Ballad Soldier Poems | Ballad Poems About Soldier

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As I laced up my tennis shoes
I hurried to meet up with you
and ran to find you getting off the bus
And when I saw you standing there
in uniform so debonair
I was hoping everyone would notice us
As you picked up your duffel bag
we walked, and you took off your cap
and put it on my forehead just for fun
And as my curiosity
began to get the best of me
I asked you if you’d ever shot a gun
My mother said that you’d been gone
you’d gone to fight in Vietnam 
I couldn’t have been no more than nine or ten
With pride I walked right next to you
And wondered if you felt it too
Or would you feel anything again?

Copyright © Gayle Rodd | Year Posted 2017

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Old Soldier

Unnoticed, he blends into the grey park bench,
eyes clouded and watering,
permanent tears for friends lost in a trench
not quite enough of a life-time ago.
Will anyone acknowledge him? 
Smile at him? Say hello?
How many people walk past without seeing?
Are they afraid to take a look 
at their future being?
Can see past hands on a walking cane, shaking,
which once held arms straight, which killed
as he dreamed of his mother holding him
close in a muddy field in France, dug in, 
his only perspective – the sky – looking up,
imagining his Victoria Cross moment, 
which never came.
His history has died with those he has loved:
he exists alone now, his life stored in his head,
musty albums in an abandoned attic.
His film is ending, subtitles about to roll,
last moments of anticipation, will his story change 
before the last curtain call?
Was he the star of his own show, his life?
Would that he had been so invisible then, 
in that giant gutter, repelling the end
but now the magnet has turned, 
death - an indecisive friend.
Ninety odd birthday's leave a stuttering heart 
and a once-red poppy, grey.
On a bench, sad fingers trace the brass 
in which his wife's name is interred
hearing aid off so his sweetheart's voice
can be clearly heard.
As there will be no 'hello' today.
That's all he wants. 
A quiet hello.
So he knows he's not already a ghost.

Copyright © Sarah Heath | Year Posted 2016

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Young Soldier

Keep your head up young soldier
For you are one of the chosen ones
So you are a target for ostracism and ridicule 
Keep your feet on the pavement 
and the word of God in your mouth
Your faith shall never waver nor die
Keep your head up young soldier
Wipe those tears from your cheeks
No longer will you be silent
Speak!! Speak!!!!

Copyright © Tiphany Taylor | Year Posted 2016

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Remember Me I Am a Soldier

I'm on my way, to save the day;
On a bus, then on a plane I'm on my way;
to a war to defend an unknown territory
to defend them children, women and men;
fighting for rights and freedoms
while in my hands, arms I'm holding guns;
shooting to defend the rights of others;
the enemy "who am I" to not call them my brother;
Who am I,
Well remember me ahh, yes please, please, won't you please remember these;
Remember ME!!!

Remember me, the soldier whose life I put on the line(s)
to save you from the terrors inside;
of those men whom would have your souls;
Kill you just to have their stores head;
Remember me!
Remember me!
one of the soldier whose life which was placed on the line;
the line of battle, stepping in harms way liken herds of cattle;
walking, marching, running crawling;
does our life's matter we shed blood, wounded and paralyzed for you..
of those men whom would have your souls;
I'm a soldier, well, won't you please just remember,
remember ME;
remember me I'm a soldier;
well you please just remember me when I'm gone;
I'm a soldier, well, won't you please just 
Remember me I am a soldier
and I am on loan for a moment rumors and rumors of wars;
sometime God sanctions battles to fulfill His wishes;
while mothers, son, and daughters are at home washing dishes;
I'm a soldier, well, won't you please just remember
remember ME;
I am fighting, some of us have fallen to promote and sustain our liberties;
I'm a soldier well, won't you please just remember me;
the one you loved holding this gun;
in  the country of an unknown tongue, please don't forget me I'm so alone;
even though I have my fellow soldiers with me;
we are all fighting this battle with our sleeves up;
remember me so that I may make it back home in peace;
that I'd have all my limbs and that I can still speak;
this is why I am here to instill peace;
please, please remember me 
remember me
remember me
I've made it back home
you look down on me and I still can't afford to by a home;
stand for our freedoms overseas now back still so all alone;
I was off to war now I am back;
where this the life get so off track;
stood for our freedom over there and now I am here;
I was off to war now you are treating me so wrong;
a battle hero might as will as die on foreign soil;
all I wanted was to help prevent, back in the states you won't even represent (me)
it's no colored blind by my skin;
only when I wear my camouflage green, do you, will you;
remember me
remember me
to have saved you from the terrors inside;
of those men whom would have your souls;
have murdered with their eyes;
kill you just to have their stories heard
remember me
remember me
remember me
I am a soldier
will you please just remember me when I'm gone;
I'm a soldier, well won't you please just 
remember me
not in my casket
not in the grave
not in disillusion, not dismembered;
embodied nor enslaved;
don't remember me cause I held a rifle, a gun;
don't remember me so that I may make it back home in peace;
Remember me because I AM GOD's SON 
and I belong first to HIM and Jesus
Remember Me I am and will be in the Arms of Jesus
remember me I am a soldier
who will no longer get and be older

Thank you for your service

Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
From the anthology "  Change Is Gonna Come  "

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2017

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Welcome home

Welcome Home

She stood by his grave in a long black veil
They found small remains in his jungle hell.
The honor guard, they all stand tall,
As they hand her a flag for her special wall.

She thought how young when he went away,
He was so proud to be leaving that day.
Now its many years since he's been gone
So she kneeled down and said:
Welcome Home,

OH Welcome Home, Welcome Home
You've marched off to deaths drum.
Some came back, but found darkness there
And it will always be their cross to bear.
So walk with me and carry on.
And know this.....

Welcome Home, Welcome Home
You've been away too damn long.
You've done your time, you've paid your price.
You've felt the pain, you've sacrificed.
I know you’re tired and feel alone
So I say to you,
Welcome Home.

                                              He was awakened by the call one night
A brother’s body was on a midnight flight.
So many times like the times before
He's followed a warrior to a loved one’s door.

So he rode his Harley to the service gate
Where there was a flag draped on a wooden crate.
And down inside laid his gallant bones,
As they passed he said.... 
 Welcome Home,

OH Welcome Home, Welcome Home
You've marched off to deaths drum.
Some came back, but found the darkness there
And it will always be their cross to bear.
So walk with me brother and carry on.
And know this..... 

Welcome Home, Welcome Home
You've been away just too damn long.
You've done your time, you've paid your price.
You've felt the pain, you've sacrificed.
I know you’re tired and feel alone
So I say to you,
Welcome Home.

SFC (ret) Alva Brown

Copyright © alva brown | Year Posted 2016

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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!

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

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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.)

Copyright © Loch David Crane | Year Posted 2014

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Soldier's Mother

Soldier's Mother

Come sit weary mama

How can we honor you best?

Sing praises of him or her?

And when all speeches over,

Still you must continue with that longing

Come grace us with your gaze upon these fields of flowers, yes red flowers

We want you to see our fervent need to thank

Giver of lives who would give theirs

Common mothers do not comprehend

How to raise the brave 

How to show what real freedom is

How a baby face with golden locks will crawl

and giggle and look up with sparkling eyes as they suckle

Life eternally precious and trusting

And we the human race

will never get it right or learn from our mistakes

How must we learn to thrive

and still keep trying with what is left

The ultimate punishment will be paid for our naiveté 

Our foolish mistakes

We must keep trying or we will cease

And the soldiers mother understands like no other

how we long to keep our fences high

And they will go on in their tottling bouncing curls 

to devour freedom as though unending

While the brave ones grow alongside

their destinies unknown but hopeful just the same

We thank you not just today but always

Take my hand sweet soldier’s mama

through the field of memories 

when our little ones played in the sun,

red cheeks burned bright 

Rushing to your arms as they Loved to Live  

and Lived to Love so deeply

Thank You Brave mama 

for we could never deem to repay you

S. Hale

Copyright © Sherry Hale | Year Posted 2015

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Is it quiet enough here in your head? The chaos of the mind has subsided to a dull roar. The battle with self has come to a stalemate. Both sides have withdrawn, not in retreat, but in an attempt to resupply.

The rancid smell of past thoughts permeate your senses. Memories are left strewn across the war-zone, their death stark upon your emotions. It is time to recruit new dreams to send into the fight, to become heroes; or be left for dead on the battlefield in your head.

That the battle could be won says nothing of the war in your soul. It is here that the conflict escalates to nuclear proportions. Even though you hold your fingers over the button, your resolve is smashed. You bring those trembling fingers to your face, wipe the tears, and know you have failed again.

Or is it failure when you live to fight another day? A simple foot soldier in the trenches of yesterday never believes they are the future General of tomorrow. Often you live in the present fight, with tunnel vision focused on the enemy surrounding you. It is hell when you realize that the enemy is only you. But your back is against the wall and you are not accustomed to losing.

And the battle rages on, dreams are shattered against the front lines of reality. The masses engulf the weak; will is broken. The once barren plains now run red with the blood of hope. The skies are clouded with the mists of loss and the scent on the air induces the desire to stop breathing forever.

The last sounds you hear are screams. You never realize that the screams are your own.

Copyright © Evets Pordlaw | Year Posted 2014

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Solider's Change

He marched bravely into battle 
At least a thousand times
But found no way to conquer 
The battles in his mind

Always walking down that lonely road alone
Followed by the shadows of all he’d seen and done
With a fortress built around his heart
That no man could tear down

Isaiah 43:18-19 (NLT)
“But forget all that—it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."

God tears down walls with trumpets
And the sound of His voice
God let him hear Him calling
With a whisper changed his heart

Ephesians 6:11-17 ESV
"Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. ..."

A soldier of Christ
From a solider of men
With the Lamb and the Lion
Forged him into one
He brought him from darkness
And made him a light
Where others find refuge
And the Gospel of Jesus Christ

Copyright © Kathleen Miller | Year Posted 2015

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Misery Laid Upon Soft Kindled Pine

Misery Laid Upon Soft Kindled Pine

The great Judge marks this hour at noon
 bright was this day in month of June.
A kinship richly felt with wooded glen
 saddened by the evil in hearts of men.

A fierce battle for land was fought
 death reigned supreme all for naught.
Blood splashed upon the limbs and leaves
 sorrow grips as each family grieves.

Dead feel not the heat of burning Sun
 no real glory felt by those that won. 
Misery laid upon softly kindled pine
 vultures fly waiting to come to dine! 

The carnage shook the stars on high
 time not given from sweet good-bye.
An unwelcome breeze stings this land
 all for naught, but evil in death's hand!

The great Judge marks this day of pain
 as tears fall ,victims lay in dashing rain.
A new day awaits the glory of hope sent
 forgiveness for the wasted lives spent.

June birds now flutter, renewing song
 lives so saddened move right on along.
Human spirit always racing to survive
 rarely embracing joy of just being alive.

Returning Sun shines upon life and all
 man's fate is to live then greatly fall.
Other journeys await in mystical realms
 many great ships, captains at the helms.

R.J. Lindley
09, 15, 1977

note: I have little memory of why I wrote this one
 back then. Perhaps a book I read, movie I watched 
or blues that wrapped me so often during that time.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

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Greenslopes Greenslopes Army hospital was , For the returned soldiers cos, They needed repatriation, For war causes sickness of, BEWARE Bronco-Don was there again, Suffering trauma and the pain, Till a scan was sought because, THEY Put his head in a vice like grip, Said it wouldn’t hurt a bit Pumped in dye, bad hurt, Tom-Twit, But Johnson didn’t cry, THEY Took his head out of the stocks, HE Grabbed the specialist by his frock, Strangled him right to the floor, “you said it wouldn’t hurt for sure?” near death came as a shock, for doctor macintosh, bad Johnson evermore, his bloody lot, the score, SOMETIMES THE BLOOD GETS HOT, You bastards know whaffor…. Don Johnson

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2014

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Young Soldier

I was a boy not quit seventeen,
I enlisted when I was sixteen…

Wanting to serve my country…

I had no family it was just 
my sister and me…

My mother had died, when
 I was very young, new family
 adopted me…

My sister was also adopted,
 by another family…

As you can see, it was just
 my sister and me…

It wasn’t long before my adopted
 family, first my new father died 
then my new mother, followed him…

She missed him so much, for
 she had a broken heart,
 that wouldn’t mend …

I went to war as a little boy,
 came home a man…

As you see I was just sixteen…

The time was at “Chaute Thierry”,
doing world war one…

As a young man I thought we won… 

Standing behind a cannon as 
it was fired, shell casing discharging 
from the breach, sent hot shrapnel 
and pain into my foot… 

Sent me to hospital where I
 laid in pain, until they treated me, 
sent me home, with crippled foot, 
shrapnel of imbedded in my foot, 
as well as the pain in my foot…

I’ve never been able NOT to work,
 even though I have shrapnel
 in my foot, walk with a limp, and 
have pain in my foot everyday…

Now you can see, that it didn’t
keep me from work…

Though I was wounded during
 war, no purple heart was given
 this boy a young soldier…

Wasn’t until my son wrote our
 Congressman, explaining what had
 happen, and what hadn’t been done…

Took over fifty years, but I got my
 purple heart, thanks to my son for 
what he done…

I would have gone to my grave,
 for I wouldn’t have said anything,
 as I hadn’t for years, for I thought it
 was their job, to recognize what I
 had done…

My family was proud, of what I’d
done, but I feel, that they were more 
proud of me now…

Only told my story a few times,
 mostly to a few close friends, and my
 children, for it was part of history…

Now you know my story, the young 
soldier, just boy…

By Sandra L. Hoban

This poem was written and dedicated to my father who served as an infantry soldier during World War I. This is also dedicated to all those who have served our country and was wounded or lost there life while serving, not just World War I but all wars, conflicts and military police actions.

Copyright © Sandra Hoban | Year Posted 2012

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Poppies of Remembrance

Time, to buy our poppies
To remember once again
remember those who died for us
And those who were just maimed
We must also remember
Those, who lost their loved ones
Mothers, sister’s, daughters
Fathers, brothers, son's
What a lot of us can't imagine
What torment that must be
But they all gave their lives for us
To make our country free
In one hundred years
Two wars some endured
lost fathers in the 1st, sons in the last
This fighting is absurd
And still we send our menfolk
To fight the wars abroad
 Please end this madness
I beg thee dear lord...

We think we're in recession
But do we  really know
The hardships that our grandparents
Suffered against the foe
Bombed out of house and home
Nowhere else to go
Then all neighbours rallied round
To help they were not slow
Rationing came about
For food, for clothes, for fuel
From just scrag ends of meat
Made appetizing gruel
Women took over men’s jobs
In factories, farms and such
Blackouts, sirens, shelters
Hardship there was much 
Army, air force and navy
Were not the only ones
But fire-fighters, nurses, doctors
Air raid wardens, everyone
They all played some part
In winning against the foe
Many lost their lives
A dreadful way to go
Some might say its better
To die instantly my friends
For many, many suffered
In agony till the end
We can’t possibly imagine
What it's like there at the front
Many months of fighting
With no end in sight
In trenches, 
Your comrades all about you lying
Water logged and stinking,
Lying, crying, dying.
So please stand in silence
Remember, remember them 
They fought for our freedom
Our women and our men

Copyright © jacque lee | Year Posted 2008

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Ballad For The Emerald Soldier

A soldier lain in pools of blood,
A soldier of no name,
A dying soul face down in mud,
His mercy is to blame.

Now booming blows are deep below
The Emerald River
In visceral form and bellows
Travelling in shivers

Across the vibrating granite.
Your heart will stop, dear friend,
And you shall see no holy light,
Just darkness with no end.

Now sleep, poor soldier, sleep softly again,
For I shall weep for you and the sins of Man.

Copyright © Tadej Blazic | Year Posted 2014

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Onward Christian Soldier

a cavalcade wept ashore with frenzy like a beastly bus
oblivious of tribes who blissfully dealt without a fuss
triangulated within an ever narrowing pen
contaminated, decimated, eradicated “red” men
once a collection of indigenous separate “nations” 
plucked by invaders who usurped america as their den
releasing poison couched as religion into the air
which indignities true colors became readily clear
when europeans “discoverers” fomented war-fare
to those who found themselves in deadly cross hair
every inch of “new world” grimly rustled in every lair
with deadly piping hot metallic bullets with near
with unfamiliar customs on par with a satyr
without means to escape any direction they did veer
cohesion of unity did annihilate without a trace 
that belonged to those who stood apart as separate race
paraded as “exotic specimens” in some faraway place
bandied about as if some rare refined silken lace
of their rightful home by chicanery tactics base
to banality, effrontery, hostility though dined
with travesty from Europeans whose dreams lined
against so called original occupants who got maligned.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017

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"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....

Copyright © Kristen Marsh | Year Posted 2010

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In Me

In Me

The gray bird landed early morning, before coffee was done, cold greeting, functionary and efficient.
Our service done, friends are no more and others are damaged
No heroes here, just Joe’s with service done.
One foot here the other there, numb at heart.
Carousels of dreams circle round with no brass ring reward.
No path to tell the story, would you believe, who to tell.
To believe my tale, long and short, I think not.

Looking forward into black, no light to see, answer me.
Not wanting to move forward, only wanting to turn back - just one more time.
Numb at heart, spirits abound, not wanting to go down that road, stay straight, and walk the narrow.
Walking round, check here and check there, “Hay Bud ready to go home!”
Home, a distant land far off, a distant memory more than the others.
Safe, from Mr. Charlie dressed in black, my friend nor enemy to bother me.

Why me, why here, why now.
Step here, step there, a second more or less and I am no more.
Why me, why here, why now.
Push it back, straight and narrow, step forward into black.
My heart races with the first step, than the second and a third – not so hard after all.

Three suns passed since leaving the land close to down under.
Each day the task to defend or die, death was busy seven suns ago.
Another step away, another step into black, numb at heart afraid to call home.
Not long ago I looked around seeing nothing, now I see all and fright enters me.
Close the door, keep it secret, all in a day’s pay – tell no one the secrets abound.

Looking forward into black, no light to see, answer me – one step, than two….

Copyright © Walter Hill | Year Posted 2016

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The Battlefront Soldier

Tall and strong;
Always pushing on.
Never once looking back,
Straight up and stiff back.
My heart was and is yours,
But you turned me down and sent me away.
You might be military, baby,
But I don’t care.
Hold me and love me, but leave my heart there.
I want you to be mine, but distance is your barricade with which you hide.
I fear you’ll hide behind it forever,
With or without my dreams.
I see you walking away or standing on enemy lines,
Looking back onto my side of the fence and wondering to cross it or not.
You have your gun, you have your uniform, and you have your armor. 
You doubt me because of what happens with others, and you ignore the others who have succeeded.
Why not give me a chance?
Let me show you I can be who you want.
Ignore just letting me be a distance away. 
Please; please I beg you; don’t walk away and leave me as I am. 

Copyright © Rachael Ni | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

An American Soldier

you gave me light, you gave me life in the American eyes, I represent my colors, i never swallow my pride, you gave me strength and a mind to remember myself, if i fight for my country, will i burn in hell, i have my gun in my holster, it will never be over, cause in the eyes of my family, i will remain a soldier, iam strong iam willing, thoughtful, and forgiving, it hurts to see your face so i use my feelings for healing, heal my woons along with my soul, i live in a world of enemies, gunshots, and terrorists that explode, i live in dream of happiness, and a family that knows ill be coming home, until then i will hide underground, ready for war in the dirt below, this is my life and the defeat i have chosen, i will keep your love in a heart that remains broken, and long lost memories that have been stolen, in my life this pattern of living has caused an explosion, TO AN AMERICAN SOLDIER RESPECT IS WHAT IT MEANS,  

Copyright © Joe Hinojosa | Year Posted 2012