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Christmas War Poems | Christmas Poems About War

These Christmas War poems are examples of Christmas poems about War. These are the best examples of Christmas War poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Romanticism | |

His Beauty Revealed on Christmas Day

As the snow falls around me, I marvel at God’s wholesome and worthy entity. The Lord, on his special day, has given me a gift so precious and special; He has opened my eyes to his wondrous glory. The Lord above all has allowed me to see the beauty in the smallest of things: The stars and moon at night, and the clouds and sun by day; The little trickles of freezing cold, yet clean, fresh, clear water Running down the mountainsides, quenching my insatiable thirst; The trees in all their grandeur, That provide my warmth when I gather their branches; The leaves and pine needles at my feet, Providing soft beds for me and all the forest creatures. Best of all of these, however, is the snow. The beautiful snow in which no two snowflakes are the same. The same biting cold, yet strangely comforting and fulfilling snow, In which brings forth light on the darkest of days. I must thank the all-loving God, who has bestowed upon me this glorious gift. Me, a pathetic excuse for a soldier who has run away From the sight of bloodshed because I cannot stand to fight another friend. Me, a coward who is now running from the law, And living solely in the forest for fear of being caught and hanged. Me, a God-believing man who has sinned greatly. But I have repented. I have asked God for forgiveness of my sins on Christmas Eve night, And He has replied by giving me snow on Christmas morning, showing me that I am not alone, and that I should not be afraid. And, by His grace, when all I have been seeing was darkness and despair, He opened me up to allow me to see the beauty and light in all his creation. “I praise You, oh glorious God, for giving me this most wonderful gift! I thank You for forgiving me, a sinner, of all my wrongdoings, and for giving me this awe-inspiring gift, for which I have done nothing to deserve! I exalt you on high, oh Lord, for all that you have done and given me, and will do for me and give me! I will love and praise you always! Amen.”

Copyright © Josiah Rutter

Details | Free verse | |

Christmas Scene

So what is different
The vagrant limps across the careening snow
Scantily unkempt
From inside the bank with glittering glass
I watched him pass
Carried by the flow
Of that dilapidated mass
For whom tolls the jingling bell
And toll, and toll ignored again
My heart 
Shunning the superficial cheer
Left all I heard
Devoted to a pilgrimage of eyes
Where the fire glows warm
And hope gathers moth-like 
I see him push, and pushing through
Put out his arms to touch the tired flame
As though an angel had troubled it
Or perhaps a rudimentary manger
And Christ so far from it
While he sleeps secure on warm
On the bank floor
Under the beautiful Christmas tree.
I walked away
Full of grief and empty
While behind me toll, and toll again
The jingling bells of the Salvation Army.
O Mary, hail us not as Joseph in this despair
Nor magnify too much your feat
He too has swollen and blistered feet
And I volatile from the pilgrimage
Ask questions of my faith
Tell me, for all the change from manger to cross,
What is different now from then?











Copyright © L'nass Shango

Details | I do not know? | |

1914 Christmas Truce on the Western Front






                                      warriors risk lives

                         post . . .  Merry Christmas . . . dance . . . hug

                                    love on Western Front







May there be Peace on Earth – Merry Christmas






David Meade
12-20-2014

Live Generously

Copyright © David Meade

Details | Free verse | |

Apologies to Alice at Christmas

My toves are not slithy this evening,
They will not gyre or gymbal at all.
And worldwide the wabes are all dusty.
While North Korea threatens,
                  Nuclear War!!

CNN now tells us of terror,
That threatens the whole world with hate,
And those who love peace seem neglected.
              Poor foolish patrons of war!

Now the Jabberwock seems hardly scary,
He's a threat even babies don't fear.
Better by far to tremble at the Jabberwocks cry,
             Than to raise a glass to war.

Now whereever soldiers are fighting,
And whatever they fight for tonight,
Give them peace for one night from the child of light.
            And a new year without any war,
            A gift from everyone to the entire world.

Copyright © William Kershaw

Details | Narrative | |

Christmas Rebels (2).

But night’s bell came with tears and without love,
As our bamboo door talked,
“KNOCK! KNOCK!!”
Before my voice could speak,
Legs ruined down my door,
Then eyes in different heights
In the starry night like 
Torch lights… attacked 
Me with their voices.
They came in mass,
Some brandishing cutlass,
Some matchets, guns and arrows.
Gang upon gangs,
Displaying their flags,
Blood stained, tattered, hair, shaggy.
They held human heads for their 
Oracles of war.
They were muttering songs as if 
Forced to sing,
They had leaves and grasses in the 
Middle of their mouths, they were mostly teens, 
They were the Hausa rebels… 
“Wait! Wait!! Wait!!!
Where are the bells?
Is this day not Christmas?”
I was asking myself,
A short tick man came out of the mass,
Not looking like human,
He looked backed at the rest,
Feeling like the best.
He weakened my hear drums 
By the manner of his question,
“Hausa or Birom?”.
To send my religion to the bottom?
Whom for this day, is Christmas? 
And sweet Messiah’s Calvary at Golgotha?
I wasn’t prepared for that, 
So the truth came out like a blast
“Birom!!”.
“Yee! Yee!! Yee!!!
Enemy tribes” they shouted 
Like savage talking drums.

(To be continued in the next, same Poem).

Copyright © Charles Melody Lightning Ink

Details | Elegy | |

Blood Christmas

** A trauma on Xmas eve, 24/12/2010, late night.**

     BLOOD CHRISTMAS

Christmas bliss! Christmas bliss!!
Bliss turned sour, sour turned blood.
Blood wrought cry, the cry for the brutally
Departed....
As soon as mid night surfaced, every one's loins leaped,
Helpless innocents wept,
For another crisis was born...
Gun shots vexed into straying helpless,
Dispatching for their lives....
Matchets wounds, went deep-deeper
Like pot holes.
Blood splashed like rain drops
Oh! no when will Jos crisis end?
Who will be the rescue?
Someone give me a clue? 
We woke up to find dead mass,
Today being Christmas,
Shattered by bomb blast,
Where will these lead to at last?
Marauding fanatics... so mindful 
Of blood.
Blood Christmas! blood Christmas!!...
Beware... and watch your back!
Or you you'll be caught unaware in the midst
Of the bliss turned sour...


BY: CHARLES MELODY (LIGHTNING INK).

Copyright © Charles Melody Lightning Ink

Details | Elegy | |

Christmas Rebels (3).

Then the leader in a flash
Sent his bullet through my 
Pregnant wife’s stomach, 
Sending the bullet out of her 
To my little girl’s brain.
He was a killer glutton, for he turned to my 
Son’s brain, scattering it,
With his axe, making the brain 
Splash on my dazed countenance.
They swiftly and organisingly boundled me up
Amidst my confusion and helpless struggles,
They cut off the veins at the back of my fits,  
Leaving me in a river of blood.

Death claimed my home,
His weapons were the Christmas rebels, 
On a melancholic Christmas night.
My saddest Christmas ever.

THE END OF THE MATTER…..

By Charles Melody (Lightening Ink)
For all the victims in jos crisis.
Rest in peace.

Copyright © Charles Melody Lightning Ink

Details | Lyric | |

Christmas in the Middle East

Said the soldier to his wife at home,
do you see what I see?

Way up in the sky, my dear,
do you see what I see?

A rocket, a rocket, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite...
With a tail as big as a kite... 

Said the soldier to his only son,
do you hear what I hear?

Ringing through the sky, my boy,
do you hear what I hear?

A bomb, a bomb, high above the sands
With a voice as big as the sea...
With a voice as big as the sea... 

Said the soldier to his president,
do you know what I know? 

So safe at home, Mr. President,
do you know what I know? 

Men, men are dying in the sand
Let us bring them home
Let us bring them home 

Said the Poet to the people everywhere,
listen to what I say! 

Pray for peace, people everywhere,
listen to what I say!

Our nation, our nation, rising to its feet
Its strength will bring us peace today
Its strength will bring us peace today.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------                              ----------------------------------
Based on the "Do You Hear What I Hear?" Christmas song written in October 1962 with lyrics by Noël Regney and music by Gloria Shayne Baker. 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------                             ----------------------------------While Christmas approaches nearer to our hearts and homes, it is important to remember our brothers over-seas. Everyday, people are dying in wars that should have ended long before they begun, and now, in a time as great as any, we must remember that peace is not impossible, but rather grows in the hearts of all whom maintain it.

This Christmas, let us do our part.

Copyright © Ph.d Volo Von Wolfenstein

Details | Prose Poetry | |

SANTA'S SURPRISE

SANTA'S   SURPRISE   

Santa Claus stripped off his beard and red suit 
And left the show in the officers’ mess
Pulling the last tiny pieces of cotton wool from his stubbled chin
As he ran to his position 

At the end of the starboard bow catapult of the Carl Vinson
Eighty feet above the stormy grey Arabian Sea     
He watched as far off down the flight deck 
The final touches manoeuvred the F22 into the cradle
  
Its ordnance today a hundred kilogram fragmentation device 
For a rebel bunker in Afghanistan an hour’s flying time away
A surprise delivery for them;
The salt wind whipped the last cotton from his face.

Then his thumb pressed the green all-clear button  
Engine screamed to maximum and the catapult released
The flying load into the grey sky. Another successful delivery.
He checked his area of the mechanism after the aircraft blurred past

And hurried back inside to finish his Christmas dinner
Merry Christmas Santa, they all yelled as he came in again.



Copyright © Sidney Beck

Details | Rhyme | |

Christmas Day 1943 In North Platte, Nebraska

The Union Pacific steamer billowed clouds of smoke as down the rails it raced!
Young soldiers aboard the crowded train contemplated the dire fates they faced.
Melancholy thoughts of hearth and home this Christmas Day were hard to bear.
The mournful wail of the engine's whistle added to their loneliness and despair.

The troop train provided very little conveniences for the miserable men.
No showers, a potbellied stove for heat and a tasteless meal now and then.
Little sleep was had since there were no berths or fancy Pullman cars.
Even a nap in their seats was fitful due to the coaches rocking jars!

Ah, but there was good news ahead for these young men on the way to war!
The sergeant announced, "We're stoppin' at North Platte, Nebraska! Ain't very far!
The kind ladies of North Platte is waitin' to greet youse on this Christmas Day!
Now, watch yer language, comb yer hair and shine yer shoes wid'out delay!"

The ladies of North Platte met every train passing through since the war began!
From the bounty of their farms they provided food for each and every man!
Ladies from miles about brought fried chicken, candy, apple pies and cakes,
Even popcorn balls with addresses of girls wrapped therein, for heaven's sakes!

Each train stopped for twenty minutes or so to take on more water and coal,
But those precious moments lifted the morale of the men which was the ladies goal!
They met as many as thirty-two trains a day serving nearly six million guys!
Decades later those men, now old vets, recall North Platte with teary eyes!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Rhyme | |

A Soldiers Letter Home

A Soldier’s Letter Home

I can’t believe it is that time of year
I haven’t yet gotten that old Christmas Cheer
What with you back at home and me over here
I love you and miss you my dear

And even though I’m near the place of His birth
I hear no “Merry Christmas”; see no Christmas mirth
And Lord knows from here I see no Peace on Earth
I love you and miss you my dear

But we’ve put up a tree – looks like Charlie Brown’s
And we’ve hung on its branches gold-colored spent rounds
And when the wind blows those tinkle bells sound
I love you and miss you my dear

I miss the kids more and more every day
And you know I would be there if there was any way
Tell them I miss them and ask them to pray
I love you and miss you my dear

Now give the kids kisses and say “Daddy loves you”
And I’ll hurry home once my tour here is through
So I can give kisses and hugs to you too
I love you and miss you my dear

Well the Captain is calling, the fighting’s begun
I’ve put on my helmet, my vest; grabbed my gun
Say a prayer for me dear but now I’ve got to run
I love you and miss you my dear


Mdailey

Copyright © mike dailey

Details | Rhyme | |

War On Christmas

Factions are girding their loins for war during this Season of Peace,
In what has become a clamorous and annual national bickering piece!
Do we say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" to those we meet?
Or do we observe the 'niceties of political correctness' and be discreet!

When the Walmart greeter says, "Happy Holidays", ain't no use to holler,
Or startle the poor old geezer and grab him by his jacket collar!
After all, he's probably been programmed and tutored in what to say!
Wish him a "Merry Christmas" if that be your bent and get on your way!

Even the booze and beer companies show proper discretion and respect,
And don't associate their products with the Season, showing disrespect.
'Twould be rather crass of them and most folks would deem taboo,
To advertise, "Celebrate Jesus' birth with an Old Milwaukee Brew!"

Nowadays, some folks deem Nativity Scenes passe and obscene,
Which in times of yore to the delight of all graced the village green.
'Tis sad that a display of an innocent Babe creates such division and hate.
After all, 'tis the birth of the Christ Child that most folks choose to celebrate!

'Twould be wonderful in this Season of love and doing good,
If all would shed their prejudices and foster brotherhood.
One might ponder this dilemma by asking,  "What would Jesus say?"
I'll bet He'd say, "No matter who you are,  Peace I leave with you this day!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Blank verse | |

snowball war

Snowball War. 
Three flakes of snow fell on the village, there might
have been a few more, but those I saw landed on 
the roof of the car  and I saw them melt to droplets 
of clear water. On each droplets a tiny rainbow and
my mother´s face when I called and asked for her to 
throw down a sandwich with marge and sugar on. 
She did, often- I´m not a football keeper- it landed in 
the snow which was more than tiny flakes; so what!
Bread and sugar, I was hungry and fighting against 
children who had invading our street. And when my 
hands were frozen I came up warmed them by the stow  
and remember how it hurts to get the circulation back
 into my hands.

Copyright © jan oskar hansen

Details | Rhyme | |

Dear Santa Iraq

Dear Santa.............Iraq       

Candles burning sure and bright, 
Shining through the Christmas tree. 
Santa's coming 'round tonight, 
Bringing presents here for me. 

I sent a letter some time ago, 
I asked for things I'd need. 
For these are things for Mum and me, 
It certainly wasn't greed. 

For I am thirteen years of age, 
I asked, "please bring Dad back". 
I miss him; Mum is so upset, 
Since he died inside Iraq. 

I cry myself to sleep some nights, 
I can hear Mums sobbing heart. 
He's the only present we will need, 
"Don't keep us all apart". 

Dear Santa, no more toys or clothes, 
No gifts from that Christmas sack. 
The only thing that we all want, 
Is to have my Daddy back. 

Copyright © Leighton Rees

Details | Narrative | |

The Perfect Gift

Nine months is not very long...although
it seems forever, since you've been gone.

I still remember that knock at the door, two
strangers, I recognized, by the uniforms they wore.

Disbelief in the words, I heard them say...killed in
action, on Christmas Day.

When you left me, for a land far away...I ask Jesus
to keep you safe.

I have been so alone, with just my memories of you,
but today your Christmas Present arrived, and he is
so cute.

He came into this world, giving me back my life,
someone I can hold , all through the night.

Merry Christmas, my sweet soldier...the words 
I never got to say, you gave me a gift so perfect,
in every way.

Even though you are not here, to hold your son,
I promise, he will always know his father, and the 
good you have done.

We will decorate our tree in Red- White- and Blue...
"This year, and always, in remembrance of you."

Merry Christmas from us both, your wife, and baby son,
we will all be together one day....when our work is done.


"Please, pray for our soldiers."



Copyright © Christy Hardy

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Angels are Cleaning

White blankets over the town 
Soft and cold with little sound 
A small child asked, “Where does snow come from Mom” 
Will, I believe the angels are cleaning house 
Oh well that must really have a mess up there
“Yes I laughed”!
Mom, I know where the mess is coming from 
You do?
The angels are crying from all the sadness and war going on  
Right?
“Gasp” 
Well doesn’t water freeze? 
Yes, so they must be crying again
Mom, I hope they stop because Christmas is coming
I like to play in snow, but not if the angels are sad 
Everyone should be happy at Christmas right?


(Out of the mouth of babies!) 

Copyright © Laura Mckenzie

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christmas is Real



When we consider the losses and grief,
if we arrived at the manger.
Then Christmas is real...

If one nation is relieved by another,
even if we bury our dead.
If we arrive at the manger then
Christmas is real.

If in prayers, we bond with the hurting
world on a global basis.
Erases the fears and arrives at the
manger.
Then Christmas is real.


Christmas is real when each of
mankind reaches out with love
to another.
The reflection of his eyes will
show from the manger.



God Bless all the troops serving this Christmas.
"
350th Mobile Public Affairs Detachment

AR RAMADI, Iraq - "I'll be home for Christmas" are the final words I said to my mother as
I made my final call to her last spring while I was on my way to Iraq. We agreed never to
say "goodbye." I stated a similar claim to my wife. "Goodbye" has a finalization connotation.

"I'll be home" is a statement of confidence.

Five unexpected extensions later and we're still here. It's Christmas in the desert for us.

Military bases during the holidays are loathsome.

Copyright © Peggy Bertrand

Details | Rhyme | |

World War III on Christmas Day

Christmas is supposed to be a day of great joy.
But in less than one hour we'll all be destroyed.
Nuclear missiles are being launched and all of our lives will end.
You'd better get ready to say goodbye to your family and friends.
Soon this planet will be nothing but a radioactive cinder in space.
It is terrifying because it will be the end of the human race.
It's terrible that they chose Christmas Day to have a third world war.
Soon our land, animals, families, and friends won't exist anymore.
Tell your family and friends that you love them because you won't have a chance to 
say it again.
It's evil to destroy the world on the day when we're supposed to have peace on 
Earth and goodwill to all men.

Copyright © randy johnson