side of things,
but the fact remains you died too soon, Tom.
I wonder what flashed through you head
just seconds before driving over that IED.
In a selfish way I'd like to think you thought of me
in those final moments, but I know that's silly.
If I was a piece in your day-to-day life
you would need a microscope
to even notice I was there at all.

As I sit here writing this
I recall the time we watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre,
on Halloween night in the old Stonehouse.
We thought that was gory then,
but it's most likely child's play to the stuff
you must have seen in the last three years.
The saddest thing of all for me
is something irrefutably petty,
but it comes to mind nonetheless.
You paid for my movie ticket
when we went and saw The Dark Knight.
I remember how sure and confident I was when I beamed
"I'll pay you back for this. Next time I see you!".
Well that ship has long since sailed.
Perhaps someday we'll meet again, mate,
but for now it's just a waiting game.
And today that feels like the game where nobody wins
it's just something we play...

NOTE: Two days ago I found out a good friend of mine died in Afghanistan. He was a soldier, and barely four years older than me...

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Suicide Soldier

They sent him to serve without regarding his life
Voting for redemption instead of his kid and wife
He treads within mazes and shadows of a lost city
Those willing to die to save their family dignity
Fighting back against hateful ignorances believed
What anyone will gain is only how it is perceived

Copyright © ... Gigno | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Prayer For A Dying Soldier

Prayer For A Dying Soldier 

Rest now my brother;
In a field of peace.
Your job is finished;
You are released.

The sacrifice you gave;
was a noble gift.
At ease my brother;
It is the end of your shift.

Take comfort brother;
In a job well done.
May your journey be blessed;
To the lands beyond the sun.

Like a warrior;
You return home with respect.
You gave your life;
For those you protect.

My gratitude for you;
For putting your life on the line.
To never be forgotten;
By those you leave behind.

Darlene Doll Smith

Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

A Soldier's Elegy

A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
tranquility gurgles 
through silent valleys
over mountains
around the earth
through the wind

The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
adrenaline overrules
their ambient warning

Gust to gust each fades 
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts

The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird

Two brittle forms 
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
and protects 
what can never be touched
divine oblivion 
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt 
six feet deep.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

What Happened

As you ended our video call,
You suited up,
Just another day in that god forsaken place,
As soon as you stepped off the plane it felt like being in an oven.
But hey,
What did you expect.
The boys and you all load up into the Humvee and take off with the rest of the Caravan.
Just another day.
Just another day…
There wasn’t supposed to be an explosion.
There weren’t supposed to be screams.
There wasn’t supposed to be any blood shed.
It was supposed to be just another day.
But all of that did happen.
And you were taken away from me and Mom and Dad and our little sister,
In an instant.
You were supposed to come home.
We were supposed to celebrate your birthday together,
Our sister baked you a cake for when you came home.
But… now you can’t,
And you won’t,
Ever again.
Because you’re gone.
And you can’t ever come back.
But know that we love you,
Know that I love you,
Know that I loved you, My Brother.
Most Importantly know that we miss you,
every waking moment.
Because you’re gone,
And we’ll never see you again.
Did I tell you Mom and Dad still pay your phone bill?
They pay,
So that we can hear your voice on your voicemail recording when we miss you.
I call,

Copyright © Katelyn Roussell | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

Fast FOOD care



And Boy you Best Stay buckled in
or so help me.

And Girl you Best Make him
or so help me

does my saint-y mama 
want to die before me.

does my useless papa 
just want my useless money.

Copyright © or dallas | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku | |


triskele* at half mast full military honours no birdsong is heard Jan Allison 17th July 2015 Country – Isle of Man (* pronounced tris –kel 2 syllables) 5,7,5 SYLLABLES CHECKED The triskele symbol (as found on the Manx flag) is very characteristic of the three interlocked and conjoined spirals found in Celtic art throughout Celtic north western Europe Contest:- You Country’s Flag - Skat

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015