Ode Soldier Poems | Ode Poems About Soldier
These Ode Soldier poems are examples of Ode poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Ode Soldier poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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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...
a flag flown at half mast
a salute remembered that was the last
a star placed behind a glass
a quiet gathering to bury a lad
a moment of silence for those that past
the respect and honor for those
that died in the blast
a bugle playing Taps for what could not be
a flag folded and then passed
then the soldier lowered into the ground
feels that glory from all a round
his body lies at rest
but his spirit receives that which is best
to know that by his countrymen he was blessed
to a soldier that died in combat that is best
Jetblack sunrise ashen, breastbone of the final dark.
My priest must leave to return to his ghostly parish.
Where traitors necks stretch down from moss to swamp.
I met the host of my companions, caught by first dawn’s watchfire dogs, waits for his beloved no more.
Oh, his Clara, I must console before chill sets too deep within bone and lung.
I will guard my deathbed promise to him, for to wipe her fair brow.
To finger her dark ringlets with ever my trigger torn hands.
Considering myself curious to love a West Indies fleshy maid.
The poked corporal would find me, on ghastly red steed to behead twice over for him, my host, and her my temptress Clara.
The belle of run through young soldiers.