Soldier Personification Poems | Personification Poems About Soldier
These Soldier Personification poems are examples of Personification poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Soldier Personification poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
He appear to be a ladd of maybe 9 yrs. old. It's Friday, as our troop's prepared to move
out unto enemy territory, and then KABOOM!!...he becomes a suicide bomber. WOW! face-
less at such a young age. Now as I gather my comrade's body parts (as well as my thou-
ght's) to myself I say, "these people's belong in a cage". Pain in Irag, will it ever end, here
children's are taught too kill again & again. Our Boy'zz in misery, misery all around us, the
stinch of death is everywhere. Their fearless leader leads no more. Soon he's capture, "one
would think, finally!! and now answer's of life can be restore, but sadly there's only more
bloodshed here in Irag. And a salacious cloud still hoovers above our heads as the dead
bodie's continue's to rise, another soldier get sent home and familie's shall not be able to
stop the flow of tear's pouring from their eye's. (faceless at such a young age)
Our Boy's and Gal's in misery - here in a country, were there is no love, "A faceless enemy",
we continue to fight. Our Congressmen and Senator's vote to keep this sinceles war going,
"for our freedom", lying to themselve's and to the American people's. "For our Freedom",
"I don't understand-how can freedom be justified with a bullet and a gun". How can Freedom
be (?) when every Saturday you'll be burying your daughter or your son. Someday soon
we do get to go home, from here to a faceless nation. As the dead bodie's continue to rise,
and before the break of dawn starts another day. Your lil 9 year old goes outside to play.
In this land of confusion lil boy's also goes outside, freedom for him is to suicidily kill the
enemy-each and every morning in the name of Allah his mother tells him. So 10 U.S. sold-
ier's live's are gone, more are on the way. Remember their President is dead and gone
while our wants a "Celebration".
P.S.... This particular poem came to me in a dream, as in a dream I was there (in Irag)
holding this soldier who had been shot, and he relate's this particular
poem for me to write:
War is suffocating.
You see them run through a line of fire.
You wonder will they survive and then, you see others die before your eyes.
You stand and shout to someone familiar but no response came.
Therefore, vehemently you ran to not bleed again.
Would you make it out of this alive or would you die trying?
You would not remember either, when the life is taken from your eyes.
Stay positive! Stay alive…
User Name: Verlena
Pseudonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: War (Epic)
For generations I slept.
My violent ever churning home I could accept.
Then the churning itself ceased.
The home went dark.
The home went cold.
Then the clanging began.
Louder the noise grew.
A foreign brightness leaked into my view.
And I knew.
It was an invasion.
They came with picks and shovels.
They took us from our protective embraces.
Tortured I was in heat and fire.
My form resembled nothing familiar to me.
What I once was, I was no more.
Still I would not be released.
I heard the drums.
Drums from a distant source,
As I was carried elsewhere,
Allowed was I, for now,
To travel with my old friends,
also tortured and mutilated.
Their forms exactly like mine.
Suddenly our travels ceased.
The drums became louder.
The talking of foreign mouths suffocated my ears.
I was taken away from my comrades.
I would likely never see them again.
The drums continued.
Only now I was not so callously thrown aside.
Cared for was I, by my new master.
I felt my wits sharpened.
My skin shined.
The drums stopped.
I do not know for how long.
Still, in the possession of my new master;
I was sharp.
I felt proud despite my torment.
Then the drums started again.
My master charged with anger.
His hatred became mine.
With my help he slew his own kind.
No longer did my skin shine.
It was covered in a sickly crimson hue.
With every blow I landed I felt my sharpness fade.
Then suddenly my master released me.
I tumbled to the dirt.
The drums were distant.
The screams were fading.
I faded out of mind.
Dirt overtook me.
I found myself in a new shelter.
Dark as the first home, before the invasion,
My old master was beside me,
But even he too succumbed to the time that barely aged me.
I was taken from my old home.
Forced to fight another man’s war,
Only to be left alone once more.