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Soldier Ballad Poems | Ballad Poems About Soldier

These Soldier Ballad poems are examples of Ballad poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Soldier Ballad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad |

The sensitive soldier

The sensitive soldier

A boy like him, how could he think?
That a soldier he could be?
He was soft, poetic, sensitive
And yet this lad, did he
Join the army for to fight
To keep his country free
The lad he was adventurous
So he joined up happily.

Then he learned the very hard way
That war is for the strong
There’s no place there for heart and soul
The boy did not belong
All the stuff he saw, it broke him down
And made a mess of him
He had a breakdown, fell apart
His each day felt so grim.

They discharged him, and he became
A kind of nowhere man
He did not fit in anywhere
And now this man called Dan
He lives alone, and writes his stuff
And drinks a lot of beer
Cause what his life is all about
He really is not clear.

30 January 2014 @ 0645hrs.







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 | Ballad |

My sickness and my healing

My sickness and my healing

When I came back from Vietnam
I was afraid of everything
I really don’t know why this was
Cause, no danger did it bring
To me, my stay in that country
But the poisons that they used
Convinces me that they stuffed my mind
Those powers, our heads abused.

That fear in me was so intense
My mind was filled with dread
I was afraid of being alive
I was afraid of being dead
Sometime I’d freeze so totally
Like I was paralyzed.
I went to so much counseling
So many tears I cried.

And then one day I searched the net
And I found this little site
The site they call it ‘just one look’
And they did do me right
It took four years, but now I’m sane
I have no fear at all
And I have no anxiety
I’m no more a crazy fool.

5 September 2013 @ 1345hrs


Details | Ballade |

How poetry healed me

How poetry healed me.

Once so many years ago
I left my native home
And came here to Australia
[I really liked to roam] 
But then before I settled down
In this lovely paradise
I joined the army, went to war
Then came back cold as Ice.

The hatred burned inside my soul
And anger filled me up
I challenged me the whole damn world
No love did fill my cup
I tried my hardest then to change
For I knew that I was wrong
I tried Guru’s and self help books
But nothing changed the song.

Then I decided one fine day
To seek some counselling
That did not help me much at all
But I did learn one thing
The man, he told me what to do
{I had P T S D}
He said ‘you must start writing down
Each day the way things be.

I heard him well, and so I did
Exactly what he said
I’d write it down with lots of zeal
What went on in my head
And as I learned to write in rhyme
And rhythm, and have fun
I found that after each new write
Some healing did get done.

My head got clearer every day
The hate was fading out
Then I became a mellow man
Didn’t throw my weight about
And people stopped from worrying
About what I would do
By writing all my poetry
Some goodness came on through.

And now I’m here, writing for you
Here on this poetry site
And knowing that folk like my stuff
Gives me such sweet delight
My art has given me so much
To thank my maker for
And now I guess I’ll write these poems
From now till evermore

11 June 2013 @ 1545hrs.


Details | Ballade |

Paying back what I owe

Paying back what I owe.

I guess that some are wondering
Why I’m writing all this stuff
About the man John Sherman
Maybe you’ve had enough
But I owe the man so much
He taught me how to be
A man who lives more in the moment
With a heart and soul that’s free.

I was angry, rude and antisocial
I had no friends at all
No one wanted me around
I’d drive them up the wall
With all  my foolish paranoid
And the hatred deep within
I tried with everything I had
To quell the nasty din.

But then I read Johns message
As I did surf the net
He told me ’do one little act!!’
And I have no regrets
That I did take the mans advice
For look at me today
My happiness is my success
And joy, it is my way.

Now I’m a very loyal man
I must pay back what I owe
John and Carla changed my life
So I want the world to know
I make me no false promises
I just say look and see
It doesn’t cost nothing at all
But it made a brand new me.

13 July 2013 @ 1208hrs.


Details | Ballad |

"Valley of lost hope"

Dead men lying on the bottom of the grave
wondering when savior comes
Is he going to be saved
maybe you're a sinner into your alternate life
maybe you're a joker,maybe you deserve to die

They were crying when their sons left
god is wearing black
he's gone so far to find no hope 
he's never coming back...

They were crying when their sons left 
all young men must go
he's come so far to find the truth
he's never going home

Young men standing at the tops of their graves
wondering when jesus comes 
are they gonna be saved

Cruelty to the loser,Bishop tells the King
maybe you're a mourner,or just deserve to die
they were crying when their sons left
god is wearing black
he's gone so far to find no hope
he's never coming back

They were crying when their sons left 
all young men must go
he's come so far to find no truth
he's never going home

Welcome to the soldier side
where there's no one here but me
people all grow up to die
there is no one here but me

Welcome to the soldier side
sons come here to die
people on the soldiers side ....
come here,but be willing to die....


Details | Ballade |

Group therapy

Group Therapy.

On a cold and windy day in June
Ten Diggers got together
Each retired on T.P.I
Their faces tough as leather.
They’d served there time in Vietnam
They were sad men, that’s for sure
They were wounded in the heart and soul
Still hurting more and more

They called this thing “Group therapy”
It was an anger course
Cause each of these ex service men
Had felt their angers force.
Within them it was flying high
The venom was real strong
Each one open to some danger
Adrenaline levels wrong.

The counsellor read a poem to them
Which was wrote by me for they
And me, I still remember it
Like it was yesterday.
Eleven pairs of weeping eyes
Were seen within this room
These words read out were cleansing them
And clearing out their gloom.

The counsellor did join in too
As they all wept together
A counsellor and these aging men
All rough and tough as leather.
And years on later down the track
I’m writing more and more
For I know the worth of simple words
They have value, that’s or sure.


Details | Ballad |

Jock

Jock.

Now Jock he was a friend of mine
In those good old army days
When teenage boys were herded in
And made to change their ways
He told me one fine summer’s day
With a big blue sky above
"I'm glad that I'm a soldier boy
This army life I love".

They shipped him off to good old Nam
Placed a rifle in his hands
And said "now you're a soldier boy
I hope you'll understand
We're fighting those old Vietcong
You've got to see us right
You don't know what it's all about!!!
Nor us, just go and fight"

Poor Jock ain't with us any more
God bless his poor old mum
Our lad he was a forward scout
No use his bloody gun
As the flying metal put him down
Our jock the hero died
As politicians wined and dined
So many tears were cried.


Details | Ballad |

A Soldier's Sorrow

I looked out across the land 
and saw all my comrades falling down. 
Bodies of wounded and dead for I can 
see were miles around, so I took a breath, 
then I took a step with my rifle on my side, 
then I charged into battle with fear in my 
heart 'cause I knew it was time to die. 
And just the other week I saw my baby girl. 
She pleaded me not to leave, but I had to 
save the world. 
So I looked upon her face 
and smiled as a tear ran down my cheek 
o'my little baby Angela who I only saw last week. 
Now it's months and months within the battle. 
Many have done died. 
Goverment letters were sent to their love ones 
only to make them cry. 
O'why O'why do we live like this in a world that 
should never have been? 
It's the world that we're living in, 
a world that was forged from sin. 
but the walking dead keep marching on. 
Hoorah! Hoorah! 
The walking dead keep marching on. 
Hoorah. Hoorah. 
souls who thought they were coming back, 
now they find themselves all alone 
in a shallow grave, far away from a place 
they once called home..


Details | Ballad |

The Mojo Trick

The Mojo Trick
Loch David Crane
June 1979

Sweat-sticky and hot! The P. I. is not
	a comfortable place to be;
but sit here and perspire (as though by the fire)
	and I'll tell a tale to thee.

I was coming alive in a Philippine dive
	after Mojo and San Miguels;
 the raging fire in my stomach went higher
	but my sea legs rode out the swells.

I began with a pitcher of Mojo that hit
	a spot in my appetite;
and glass after glass I drank till the last
	and soon was feeling just right.	

Then a hostess sat down in a low-cut gown
	and asked "I sit with you tonight?"
And I nodded OK in a nonchalant way
	so she seated herself on my right.

Now the hostesses here are all drink San Miguel beer
	And the same is served all around;
but it don't show much class to charge five times' a 	glass
when serving's the same size per round.
So you pay a dear price to drink beer over ice
	which is how it is served in P.I.;
if you buy a girl beer when she says "I work here,"
	then she knows you're a Big Spender guy.

So I looked at this girl and my mind began to whirl
	and the Mojo played a trick.
Her face was so funny – a nose like a bunny –
	I wouldn't let her flick my Bic!

I won’t call her ugly, but with that funny mug she'd
	make customers run and hide;
you could send that girl in to a crowded room; then
	watch as horrified man stepped outside.

So as I drank my beer with a grin ear  to ear
	I said "My name is Billy, I think."
She was hardly demure; she said "My name is La Tour.
	I love you no lie.  Buy me drink."

Well I should have said "no," and let the chick go
	but I wasn't alone in the place;
and the thought of all night with this dog was a fright
	though her body was nice – but that face!

I thought "just one more brew,” cause I'd only had two,
	and I said that I'd buy her a drink.
Then she gave me a grin with her toothless brown chin
	and my self image started to sink.

But because I was shy (I'm just that sort of guy)
	I just couldn't tell her to leave;
so I stared at the band and I drummed with my hand
	and I brushed off the lint from my sleeve.

Well the music was fine; but the bar girl's next line
	was to say "Are you married, young man?"
And I saw my way out and lied with a pout –
	told her I had a wife in Japan.

So she finished her beer, and was soon gone from here,
and I ordered two beers to celebrate;
I was lucky, I thought, not to get caught
	between her and a magistrate.

For the Philippine girls wear long dresses and curls
	and use perfume and makeup for baits;
for to marry a guy, seaman or G.I.,
	means a free trip back to the States.

Then a man from the crew asked me "What's wrong with 	you?
	Why did you let that girl go?"
And I told him her face was scare spots off an ace
	but he looked back at me and said "No."

I called for "beer 12" and started to delve
	into my pocket for money;
my friend said "I'll buy," and his cash didn't lie,
	and "Mind if I sit with your honey?"
I said "you can do just what you want to do,"
	and I said that I couldn’t look at her;	
but he thought she was cute, had a nice bod to boot,
	so I nodded to go ahead after.

But beer thirteen made my vision grow keen,
	and I saw what a prize I had missed;
"I have drunk too much brew!   She was beautiful, too."
	as I saw him voluptuously kissed.

I thought "How could this be? She said she loved me! "
	My hand shook; my ice cubes went clink.
I heard her say to him "My name is Tuptim.
	I love you no lie.  By me drink."

So I smiled. I was glad; I was no longer mad
	'cause the Mojo had clouded my eyes;
I realized then she was after my friend, 
	and I hoped he was quick with his lies.

So it's "sailor beware!" In Olongopo there;
	where the girls fish for guys in the bars;
and though I often roam, I always come home,
	– single! Thanking my lucky stars.

– By the Phantom of the O2 level

(O1 and O2 are Officer’s and Civilians’ quarters on the USS Kitty Hawk; I taught English aboard several ships at sea, in the Program Afloat for College Education.)


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