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Best Soldier Poems

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Details | Soldier Poem |

Red, White and Blue

He Lay Where He Had Fallen.
Enemy Fire Had Brought Him Down.
He Knew His Life Was Over,
As He Lost All Sight and Sound.

He Knew a Peaceful Sleep,
Amidst the Raging Guns of War,
But for Him the Fight Was Over.
He'd Gave His All..And More.

Oh, He Was Not Alone.
Others Have Fallen Too.
And Time Will Not Erase the Fact...
They Fell for Me and You.

We Owe These Men and Women,
For They Never Got Any Older.
We Didn't Even Know Them.
To Most of Us They Were..Unknown Soldiers.

So Rest in Honored Glory,
Each and Every One of You.
You Gave All You Had to Give...
For Freedom and the Red, White and Blue.

Connie Moore
5 23 93


Details | Soldier Poem |

The little soldier boy

His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.

Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.

His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.

Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.


Details | Soldier Poem |

A faceless enemy (what's there to Celebrate)

He appear to be a ladd of maybe 9 yrs. old.  It's Friday, as our troop's prepared to move
out unto enemy territory, and then KABOOM!!...he becomes a suicide bomber.  WOW! face-
less at such a young age.  Now as I gather my comrade's body parts (as well as my thou-
ght's) to myself I say, "these people's belong in a cage".  Pain in Irag, will it ever end, here
children's are taught too kill again & again.  Our Boy'zz in misery, misery all around us, the
stinch of death is everywhere.  Their fearless leader leads no more.  Soon he's capture, "one
would think, finally!! and now answer's of life can be restore, but sadly there's only more
bloodshed here in Irag.  And a salacious cloud still hoovers above our heads as the dead
bodie's continue's to rise, another soldier get sent home and familie's shall not be able to
stop the flow of tear's pouring from their eye's. (faceless at such a young age)
Our Boy's and Gal's in misery - here in a country, were there is no love, "A faceless enemy",
we continue to fight.  Our Congressmen and Senator's vote to keep this sinceles war going,
"for our freedom", lying to themselve's and to the American people's.  "For our Freedom",
"I don't understand-how can freedom be justified with a bullet and a gun".  How can Freedom
be (?) when every Saturday you'll be burying your daughter or your son.  Someday soon
we do get to go home, from here to a faceless nation.  As the dead bodie's continue to rise,
and before the break of dawn starts another day.  Your lil 9 year old goes outside to play.
In this land of confusion lil boy's also goes outside, freedom for him is to suicidily kill the
enemy-each and every morning in the name of Allah his mother tells him.  So 10 U.S. sold-
ier's live's are gone, more are on the way.  Remember their President is dead and gone
while our wants a "Celebration".

P.S.... This particular poem came to me in a dream, as in a dream I was there (in Irag)
holding this soldier who had been shot, and he relate's this particular
poem for me to write:


Details | Soldier Poem |

A SOLDIER- I WAS

Lonely I was when I stood staring at the sky
Had a gun in my hand, was too afraid to cry
Fought bitter battles and never lived to tell
How at the altar of freedom, my body fell

My soul searches for reasons as to why I died
Did I save my people, had I tried?
Do they remember me, my deeds, my name
Are they proud of me or did I bring them shame

My battered body stood testimony to my fate
My heart had stopped in a battle brought about by hate
I had screamed in pain, and shivered with fright
But before I died, I did put up a fight

Remember me, my beloved country
It was I, my men, who brought you victory
I fought to the last bullet in my gun
I was a soldier, I was your son


Details | Soldier Poem |

White paper boat

White paper boat

Her image fled among the trees
his realness to intercept,
some Christmas day! With scenes inept,
beneath dark clouds and deathward's seize.

A mercenary sergeant was
that fought in wars for many years,
ascertained charge to volunteers,
instructing e'er the warfare laws.

The coffee 'pon the mountain glen,
on twilight time of wintertime,
his Christmas warmed (recalled a chime),
the M16 A4's his friend.

A ranger, served elite brigades,
but couldn't tell how life was lost,
his apparition of a ghost,
that fled to slopes and pure cascades.

He just recalled one Winter morn,
received her mail; on streamlet's banks,
next to the seething tracks of tanks,
he read her vows, on paper worn.

He never knew to phrase response,
and also thought she wouldn't wait;
his quantum was devoid of fate,
proscribing stronghold, Christmas' sconce.

On thawed snow-stream her worn mail goes,
white paper boat, comrade and guard,
his stare kept up, he was shot hard,
upon the snow, two qubits froze.

© 11-22-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Epic, Iambic tetrameter)


Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
Contest Name: CHRISTMAS EPIC POEM

(for definitions, please read the "about the poem" text.)


Details | Soldier Poem |

The Soldiers Lullaby

She once walked with him and stopped with him
when they heard that familiar refrain.
She'd stand beside him while he'd salute
her pride for her Soldier was plain,

and every night, 
while he'd hold her tight
contented and happy, she'd sigh.
They would drift off to sleep
listening to the beat
of the Soldiers Lullaby.

They play the National Anthem
to fill us with fire and pride
and the last one they play every evening
is the Soldiers Lullaby.

Twice a day at nine eleven
when her Soldier was in Iraq
she'd bow her head in silence
to remember that September attack,

and when she'd get home in the evening
tired and lonely, she'd cry.
She'd pray that somewhere he was listening
to the Soldiers Lullaby.

Now she stands at the gate in the airport
heart pounding as Soldiers stream by,
so excited she can barely contain it
overwhelmed she's starting to cry,

and the crowd is beginning to thin now
the tears and the laughter all die,
heart broken and lonely, she stands there
when she hears his voice simply say "hi"...

It's been years since she's thought of that moment,
they've been busy with life passing by.
Two girls and two boys
now fill their lives with joy
and time really does seem to fly,

but at night when she's tucked in her family
she still bows her head with a sigh
and she never forgets to remember
The Soldiers Lullaby.

~For Jenn with love


Details | Soldier Poem |

gun salute








                                                   gun salute~
                                           in every fold of the flag
                                                   his sacrifices    







    



Details | Soldier Poem |

A Soldier's Heart

When there's no one else
look inside yourself
listen to the inner voice
if you have no other choice
depend on yourself and live
and give love if you have nothing else to give
always be strong and be brave
enter your world as if you're entering an abandoned cave
and if you want to climb a mountain that is too high
have the guts even if you die
that  takes a soldier's heart
that will try no matter what
and will never break apart


Details | Soldier Poem |

A Soldier's Letter

"My dear Hannah:  We're camped nigh a town called Gettysburg tonight.
I take pen in hand to write to you, my love, by the flickerin' candlelight.
From afar I hear the beat of Rebel drums preparin' fer battle on the 'morrow.
Oh, my darlin' Hannah!  I ain't never knowed such loneliness and sorrow!"

"How I long to be with you and the children 'round our family hearth.
Ya'all mean the world to me, more than anything else on God's earth!
I recall so many times biddin' a sad farewell at our humble cabin door,
And marchin' off with my home brigade as we faced the cruel war!"

"I'm a-thankin' ye fer the chicken and apple pie you sent last week.
I shared it with my friends - it brightened our day which elsewise was so bleak.
This evenin' I read from my tattered Bible the Twenty-third Psalm.
We shared it many times at our family altar - it gives me such great calm!"

"I 'spect to be comin' home to help bring in the crops later on this fall,
And sit 'round the board to enjoy a bountiful Thanksgivin' with ya'all!
So fatten up old Tom Turkey, make some dressin' and sweet pertaters,
A couple of yer famous punkin pies and serve some fresh termaters!"

"I reckon I'd better close this letter 'cause its a-gittin' purty late.
Pray fer me, Hannah!  I'll leave ever'thing in God's hands as to my fate!
Hug and kiss the children fer me tonight as you tuck them in their bed.
I'll see you soon, dear one. 'Til then, I remain your lovin' husband, Jed."

Alas, the Scythe of Death reaped Jed's soul upon that ghastly field of strife.
The hopes expressed in his poignant letter would ne'er be shared with his wife..
It was found in his tunic pocket as he was lowered in his hallowed grave,
As his comrades honored him for his service and the life he freely gave.

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


Details | Soldier Poem |

Soldier's Regret

I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.

As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.

My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.

As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.

As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not, 
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
pain-free.
 

*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he 
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I 
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."

I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.


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