These Soldier Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Soldier Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Today is the beginning of her new life
the sorrow and pain of a soldier's wife
Her life was changed in the blink of an eye
and God only knows the reason why
Her love for him will never change
Her promise made when she took his name
Beside him bravely she will stand
to comfort him and hold his hand
As she prepares for their changing life
God will take care of a soldier's wife
VIETNAM VET SOLDIER'S NIGHTMARE
Another dream –
I could not wake –
Escape from what would follow--
Grasping for a secret word, the letters stark and hollow--
I was trapped entangled there,
Just beyond the reach
Of men that could release me
Or a hill that could be breached
Gunfire was a backdrop
Soft and pungent was its sound
Fell on me like raindrops--strangely harmless on the ground
Smoky gray encased me like a piece of sleeping net
Tunnel faces hidden —easy killing, no regret--
Felt terror and the aching for the friends around me cold
Standup guys with stalwart hearts--just did what they were told
Then my cell phone beeped a beep---
A message had come in ....
Now awake I saw your name---
My new day would begin.
November 25, 2012
waking from a nightmare contest
Then I went to see the other man’s condition. Blood was running from his ears, and his
nose. three men stood by, just watching the show. I asked them to help me, and leaned
over the man, I asked if he could hear me, and he replied with a grunt, then a groan. His
eyes were glazed over and rolled back in his head. Some one half chuckled, “leave him
he’s dead.” I stood and met the man directly in his face. “Unless you are God, that’s not
your call to make.”
We offered our help and I knew he was passing; I held his hand and cradled his head…
I said to the man, ‘It’s okay…you can go; if God is calling don’t wait….go home.’ He died
in my arms, and I held him till the helicopter came. I was proud of my wife, as she gave
her boy aid; they took him away, and saved his life that day. The weekend was over, we
lost the mood. The drive home was somber, as we cried for a man we never knew.
The next day we received a phone call…it was a General from our base, seems the man I
was holding was a soldier on leave. God gave me the chance to say thank you for real.
Not just a gesture but an act of humanity. Seems all the people around, made comments
of how my wife and I acted better than most. And offered our kindness and help to man
we never even knew. So the General got on the phone, called the police and found out
our names. We were honored by his friends on that one given day, If I hadn’t have
gotten back in the car, the soldier would have died along the road all alone.
The point of this story is just simply put, “there is no such thing as coincidence” God puts
us right where he needs us. He’s ready to use us, if we are only willing.
The Just for the Unjust
"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
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.
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.
AN EXCEEDING GREAT ARMY
Because of the missing sword
A soldier falls,
When was their birth?
What hastens their death?
Christ paid the debt
He fought with that sword
Till all forces bow…
But for this missing sword
A soldier crumbles,
They are well dressed:
In military attire
But are armed with brass weapons:
With spears and rifles!
Where is the amour, the shield,
the breastplate, the helmet and the sword?
Yet, for the want of that sword
A soldier falters,
On mountain tops,
Hills and valleys:
Day and night;
Toiling, preparing and waiting
To combat the enemy,
But never search for the missing weapon.
Still, for the want of that sword
A soldier dies,
Their camp is ravaged
Each soldier for his dear life;
The night of horror came
The dawn of victory followed
Each soldier remembers the missing weapon
From their hidey-hole, loudly they scream,
“The sword! The sword!! The sword!!!”
Will the sword ever be found?
No army is declared the Champion
Without going through a battle;
No victory is secured
With the parade of cheap weapons;
Then a soldier returns
And... the SWORD was found
Removed from its sheath; and sharpened
To fight the good fight
And take their rightful place
Then a soldier fights,
Now... the SWORD was found
The army of God has risen
With bleeding skin
And broken bones.
Like the dried bones, they are awake:
Covered with the sinews of faith,
And filled with the breath of fire
To thresh mountains
And dominate their enemies.
Then a soldier lives,
The camp is restored
The enemy is destroyed
An exceeding great army has risen
To root out and to pull down
To destroy and to throw down
To build and to plant…
Then a soldier rejoices,
Beneath a flag of red and white
A soldier quietly lies,
His mother sits just to his right
Tears falling from her eyes.
Brothers lie all laid in rows
Around his final bed,
A cross for each one shows
Their names above their heads.
Seven more stand by his side
With rifles standing tall,
Dressed in honor, feeling pride
For this brother who gave all.
One more stands by his feet
A bugle in his hand,
Plays that melody so sweet
Of taps now for this man.
Two more now step up to fold
Old Glory from her pall,
And place it in Mom's hand to hold
A present from us all.
Ten brothers stand by this man's grave
With respect in just suffice,
For this soldier who proudly gave
His life for freedom's price.
Ten brothers came to send him on
To take his final station,
But thousands more sit at home
Giving thanks with the entire nation.
Somewhere, lying overseas
The man who took this life,
Ten buzzards now has he
Giving thanks at his grave site!
Timothy I. Brumley
Dad, why are those men carrying flags?
Because it's a parade
To honor our country
Then the little boy asked,
Were you an Army man?
Yes, I was.
Now look straight ahead to the Flag son.
Why do the Army men in wheelchairs
Have ribbons on their chests?
They're for bravery son
Do you have any?
I wasn't as brave as them.
Now look straight ahead to the Flag son.
Can I be a soldier one day?
Only if you grow up big and strong
Stand tall and straight
Have a steady hand
With good eyes
And aren't afraid
Then you can be a soldier.
Sitting around the kitchen table
Listening to their fathers and uncles talk of the days when they were young
Boys grow up
Listening to the glories of war
Adventure and camaraderie
And guns and things.
Years later another war begins
From old wounds never healed
Young boys become men
And answer the call
During the war
Soldiers slog on
Mired in mud
Deep in fight
They obey this
And do that
But no one wants
To see a soldier
On his back.
Politicians will say
The outcome of war
Rests with the people
But once the war starts
And the killings begin
Politics becomes business
Dirty tricks a diversion
And truth a casualty.
Who is in charge?
No one answers
Reasons not given
Only lies and
And the voice at the top
Has no blame.
But one thing is certain
When all is said
There will be bloodshed and
Ask the old men
Who know about war
And drink to memories of long ago
Boys were led to believe
Stories made of lies
The simple truth
Is fathers lied
And soldiers died.
For years she lived looking over her shoulder
She graduated from the school of hard knocks only to become a street soldier
She always fought with dignity and pride
Along the journey she watched as her street idols died
To society they were only theives, addicts, and hoes
Beneath thier masks lies a story no one knows
Have you ever been there?
Did you walk beside them as they went nowhere?
They are simply victims of thier own pain and affliction
Fighting more each day to stop the haunting of thier own affliction
Demons lurk inside the tainted souls as monsters creep
But I encourage you not to let your faith sleep
Let retired soldiers return to the street
Let them spread the message to all they meet
She always fought with dignity and pride
In her work lies the legacy of the street soldiers who died
She reaches out a gentle hand in hopes to save the broken man
She lives her life to save the lost soul
Maybe someday another street soldier may be made whole
From England's dark blackout
We came to these shores
I and my siblings
In refuge from war.
How enchanted we were
With all we saw.
First Sydney's fine harbour
And her bridge of one span
Then the azure blue sea
The long beaches of sand
The beautiful city lit up at night
To our youthful eyes a wondrous sight.
The Aussie soldier in his famous slouch hat
The long train journey to the far outback
The Cockies screech the Kookaburra's cackle
New sights and sounds for my brain to tackle.
The grazing sheep the fields of wheat
The fun of the master the blistering heat
The long hot summers with respite at the sea
Where we swam and surfed in unspoilt glee.
School days were spent in city or mountain retreat
Strict was the discipline our uniforms neat.
Happy the friendships spacious the grounds
Nuns telling rosary beads flitting around.
With firmness and patience they taught us well
Recreation was announced by the tolling bell.
Oh the joy when the holidays came
What fun we had on the old school train.
It trundled along past wilga and gum
Past meandering creeks and billabongs
Past Emus grazing and Roos hopping along
Through wide open spaces rich in bird song.
At the graceful homestead with veranda surround
Stood the welcoming grandmother so recently found.
With parents far off she gave care and love
How proud we were of her pioneer blood.
She cooked and scrubbed and chopped the wood
She could do everything she really could.
But tragedy stuck
With her soldier son killed.
She grieved and withered and lost her will.
No longer in her life
Would he take part
Months later she died of a broken heart.
There came a time when with many tears
I bade farewell to this life so dear.
I had no choice I had to go.
The years passed on
I missed it all so.
This time when I came
I touched down by plane.
New visions flood my startled brain
Australia I find is absorbed in change
it makes me feel so very strange.
The laid back Aussie with his old world charm
A computer wiz now and amazingly calm.
The coastline is cluttered highrises abound
The noise of the traffic an ugly sound.
But the song of the Bellbird is still a wonder
It soothes my senses as I ponder.
For no land on earth has so much to offer.
So I’ll settle here I will not hover.
Perhaps the maternal ancestors smile from above.
For at last I'm here In the land they loved.
And I'll spend the twilight of my years
In this country I've always held so dear.
Sarah, her two kids in tow
walks in a second-hand shop
for only a second, since she turned
her pocket inside-out yesterday
for a large box of rice crispies
and a half-gallon of 2% milk.
Her old man stopped beating
her three months ago, 'cause
Social Services was on him but
she ain't seen him or any of
his paycheck in about nine weeks
She heard he'd gone to Idaho.
Their daughter, Rachel's been
skippin' school with other kids -
Sarah knows, but doesn't say anything
Jason's hanging near the dumpster out back,
his kinda short-lease home since he got
let outta prison for a possession charge
that he definitely was guilty of, but
he's been clean for three weeks now - almost
Raul's been running the dishwasher and
cleaning up in the bathroom at the fast-fried
chicken place, for three years now
without taking a sick day, although that
cough has been hard to hack for two weeks now.
He hopes the steam from the washer will
kill whatever's in his lungs
Soon Kie shows her green card to anyone to admire.
She has for the last thirty-four years,
but since she arrived back in '80,
when she already had seen more
war and death then most actual soldiers,
she still can't read above a third grade level
She's too busy cleanin' rich houses and
doin' late-night business park office spaces.
Once in awhile, they meet up in twosie's,
maybe more, down at the park,
near the whitewashed howitzer
from WW II government surplus
These are the Veterans of Local Wars
Sloggin' the towns trenches, listenin'
to the deafening blows of indifference,
marching every time they're told to
"Get up 'n' move on, no sleepin' here"
Life is daily skirmishes, the occasional battle,
sometimes being soldiers, sometimes the
innocent citizen victims, cut down, strung up,
strung out, frozen out, sometimes cryin' out
'most every day, wonderin' what life's all about
to have treated 'em this way
Still, sometimes, when they see each other,
they can smile, talk about that time awhile back,
sayin' "did you see what that crazy bastard did!"
laughing at the incongruities and the ironies.
Don't have no medals, don't need no parades.
- just keep movin'
© Goode Guy 2013-05-03