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Age Soldier Poems | Age Poems About Soldier

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Details | Rhyme | |

MEN OF HONOR



Today the bite of frost nibbles
On icy dusk and rain-spun grass
When prayers glide of nighttime down,
As battle  strikes your whispers yield
Through ambushed maze drilling around.
Yet heartbeats vow for honor, true
Enduring nights…freedom pursued.

Kismet of hope is in the air
While  we all feel your longing thoughts 
Miles away…sweet tidings declare
Your dreams fluttering in chilled fall
About scenes of love and dear home’s care.
The rising star a grain of gold
In moments brave soldiers behold.

Then victory blazes in red
Matching the robin as it sings
From soar of peace…from soar of might
A courage blessed through godly will
Heroes return as breaths alight.
The autumn lays her colors by
As wishes crown your promised sky.




Mystic Rose's Write To Our Heroes Contest
~ dedicated to all soldiers
and my father who fought in the war~
by nette onclaud



Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Memories

Forgotten Memories

seconds, minutes, hours and days
these pass to most in uneventful ways
s'o's' is a common phrase
yet to some times pass in torment and haze

a sound, a smell, a sight we glean
can nudge the mind to places more mean
places and times long ago pushed away
visit the mind with a will to stay

we know it is troubling and a not wanted visit
but the taste is bitter or sweet, which is it
some say be strong and pass it away
once the claws are set they want to stay

deep in the mind the battle is fierce
your heart, your soul, the claws will pierce
seconds are minutes, minutes are hours
hours are days as life darkens and sours
                         
not battles rage or depth of sea
no limits set for him or me
for circumstances vary of tragedy and pain
no one can limit  loss and gain
                                  
we must reach inside and pull ourselves free
not to live as him but to live as me


Robert Gene Stoner Jr  ©
10/30/14



Details | Rhyme | |

our boys

They fought for a country, they fought for peace
But in 2012 the gunfire still does not cease
Being no more than a young lad
To sign up to fight they did so and was glad
No fear of what may come, no fear of the unknown
But some feared that dreaded knock at home
They  put down their life, a battle they had to endure
They gave their life for me when they went to war
No time to be selfish for a task was at hand
They done their best to defend our land
I don't think I could be as brave as they are
They took up the role, not for the pound, cent or dollar
For queen and country, for the sake of mankind
They said goodbye to their loved ones and left them behind
All we have now are poppies and many unmarked graves
Many are the names and many have been saved
Who knows what would be if they didn't take up the fight
Yet still in Iran there's gunfire at night
A war is ongoing and will it ever end
How many more troops are we going to send
We have some of our 'boys' who think they are men
But to fight for their country they'd think again
I cannot repay you for your act of kindness shown
Goodnight, God bless until you return home


Details | Free verse | |

The Center's Footsteps

Thoust message rings,
But it is a wretched beauty.
Sew up thine tongue;
It forks in many directions,
Ensnaring, passing through the centers,
Weaving a thread gleaming, deceivingly white,
Yet drenched in the black goo,
The sticky gobs of our source, our blood.
Cast aside thine needle,
Let time make it blunt.
Wallow in thine sorrow,
But only for a moment.
Up, up with you!
The sticky gobs cannot protect thee.
See me, Hear me.
For I see thee...
Thou hast split thine tongue
To hide, to forget.
Thine forked words, black to all, clear to me.
Go on, go ahead,
Walk through its enveloping black.
And when you cannot run,
Crawl.
And when you can’t do that anymore, 
Find someone to carry you.
Thou art strong!
Let thine center give you new feet!
Yet,
If even thine center falls weary,
I shalt be thine legs.
I shalt carry you, my friend.


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!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




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


Details | Rhyme | |

Lewis And Clark

They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.

Down the Missouri they traveled, 
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end. 



©2013 Honestly JT


Details | Rhyme | |

The Masters

h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that

determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,


Details | Romanticism | |

My Persian Queen

From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.

Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.

O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.

And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?

You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.

My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.

Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.

Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.

My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.

Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.

It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.


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


Details | Light Poetry | |

WOMEN IN COMBAT

WOMEN IN COMBAT

By Leonard Kleeman

Women in real combat, can that really be?
The news article had a great big headline.
It stated that when outdoors, women can't pee.
And, even if it's true, that's no business 
of mine.

The Pentagon will now rescind its combat ban.
Which means all the danger doesn't belong 
just to a man.
But there are many opponents who say
that women are too weak to have it 
that way.

That's very funny 'cause I never thought women 
to be weak.
Many gals that I know are stronger than some men.
It matters not how big they are or what kind 
of physique;  
All the strength that women have or need is 
within them.

To pee outside is not the thing they need
 neither is skipping showers or pee in the wild.
They just need their brothers and sisters in arms 
to cover their backs and not think of their charms,
and to accept them in combat and not think they're mild.

They are brave and courageous if you think 
what they do.
They can give birth to babies and then 
help you too. 
They have strength in their hearts and smarts 
in their head.
And if you get bad they'll beat you instead.
 
Where women have fought before
During peace and mostly at war,
They have fought well and won for their side
and had no reason for anything to hide.

So they can pee outside or pee in the wild.
Or even shower where men are beguiled.
Now that the Pentagon has made its analysis 
that women fighting at war would not be calamitous, 
They should not hold them back just because they 
have no *****es.



Details | Ballad | |

TO EVERY SOLDIER THAT THEIR IS

One of the happiest days,
Is  bringing our soldiers home alive,
To where they can be seen,
By their families once again,
To show them we love them,
And care about them,
In the ways we should,
Cause they gave up their time,
And their lives for this country,
For our freedoms we often take for granted,
To protect us from the domestic evils of today,
Whether we see them or not,
We should praise them all,
For all that they have done,
Including those who have fallen,
And can Not walk back through the gates of home,
For they have fallen and given more for this country,
And sacrificed more than we pay attention too,
To save us all for our freedoms,
Which our country will often forget,
With time the fallen one's,
Because we often pay attention to those,
Who are here in front of us and can fight,
One day at a time,
Which is the wrong way to be,
Cause all soldiers are made the same,
And should never be forgotten in anyway,
Day after day cause we have what we have,
To remind us all of all who have sacrificed their lives,
For the freedoms we have to keep us safe,
Each and everyday!


Details | Romanticism | |

feelings of a man

To be on a hill on a tall dark horse,
With the wind
In a slight breeze
To take away the sweat from your forehead
And your steed
As look down at where you will be, with ease

Shining all in your full battle gear, 
The sun reflects of all your medals of heroism
Pinned up on your chest
Shining out the thoughts of your loves, shining near
Your favorite surrounds your own heart, 
You’re at and with your best

As you ready to go into the rift of blood and chaos
It is the loved ones on your mind that you protect
With your own life, as your heart will reflect 
A time in your life you enjoy a tear
For yourself, as you ride out to a possible loss
To meet deaths own door without fear, 
And feel more alive now than ever before 
with the souls you protect  
With the feelings of a man	


written 062714		


Details | Quatrain | |

One Out Of Three

That homeless guy out on the corner,
Carrying a sign that says he’s hungry;
Maybe he’s just a drunk or a ‘stoner’, 
But he might be that one-out-of-three.

That one-out-of-three is a veteran,
Who in uniform served his country.
There’s a good chance he has an addiction,
Or is still suffering from PTSD.

One out of three of those ones-out-of-three
Fought in one of America’s wars.
Did he scream on a beach in Normandy,
Or did he at Inchon go ashore.

Did he hunt Charlie in a rice paddy?
Was he in the Balkans, or lost in the sand?
One out of three of those ones-out-of-three,
Were the heroes who once took a stand.

If you can spare a few dollars, then feed them.
If not, at least hear what they say.
Their country may no longer need them, 
But they don’t deserve to be thrown away.

They might not have all bled in battle, 
But each one came home a casualty.
With your help, they may someday be able
To leave the ranks of the one-out-of-three.


Details | Couplet | |

A soldier's friend

Slowly breathing with a steady beat
Boots are crunching you feel the heat

You inch on closer, looking around
Watching your friends make not a sound

You have been told to kill this man
A threat he is to freedoms plan

Hold up your rifle, take careful aim
Let go of the guilt your not to blame

Orders you follow a good soldier you are
Try not to think the size of the scar

That this order will bring deep in your soul
We raise the flag on top of this soldier's hole

I will give support, I will lend my hand
So you can brother, continue to stand

To fight for the freedoms of people everywhere 
Down your rifle I, with you, shall stare


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.


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


Details | Lyric | |

WHISKEY LULLABY

written 17th Sept 2013


             "WHISKEY LULLABY"
                          sung by Brad Paisley and Alason Krass

Just married, he loved his new wife,more than anyone saw
 a day after they where married, he got drafted off to war
Overjoyed to finally return home to his bride
 he walked in, to find she was in bed with another man
With just a slight second, his heart died
 pain overwhelmed his entire soul, he picked up a drink
And started to drink more every day, to try to forget
 as time passed, he drank himself to death, with a note "I'll love her till I die
they buried him beneath the willow, as she watched she filled her soul with regret 
 left to blame herself, she began to drink his memory away
As years passed she slowly drank her pain away
 they found her next to his grave, holding his picture as she passed away
They buried her beneath the willow, and they were together again
 and the angles sang a whisky lullaby
So when you find your one true love, be faithful and true
 for no amount of alcohol will mend a broken heart for whatever you do!
 

 I chose this song for my mother and my father both became alcoholics after they separated and my father passed away at the age of 42years old, my mother still lives but never stopped drinking she will be 58 years old she took off with his best friend from the age of 12yrs old


Details | Lyric | |

To young to die

Too young to die


They take a boy, too young to shave
Who has never lived his life
While his mates are chasing girls
They fill his life with strife
They send him off to a brand new war
Over some damned fools Ideal
I don’t understand their wars
And I guess I never will


The folk who like to run the show
Or most of them at least
Have never even been to war
They’ve never felt the beast
As he rips right into one’ intestines
That hollow hole of fear!
Each leader should be sent to war
Then the picture might grow clear


Then when they send young boys to war
They’ll see the whole damned show
The weight of endless terror
 And then maybe they’ll know
What it’s like as a fine young man
To be sent out there to die
He might then know, how a mother feels
When she’s lost her little guy.

1 August 2013 @ 1443hrs.


Details | Acrostic | |

A real hero

                                                             A REAL HERO?
                                                          By: Synthia Miner

                  What does it take to be a hero?
  Being a single mother, keeping a family strong.
   or a single father, helping his daughter along.
  Maybe a soldier leaving his newly pregnant wife.
or making the ultimate sacrifice, to save only one life?

                  What makes a real hero?
      Knowing how to stop a drug lab or a bomb.
  or having the power to save a child gone wrong.
      Is it being able to help the hungry,
  or saving everything that’s been lonely.

                   How do we define a hero?
       Every way you look at it, people can say,
             heroes come naturally…. in a way,

       But; when you dig down deep,
          I see only one answer

           A real hero must have the will to live;
                 whether for him or her self,
      or everything and everyone one around them.
Heroes have the courage to stand up for what they believe in.

From this I say, that my Uncle Jason Mullholand is a real hero.
         He has fought for his life, not just to be alive,
                        but for raising his family.

                 So you see, heroes are hear everyday.
      It’s the soldier fighting for peace,
        and the mother battling cancer.
   And the kids you ignore hunting for food,
    Just to feed their always hungry siblings.

    A real hero values the life of everyone, 
     and charges with the courage of love.

To every hero out there 
Please keep up the fight for life!


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Forward Observer

In a cold dark damp jungle on a line he now calls home,
Sits the Forward Observer, waiting for orders, observing the enemy all alone.
Enemy trying to find his position; to terminate his view.
He'll sit in silence for hours, to guide the direction for a military move.
No sleep, no fire, COLD;  bitter cold Korean jungle. 
Slow moves;  that command approves.
Watchful eyes;  always looking for the sniper's
The sniper always trying to end your day, your life; your way, back to your family.
Slither like a snake they said during training to do this job.
Slow and calculated because every move could be your last. 
seconds into minutes; minutes into hours; hours into days 
and still no replacement, to take this chill away.
Silence becomes your friend.
Time becomes a loss,
Cold damp surroundings, become your only boss. 
F.O. they call me;  both sides abhor me! 
because I'm the one that rains down fire,
on the line as only I can see it.
Some call me God, others call me satin, 
it all mixes in the middle as a Forward Observer station.


Details | Tanka | |

Army Rangers Rescue UFO Abductee

Up on  mountain top.
Just don't know how I got here.
Army Rangers  rescued me.
Says UFO kidnapped me.
Sure lucky I was let go.


Details | Sapphic stanza | |

THE BECKONING OF OSSIAN'S CAVE


                            THE BECKONING OF OSSIAN’S CAVE

                                    

            Sense the ancient Celtic rocky entrance beckon onward--

            Heard the time-past warriors clink their ale-blown jests--

            Willed my dwindling courage plunge me, blood soaked,  to the doorway;

                                                                   Breath spent--I leapt....



A Celtic myth claims that Ossian welcome's slain warriors & soldiers into an afterlife where they join slain warriors of all clans and times. (to see Ossian's Cave, check Wikipedia)

Victoria Anderson-Throop
2013


Details | Narrative | |

The Just for the Unjust

The Just for the Unjust

BIBLE MEDITATION:
"For Christ also died for sins once for all, the Just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God ..." 1 Peter 3:18

DEVOTIONAL THOUGHT:
A Roman soldier walked down a narrow corridor in a Roman prison. He held the torch up, and back in the shadows was a man. The guard with his key opened the door and said, "Barabbas, get up and come with me." Barabbas began to plead, "No, wait, don't take me! Have mercy!" The Roman soldier said, "You're not going to die; there's somebody else who's going to die in your place. Come here. Look over on that hill. That's the cross we made for you. But there's someone else on it. He has taken your place."

In what happened to Barabbas, God arranged a perfect picture of substitution -- the just dying for the unjust that He might bring us to Himself.

ACTION POINT:
Take time today to tell the Lord Jesus Christ how much you love Him and how grateful you are that He stepped out of glory and became obedient unto death--even the death of the Cross--for your sake and mine.


Details | Elegy | |

SAPPHO'S FALLING STARS part 1

                                            SAPPHO’S FALLING STARS     (Part one)


I am descendent of Odysseus
	Hero of the past
Have I kin—I know not—I may be the last--
The Trojan War and Helen made my family's blazing fame
Thus magnified by Homer was made our honor and ancestral name

I stand this day the General of the fallen men that the Fates have tossed
across the Siren Sappho's way—
now foolishly slain-- my Fallen Stars    	 
                      		such a ragged few
                                       in this paltry breath of a moment
                                      			of mere delay--

Inconsequential time in history 
                                                                                          forever lost—


at their honor’s cost


for Mine, a Mighty Name
excuses easily such inconsequential blame
                                                                         
I cannot weep—I cannot pray

                      Such sacrifice of brave men
	              Lifeless , While I stand whole
	               Due to my folly 
                      Sucks the breath stark from my soul

Yarns and lore of Heroes—I know
Babe……. to youth……… in manhood……..
Each far-flung hour, day upon dew-kissed day
Nurtured ever cherished in the sweet talk of the female-breast-kissed way
      	Absorbed sensuous tactics laced with salty woman taste--so learned
	Intimately known as my manhood blossomed

Intimate Initiate—once
You, Sappho, sought my need –-
Intimate follower once—
                                I ate your passion delicious sauced with greed

(part two posted)............................................





Victoria Anderson-Throop  12/18/12 ©


Details | Lyric | |

I don't want to fight

I don’t want to fight

I’ve been here just a few long days
I’ve still a year to go
There’s not too much to do out here
The days, they pass so slow
And lord, it gets so blooming warm
It’s not the place to be
If one’s looking for a comfort zone
And sweet tranquillity.

The Cong, they send their missiles in
The guns they roar so loud
They hate our guts, behind that wire
They’re fighters, and they’re proud
These folk, they want to keep their land
And I guess they’ve got their rights
I don’t know what we’re trying to win
But I don’t want to fight.

Oh, I don’t care about Vietnam
I really, truly do not give a damn
I just want to go back home
And be just who I am.

Three hundred and sixty days to go
I think I’ll die out here
If net through this fighting thing
Maybe, I’ll die of fear
I have a wife and two sweet kids
The baby I’ve not seen
But here I am in Vietnam
All dressed in jungle green


Details | Free verse | |

Shadowboxing

My shoulders are well oiled axles,
my fists are cannon balls

I am an uncompromised,
uninhibited,
and unchallenged fresh breath of boldness

I am a statue of fastholding,
chiseled down from black diamonds by the strong hand of craftsmanship

I am chaos's more stable second cousin,
and favored uncle to the prodigals, the proliferates, the princes, and the prodigies

I am the lion's heart beat,
the war drum's sporadic syncopation

I am the wolf pack's collective sixth and seventh senses,
keen on the scent of blood, fear, and impending annihilation

I will not sway to the breath of your voice
nor will I stagger at the wind your weather weaves

Advance upon me and find yourself hard pressed against calloused intolerance,
behind which is a wall,
and behind that wall,
an army

I pray you combust into flames and feathers at once 
should my name birth from your lips

I pray my night guardsmen have eyes of eagles,
and my trumpeteers have breaths of behemoths should you 
ever encroach upon my camp at dreaming hour

I promise to empress upon you pressure,
of a nature that spawns pearls, magma, and passionate revolution

But the only revolution that will come of your resistance is vertigo,
as you spiral downward into abysmal forgottenness

Now heed my words with intent lest you risk the fate of faded bewilderment

May God be my strength as I destroy you

Eviscerate you

Annihilate you

I will obliterate you until the only remnant of your very existence
is but a vague memory,

of a fleeting idea

in a dream

inside a dream

inside a coma.


www.psalmsandpsychoses.com


Details | Rhyme | |

The Meadow

I see a meadow,
Simple and plain,
But it speaks to me,
And it speaks of the fallen men, 
And all its seen slain.

Flowers bloom at its edge,
Seems  of a comforting place,
But it spoke to me,
It spoke of the war,
Man to man, race to race,
From its edges to beyond the ever far.

Only green, green grass,
But I can see it now,
Red blood upon the field,
And the courage the men must wield.

I can hear the shouts,
From the broken meadow,
From all it has seen,
It shall never forget,
What it must clean.

Blood soaked meadow,
Bodies beneath the earth,
Where war was once fought,
Is now a place of mirth.

No one knows,
Only the meadow and I,
Of the many horrid things,
That took place that day.

I look below me, 
And grieve,
For the fallen and dead,
As the tears beckon my sleeve.

The meadow,
As lonely as it may seem,
And the beauty it now holds,
We know the truth,
So I sit, and never move,
As the rest of its story unfolds.

I can see it all,
I shall never forget.

One day, 
Another shall pass,
To see a meadow,
Simple and plain,
And I will rise,
To tell them of those who had been slain.


Details | Rhyme | |

We The Lost People

Our government says were incompetent –
our weapons they must take.
The 2nd Amendment no longer applies,
life, liberty and the pursuit happiness
is now at stake.

Our forefathers were merely mistaken –
this Constitution they’ve drafted in vain.
So they tear it apart piece by piece,
as We The People watch with disdain.

Your opinion doesn’t matter here –
Freedom of Speech belongs to them,
to a perverse, corrupted society,
too ignorant to see their condemned.

The Bill of Rights once ever so protected –
the Ten Commandments in every courtroom,
both now are strictly an abomination,
to this Godless Country in doom.

Take heed to their acts of subtle changes –
to their intensive need to change our creed,
People! It’s not about protecting us!
It’s about control, domination and greed!


Details | Acrostic | |

AMAZING

AmazinG courageous heroes, Rangers, Seals and Delta Force of AmericA
Militarily defending freedom and liberty against  radical,  jihad  terrorisM
Around the world defeating all evil men with an Anti - American  agendA
Zemzem flows from Mecca the oasis for good & evil, all the way to SueZ 
Israeli support is given for Hebrew hate in Syria, Iran, Iraq and AfghanI
Navy Seals #6 killed Usama, Anglicos got Saddam out of hole he was iN
Guardians & defenders of all men everywhere, they are simply AmazinG 




Amazing Acrostic shadow style with "Amazing" the first word and the last word

A tribute to America's Special Forces


Details | Free verse | |

Camp 37

I am older now, my
body creaks, but it
remembers.
As if it happened
yesterday,
Walking through Camp
37, east of Dresden
Germany
Dark, sorrowful
overcast skies
Hang like a wash of
black ink

Rusted razor wire,
empty guard towers.
Sentinels to times
past, a reminder
Snow crunches like
ginger crackers
under my feet.
Forty cabins, dark
weathered wood
Allied containers

Sweet pine scents
the cold air
My old bunk is bare
Etched messages in
wood, still there.
Hidden stashes,
cigarettes
Freedom in dreams,
shattered when you
awake

Silence,
But my thoughts are
partying,
Tea time was the
best, no cream
Tattered Red Cross
packages, tastes of
home
Hopes for tomorrow

Final freedom.
At Armageddon's end,
Captors become
captives
Deliverance to
tomorrow,
I remember it well.