So thick with rain,the rancid air
into the jungle pours.
Young soldiers with their feet on fire
keep on despite the sores.
This war is one that no one wants
and no one understands.
Young men and women give their lives
in these far Asian lands.
Back home these kids are shown disdain;
they're spit upon and worse.
When they come home from Viet Nam
in airports they are cursed.
A blight upon our history
was this long standing war.
But we should show the vets respect
for suffering they bore.
written by Deb Wilson
January 12th, 2013
for contest "Historical Modified Quatrain"
Sometimes, I think about my life
And the prices I have paid
All the places I have been
The choices I have made
Seems somewhere along the path
I stumbled upon a stone
At that moment I realized
I’d forgotten my way home
My home became a prison cell
My memory was forgotten
My soul was like an egg
An egg that had gone rotten
Sorry I had to go away
You didn’t deserve my shame
I moved very far away
No connection to my name
My life has always been a lie
One I kept hidden from you
When you thought I was in college
Serving time up in the zoo
On the day I was released
You thought I graduated
The moment you were most proud
Another lie to be hated
I have learned it’s never to late
I believe those words are true
Grandma I’m on a mission
I will graduate for you
I really want to earn the pride
You gave me so long ago
I think it will bring some peace
Releasing guilt up in my soul
I’ve learned in the game of life
We must earn our pride
Even if the people are gone
Resting on the other side
I’ve learned in the game of life
Even though they may be hard
Choices aren’t like rolling dice
They're not like flipping cards
Choices define who we are
I know these words are true
Every choice I know make
Are bringing me back home to you
Grandma, I know where heaven is
It’s right here inside my heart
Inside of mine your memory
Until death will never part
During the time I have left
I vow to always let it show
All the seeds you sowed in me
I shall nourish as they grow
In the end I’ll sit with you
Just like when I was a boy
We’ll sing and praise Jesus’ name
With eternal everlasting joy
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Black clouds bury the blue skies of Bama overhead
as monstrous winds wipe out towns of southern plain.
From historic antebellum it left a path of dead
in the midst of hail and drenching down-pouring rain.
Ten hours of terror that held the sweet south in its grip
not yielding to warnings since wind motion was quick.
Leveled houses and buildings with just one long dip
leaving nothing to relish of mementos or red brick.
Toys and papers scattered with the dying whirl twist
sending debris to nearby states in massive claws.
Disaster covers barren- lifeless- ground in hail and mist
while residents view destruction that harshly gnaws.
Blind darkness filled the night after the storms once seized
bleak clouds clung, still forbidding stars or moon to shine.
Lives spared but tattered beings were left quite uneased
and not rightly sure where tired bodies could now resign.
Despair fills many counties hit by a ravenous wind
that changed a million lives in a fleeted moment.
Winds of majesty can transform, bringing life to an end
along with frazzled minds and souls in much discontent.
Although lives have been altered and turned inside out
friendship and well wishes are given in great abundance.
It will take patience to rebuild quaint rural towns, no doubt
with God’s and friends help, we still have a fighting chance.
“Sweet Home Alabama, you’re home sweet home to me”!
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I have some choices to face,
But these are not my decisions to make.
God told me what He wants me to do;
He said, "Listen, Son, I have a plan for you."
Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!
Love in His name.
Saved by grace;
I’d left old Kentucky
for a while to roam,
but now the roads call me,
and I’m coming home.
Just me and my pickup -
we’re now headed to
a chilled winter woodland,
the cottage, and you.
Those back roads keep calling.
Old houses with gates
I’m now driving past to
where my darling waits.
I see in the distance
a comforting thing.
Smoke drifts from your chimney
as wind starts to sing.
A down home cooked supper
awaits me tonight
then all-night sweet lovin’
near the warm firelight.
Written by Andrea Dietrich on 10/12/13
in the genre of country music
for the Groove It! Poetry contest of nette onclaud
Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.
I went to war in Vietnam which wasn't my idea
the army never asked for my advice
I slogged on through the jungles there and watched some soldiers die
out country where the farmers grow their rice
The months went by like in a horrid dream of blood and death
and nothing I could say made any change
one mission here. one mission there just made no sense to me
but there was no way it would rearrange
We came to do our duty and to save South Vietnam
from communist incursions from the north
The tunnel rats went into where no one should ever go
And daily, squads were sweeping back and forth
The enemy was everywhere so telling friend from foe
was just about the hardest thing to do
then just about the time you may have thought you had it pegged
some little "friend" would make a fool of you
I finally got home last month, free from an ugly war
but landing at the airport gave me pause
a woman with a little kid called me a nasty name
and spit at me without a hint of cause
This war I did not advocate and never wished to go
I never had a choice in going there
I only wish the people at my home would understand
and put the blame on those who sent us there
I simply cannot understand the hatred aimed at me
for doing what I really thought was right
it seems that people aught to see the reasons why we go
and know that it's our duty makes us fight
A house sits near a calm inspiring pond
A peacefulness exists outside the home
As I walk I can see the white shutters
There’s beauty that I love as I go roam
There is smoke coming out of the chimney
The door, open, allowing people in
The trees sure have the budding of green leaves
This is a tranquil world that does begin
The path carries me beyond this grand sight
I no longer see the lovely home there
The smoke is seen just over the large trees
The lake is gone, but there's joy in the air
Still there’s an aura of the calm and peace
I feel it there in my heart with each step
This sight will always stay deep within me
I feel the heart and love with each footstep
It's like a weight lifted off of my heart;
I am no longer torn apart.
Thank God you are safe;
Everything is okay.
~Mirror in my pocket~
Many years ago my Nana gave to me
A little pocket mirror, and she told me I would see
“See what Nan” I asked looking deep into the smokey glass
“You will see yourself” she smiled, and called me her "lovely lass"
It is a mirror so what did she mean, yet my Nan was very wise
And looking into the mirror, I didn’t recognise my eyes
Is this a trick I asked my Nan, while looking deep into the glass?
No trick lass, just a mirror but take heed of what comes to pass.
I slipped it in my pocket, thanked her and said goodbye
On the journey home I looked into the mirror, and it made me cry
Deep into the smokey glass I peered, but nothing I could see
No reflection of myself and I wondered how that could be.
A woman then looked out of the glass, tears pooled in the saddened eyes
A face that was not my own, it was my Nan to my great surprise
She smiled and disappeared, my own reflection replaced hers there
Shocked and surprised, I replaced the mirror, with tender care.
I reached my home sixty miles away and lifted out the glass
A woman that resembled me smiled, and I wondered what had come to pass
Weeks did pass my mirror became a treasure never left behind
Because when I looked into it, it was of my Nan it did remind.
Then the day, I saw the mirror so grey and full of gloom
I peered into it knowing there was some impending doom
My Nans face appeared, and with tears she mouthed goodbye
That was the day she died, and the day the mirror cried.
The mirror, I keep close, as she did,it means so much to me
I will pass it onto my son when I think he needs to see
To the woman i loved and miss, my reflection changed slow-ly
It’s now the same one looking out, as when my Nan gave the mirror to me.
Time has passed the years have gone, my mirror is smokey grey
I’ll pass it on to my son so he can be ready for the day.
I took heed of the mirror over the years and what comes to pass
I saw that we all grow old and my Nan showed me, with a looking glass.
Home is where your heart is
These words are often used
No matter where you travel
Whichever path you choose
A cheery morning greeting
With sleep still in your eyes
Scrambled eggs for breakfast
Delicious homemade pies
A friendly chat with neighbours
Reviewing the latest news
Tender words of sympathy
On days you're feeling blue
Nothing's more appealing
Than a tasty home cooked meal
The squeal of kiddies' laughter
The happiness that you feel
A comforting hug of sympathy
When you're day is going bad
The cherished words, “I love you”
Which take away the sad
A home is not so much a place
But a reflection of the heart
When you're with the one you love
Your passion is off the charts
© Jack Ellison 2012
I can hear you,
I know you're there,
You can hear me too,
In this home we share.
Are you someone I knew,
Someone from the past,
Can it really be true,
When had I seen you last.
Or did you live here,
A long time ago,
You, I do not fear,
This I hope you know.
Did you just pass away,
Like most people do,
Why do you stay,
Was life taken from you.
Was your life so tragic,
That your spirit will remain,
Just like a trick of magic,
Your form you can regain.
You might watch me at night,
But I never have seen you,
Will I recognize the sight,
As a face that I once knew.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me", themes- spiritual / gothic?
Stop for a moment, to only admire
The wondrous, warm world, where I do reside;
These gigantic trees do serve to inspire,
Notice the beauty, with nothing to hide.
The golden orb shines through neon-clear leaves,
From the canopy falls a single drop
Of dew that is unstirred by any breeze,
landing on my palm with a tiny 'plop'.
Next is the meadow, so spacious and fair,
Filled with daffodils, and fat buzzing bees.
This fantastic scene, tends Nature with care,
Yet Home must I go, now back to the trees,
For with this family, I must be sure,
Found at Home to make a nice, hot breakfast,
Since my love for them, is ever so pure,
So I bid farewell, as I'm Home at last.
Twelve Days Of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas, I gave this to PD
A unicorn with its one horn all shiny, his face full of glee
On the second day of Christmas the unicorn was gone
She rang me and asked me if I could maybe get another one.
On the third day of Christmas I unplugged my telephone
I pretended not to be there, she might think I was not home
On the fourth day of Christmas she came knocking on my door
Come on Goldie she shouted, I am sure you must have more.
On the fifth day of Christmas she gave my door bell five long, long rings
But I didn’t answer it as I had no more of the blasted things
On the sixth day of Christmas I was searching hard for more
I had heard there was a unicorn sale on, but it was some old folklore.
On the seventh day of Christmas my luck came in at last
I found another unicorn but at its very best it was past
On the eighth day of Christmas I sent him directly to PD
She was so delighted she decided to ring and thank me.
On the ninth day of Christmas she sent to me a card
She realised I must have been busy, at a task that was very hard.
On the tenth day of Christmas her unicorn left once more
Poor PD was bereft, she was crying on the floor.
So remember if you love a unicorn so much that it makes you cry
You cannot take him home with you he has his own home to which he must fly.
© 20/12/2012 ~GG~
The little sextant was diverse
to have position on the Earth.
While going in circles 'round the sun
and seeing all for what it's worth.
It shot through space
and saw the stars.
It passed through Heaven
paired with Mars.
It spun in groups
much like our own.
Through some not quite:
and lesser known.
In time it passed
our way again.
come home to men.
While those who watched
and wondered why,
would only say
that we're going by.
Once I had a little car.
I loved her oh so much,
But she was murdered by a man,
Who drove a big Dodge truck.
I looked around and finally found,
A car to take her place.
Who knew behind her pretty face,
The engine'd been laid waste.
She coughed and choked and gagged until,
She spit up chunks of carbon.
My husband bought her anyway.
He said that could be pardoned.
He said it was a minor thing.
He'd fix it right away.
It turned into a major bill,
That wouldn't go away.
It spent more time in the garage,
Than it did on the road,
And we were told to sell it soon,
For soon we'd need it towed.
Whoever'd worked under the hood,
For certain must be manic,
For from the looks of things in there,
He was no mechanic.
I felt so down, I'd spent so much,
This thing could not be worse.
I felt for sure that in this car,
I drove under some curse.
The ties broke as I drove it home.
I went right in the ditch.
I swear before we bought this car,
It was owned by a witch.
Actually what happened when the ties broke I was driving home on the back roads to keep it out of trouble. Suddenly the steering went all weird on me and I jumped a ditch and took out about 100yds. of some poor farmer's fence, barely missed runnning over a dog and finally made it home dragging about half a mile of barbed wire tangled under the car.
That tore it.
I didn't want that car anymore and refused to drive it again.Couldn't anyway. The ties were gone.
For Driving Me Crazy Contest by Paula Swanson
Turmoil looms over private skies
Thick with fog firmly affixed to a bedroom ceiling
Though squinting escapes clarity's eyes
Of love and hate in the brotherly cloud of feelings
Of flesh and blood consumed with rage
Over jealous tirades turned warriors gun
As woeful stains turn the scrapbook page
On a mothers memories of her sons
Must steps so steep decline to this
For boys to prove they're men
To stand a savior when comes a crisis
Yet left but a splinter his heart he'll rend
One brute one tongue thrice will leave
A mothers love the referee
Her tug-rope heart torn from anxiety
Caught in the crossfire of sibling rivalry
A crystal tear center stage
On the battleground that began with play
So it falls till you reach that age
When you learn the wisdom of walking away
I've come back home a different man
so many years have past
Ambition lured me far from home
and dreams they didn’t last
When I left home I never knew
what life was all about
The quest to find my niche in life…
assumed it’d all work out
My path to glory found dead ends
I struggled for so long
Another face inside the crowd
How did it all go wrong?
In time old memories spoke to me
when I was all alone
And in the end a still small voice
said Son, you should go home
Through the laden branches, how it glows
I wonder if they are waiting there for me?
A light unlike the others I have known
Is shining through a clearing in the trees
I wonder if they can hear what I can hear?
As the night wind whistles winter lullabies
Resounding breezes sing of miracles
And clouds begin to gather in the skies
There is ice upon the river rushing by
With frost upon the windows white as foam
The windshield wipers keep rhythm of a tune
And seem to chant a song of coming home
I hear my heartbeat beating like a drum
As the snow begins to fall to winter's song
Awaken all my loved ones, here I come!
My heart is back again where it belongs....
For Kim's Contest: "Here We Come A-Caroling"
Marian gets around just fine
Although she prefers to stay home
That's where her Heart belongs
Never much of one to roam
Church on some Sundays
The grocery store and a restaurant or two
Are the places Marian goes
But only when she has to
Marian's got her collection of spoons
From everywhere everyone else has been
And looks up those places in an atlas
Puts a little dot there with a pen
No, Marian doesn't drive
She prefers to stay home
It's where her Heart belongs
It's where she's never alone
Marian doesn't drive
Never been on a big ol' jet
But she's traveled halfway around the world
And isn't quite done yet
Marian's Faith, Love, Hope and imagination take her
Where no car or plane ever will
My Grandma is an inspiration to me
From right there in her home on top the hill
All the years of Love and Laughter
Fill Marians home with memories
And keep her company
With thoughts of her 8 sons, a daughter and their families
No, Marian doesn't drive
Never been on a big ol' jet
But when she makes her way to Heaven
It'll be without one single regret
© 2011 Kevin Stock
Beauty of the house out in the country
Exceeds that of normal Earthly bounty
The sky, a yellow hue, brings the reds in
Having light produce warmth onto our skin
The fields are plentiful, a lovely green
Where the best flowers grow, they can be seen
There’s a dirt path that leads in a forest
That will bring you to a stream that’s grandest
The driveway winds around trees through the yard
The ground at times can surely be quite hard
The pond houses many beautiful fish
On the porch we eat ice cream in a dish
We have gardens of healthy vegetables
Plus those of fruit trees and vines in bundles
Flowers adorn the sides of the farm house
The front door is red and invites my spouse
Our house in the country is full of life
Showing nothing that brings a lot of strife
I feel at home more here than anywhere
There is a peace here, an aura of care
Through my eyes I see a home of old
If it could speak what would I be told
Would it be stories of joy or sadness and hurt
Will I ever be told before it's crumbled to dirt
Below a saddened sky amidst fields of dry
Could this be reason as I wonder why
Barren lands as the eye can see
Is this the answer that's in front of me
A dilapidated fence with wire of old
No more are the beasts that were in safety hold
Hedgerows so brittle in decaying cascade
Here nature has spoken with her typical tirade
Through my eyes I see a home of old
If it could speak what would I be told
Death is never lasting as I look to my right
For a greened tree prospers, it gives me light
When that feeling rushes in-
I don't know what to do with my life-
I need to search from within
And look up toward the light.
My longest stay has been a year
Of grinding time in lowest gear.
Asylums say the stay today
Is three months run then on their way.
So please don't ask me why oh why?
Do mad young ones choose youth to die
For I've learned not a single grain
Insightful to my own insane.
But madness dragged me back inside
To blackness wrapped in suicide,
When my dear friend, quite mad at best,
Chose 42 for his last rest.
His life depression won the day
As it took my sweet muse away.
Then next a friend from Vietnam
When ten years home was one night gone;
In Nam his pistol worn in sight
While flying Hueys to the fight
To pluck up soldiers stuck in mire
Then fly too high for hostile fire;
While fighting fires in his own mind;
Bipolar fires we both did find
Should play no part of our war game
But soon became its roaring flame.
He used his gun's one round to quell
His screamin' demon head from hell.
hero till the day he died,
Is still a Nam caused suicide.
No matter when or where the fall,
Their names belong upon the wall;
How many Vets their balls still bent
Died prone alone on cold cement?
The naked act and will to kill
Brought some men home for killin' still,
Like those who went with troubled souls
Found napalm lies too full of holes.
A gallant soldier fights till dead
Too often for past lies he's fed.
Now who among you disagrees
That horrid wars fill histories.
No matter where or what you do
Some leaders find a war for you
To fight until that war is done
But what then do you tell your son?
As we leave every century
Still bleeding with hostility
Can insights deep within the Yin
Begin the Yang's defeat of sin?
A BUTTERFLIGHT’S MR. RIGHT
Last night was television and going to sleep at eight
You were exhausted even though it wasn’t very late
So upon your pillow placed placidly lay comforted by soft
Until your weakened eyes closed and dreams lifted you aloft
In the dream you can’t really fly but it feels as if you do
Everything was vivid, the violet, the green and the blue
Flowers were everywhere and you cherished each one
While subconsciously you prayed this dream would never be done
Little children’s laughter echoed through the city where ever you went
And when angels whispered in your ear you knew not what they meant
You were headed for Mrs. Lopez’s little bodega where everything’s on sale
And she always has an amusing anecdote and laughs at herself after each tale
Milk, eggs, bread, butter and all that’s essential
And then the angels whispered, “this day has potential”
You headed home confused by what the seraphim had said
But in reality you were sleeping snuggled in the warmth of your bed
So back to the dream and it’s glorious end
With nary a scene no one need mend
You finished purchasing everything you’ve penned
Alas on the way home you dropped a package and a handsome man said “Pardon me but I’ve
a hand to lend”
And suddenly you recall what the angels said and you began to understand
And pictured this perfect pair sitting atop a dune carved out of sand
It was either the Mediterranean or the Caspian Sea
As you walked shoeless and he whispered, my sweet, it’s just you and me
With a wink and a yawn you awake in the very same bed
But still wondering about those angels and what they had said
Still you arose to shed lingerie for a lovely little skirt and a sweater
You tell yourself it was just a dream but reality would be much better
So that morning you were walking to work still wondering all along
It doesn’t matter what those angels said because even they can be wrong
Suddenly you drop your briefcase when you see a handsome man begin to bend
And then those angels made your Mr. Right say, “Pardon me, but I’ve a hand to lend”
Girl, the worst kind of butterfly to be is in a collection smooshed between two panes of glass in
someone‘s beautiful collection …..don’t let happen to you!
Returning to fields rimmed by golden stones
Just there I hear the movements that arise
From August tides lapping; I'm not alone
While rosy daylight cuddles my warm sighs
My hometown blooms again with fine décor
Wildflowers peeping through the lush fairways
As blue-eyed jays trip slowly on the shore
Towards the sand dunes, waking all my days.