Mother Soldier Poems | Mother Poems About Soldier

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Details | Free verse |

Hello Mum

It’s not what she hears that day
No. It’s what she sees, 
The image very nearly killed her
The neighbours say the scream was heard two blocks away
Though she can’t recall hearing what was said

No. It’s what she sees alright
Even to this day, she can feel the envelope
She can see the “WESTERN UNION” through the milky window
What she doesn’t hear, is what the Telegram Boy had to say

She still has the Telegram
Its yellow parchment a little brittle, the typed words 
“HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON…” a little smudged, tears she guesses
Though she doesn’t remember any tears, they came later
Along with the pain of not knowing, and the sorrow of knowing

Then almost a year to that day, it’s not what she hears
But what every mother would want to see
What every mother would want to feel
And every mother would dearly love to hear
“Hello mum, I’m home…”

8 May 2015
Craig Cornish’s Poetry Contest “A Mother’s Ears”

Copyright © Mark Trichet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

My Soldier

My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her
Nothing can replace the person that created you
someone there to help you no matter what you're going through
Someone who formed the person you became
someone who has sheltered you through waves and waves of rain
I can't say it enough, I love you with my whole heart
you're there to put me back together every time I fall apart
My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her
Mama I hope I forever make you proud
but you know I'll always test your patience as much as I'm allowed
I know that you've forgiven all the stupid **** I've done
and you've dealt with so much stress to ensure my childhood was fun
I'm forever grateful for everything you've sacrificed for me
I hope I am that apple that didn't all far from the tree
My mama, ya dove you
put no one above you
life might push and shove you
but I'll always love you
My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her

Copyright © Eric Schojan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Cinquain |


Sobful rarely
Over mature reflex,
Proudly being labeled mother.

Copyright © Maggie Mae McAfee | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epitaph |

The Unknown Soldier

I stand at your grave.
I do not know your name.
I know not where you are from.
Where you fought,
nor where you died.

The horrors and pain you suffered,
were not in vain.
The death and destruction brought you pain.

I weep at your grave,
for the life you gave.
I weep for the Mother,
that gave you that life.

I kneel before your grave.
I bow my head in gratitude to you,
The Unknown Soldier.
Forever Remembered.

Copyright © Gypsyof Essence | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Who would milk the Tigress

Who would milk the Tigress
                				    wears no armour    gasmask
				pail within squat thighs
					nor bloodless forefinger and thumb

Cows wear forlorn looks 
	distressed mien 	
    trailing tarred roadmap streaks
                                                   dry udder tears
          for lost stripes
                     after mynas taken to the hills
    forever abandon torrid flatlands      
                               to the reverberating mockery of magpies

splintered limbs
			split podiyal torn fiber ribs
               jut through mortar-upturned tarmac
         signposts to a lost bickering Peninsula and island children
Adam’s Bridge of Hanuman hordes
     loping to reclaim Sita
                                           ghost-towns where once-fenced-in
palmleaf thatched huts in mud-caked villages husbanded grain
the unswaying palmyra droops with juice heavy nongku

                      the tiger cub teen thrust up
                          in sepoy bayonet salutes
                          thrusts her unsung virtue down
                      blind plunge in backgarden well

        a warrior race of she-cats buried deep behind kitchen smoke

Those who came to milk the cow and drink peace
      eat with hands besplurged with menstrual-blood

Where has the milkmaid gone
	her pail half filled with her brother’s blood

The wombs of Purananuru mothers long dry
	for their sons
untethered tigers longgone from lairs
		their stripes for flags

						Is there a Mughal in Delhi
	fears a Sivaji in Jaffna
		or the ageing monarch in Colombo
			           his Nizam-ul-mulk in Trincomalee
who would have gladly traded his throne
	to an armourless English captain
			armed to The Buddha’s Tooth
Would a Muhammad Shah prepare
	for the coming of a Nadir Shah
     from the far fastnesses of The Middle Kingdom

Whose no-man’s-land
		would skirt the Tiger-lined jungle trails
	see stripes wavering at the cluck of each rubber fruit

				Who would then growl to remind us
		of thunder
	 of righteous anger
						of wayward peoples
      trekking for elbow space
						under the hardy palmyra
         with only the nongku to slake
		sterile trampled soil
    miles and miles of heaving padi-fields
			wreathed in fatigues 
        the lone lithe tigress
					licking her paw sweet 


The historical references hark back to the events preceding the gradual rise under Jehangir’s reign and final collapse of the great Mughal Empire: 1739-54 to 1858 in the Indo-Lanka context. Other references draw on the Sanskrit epic: Ramayana in the Indo-Lanka context. 

-From the privately pub. coll. (re-worked: 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

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

Details | Sonnet |

The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared

The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared

He stared back at his life amazed
a scattering of miracles here and there
many cried out that he was crazed
when he gave that stern look and stare

Back there vast plains loudly waved
forested jungles crept up so very slow
Nature he wanted touched and saved
a tragedy of pain that the angels know

Dry, dead cities awaited his return
the man that set beauty in the blue sky
his life , a tree destined to burn
walking where others feared to even try

A man among men they admired and feared
the best any mother ever birthed and reared!

Robert J. Lindley, 02-27-2015

note:  Dedicated to H D L ....

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Classicism |









from My Mother...
October 11, 2016

Copyright © Robert OBrien | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

The soldier, the war, and I

The soldier, the war, and I

Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..

Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!

And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have, 
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet, 
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.

Copyright © Thoubert Larus | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |

Stalwart sable Sister Soldier

Stalwart Sable Sister Soldier…
(Apropos A Major Home to Bury A Son)

She saw sorrow sadness shadowing shield 
Orbs of cataract visions veiled
In victorious battles of nothingness;
Told to think of the blessings bombings yield; 
That tomorrow the town will rise and manage
If they not waste time pondering the collateral damage.

Once more and again, we are caught
Not between the rock and hard place,
But confused why we have again fought
For the freedom of yet another abused race;

Mr. President, I’ve done what you’ve taught;
I’ve bitten the bullet and spat out the bitter taste;
Now I shall be about that which I now must manage
That you and I not become the future collateral damage.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Brave Soldier

Eleven years ago, my father died.
Divorced from my mother when I was two, 
he was a stranger to me most of my life.
I had no tears as the Marine handed me the flag.
He said, "This is a gift from the President of the
United States in honor of the service that your father
gave to his country". 

Five years ago, as my mother died,
I touched her face and held her hand -
something she never allowed when we were children.
I told her everything was all right
and she could let go.
My eyes were dry, she had no funeral.

Later that year,
my husband packed his suitcase.
He told me of his plans
to find his "spiritual path", and left.
I said nothing and went inside.

But last night, my sweet little Aussie
stumbled and fell, unable to move.
With wide eyes slightly opaque,
her dear face grey around the muzzle,
she told me, its time.

This sweet companion,
faithful and brave, has only asked
for my presence in her life.

This morning, I awoke,
and I cried a  child,
with my mouth open,
eyes streaming,
nose running.

Copyright © Susan Raineri | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |


Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder

Mother has child that father denies
Leaves when his baby lets out those first cries
Excuses flying, lies sailing; words without care
Feelings are complicated so share you don't dare
Lips that smile hold some bruises and a cut
Hands that have done the damage slam the door shut
You watch him out the window glass
Retreating figure gone at last

Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder

Things get harder, mothers fired
Baby is toddler and much too tired
Money is in short supply
If only father would just comply 
To help raise his growing kid
Instead he ran and lost his bid
A single tear stains the cheek
Of a mother's soul who's much too weak

Preach to the full moon soldier 
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder

Mothers dead, everything's blown
Toddler is small child left alone
Father drunk, stumbling back
Custody left to this piece of slack
Days are long and too far gone
Nights are worse, he's never done
Talking his beer scented words speaking
He says to his child be kind, PREACHING

Preach to the full moon soldier 
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder

Small child has developed
Distinguished individual moving up
Swearing to the sky blue
They will be nothing like you
Father in jail thief from the night
Cell lit dimly with pal moonlight
A smile to the grown child
A tear from the man of the wild

Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder

Copyright © devin colomb | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

A Reb's Letter To His Mother

On a lonely rainy day
in June of 1862 a Reb
soldier was barley walking
down the road after
a great battle, when he
came upon a fellow soldier who
was lying in the mud.

He stooped down to listen
to the soldier's final words,

"Mr. he said, I know that
before this hour is over,
I will no longer be here,
so could you please take
this letter or see to it,
that my mama gets it""

      The young man then
passed on.

    The Reb soldier
picked up the letter
and began to read it,

The letter dated June 5, 1862, went as follows,

      Dear Mama

  We are going into battle in a little while and I thought I needed to
write you.  I must tell you mother dear, that I truly belive, I won't be coming out
of this one today.  I will fall in battle and I will die this very day.

I know I told you in my last letter that I would be home for Christimas, but I may
not be able to.  I know that you have worried about me terribly
much mama, but you knew that I wanted to be here more than anything, I believed
in the South's cause and I told you, not to worry, but that yes something could happen.

Mama you taught me to be honest, to read my Bible and to pray everyday, most of all for me
 to obey those that had authority over me, you taught me well, because
I have done all of those things.

    I love you dear mother and I just want to tell you I love you more than any son ever
could love a mother.

Don't be sad, I have
to go now, were getting ready to leave, hope to write you again, if
not I'll see you when you get to heaven,
I will be there to greet you.

                  Love, Your loving son, George,

So the Reb soldier put the letter in his coat and went on his way,
knowing that this letter would be delivered.

Copyright © James Foulk | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? |

fallen Soldier

The call came in today
My son must go and fight,
He wants to do this for his country
Wiping a tear he says he'll be alright.

All the time i pace the floors
My ear glued to the phone,
Many family and friends here
Yet without my son i feel alone.

i watch the news daily
Another brave soldier has died,
Is it possibly someone i know
Thinking of his family i stood  and cried.

Im now trying to gather myself
For they have just sent someone,
Telling me of that tragic day
That brave soldier was my son.

Copyright © Jodie Steward | Year Posted 2006

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Innocence cries

For yes, I have seen it with my own eyes, I have seen it.

They call it by a name, but from the name you'll never comprehend it

Her eyes will never leave mine, her face will haunt me all my life, I guarantee it

Her scream, so painfull, the sound of a soul cry

Rubble and mud and rain and cold

Yes, you can see that I'm alive, but inside now I'm dying

For she was there, right in my sight

A knife she held so tightly by her side

I shouted for her to release the knife

She ran at me screaming

I squeezed the trigger, she fell to her knees

The knife, she dropped beside her bleeding

As I approached she screamed at me a name 

Then said to dig, to dig in the rubble

To dig, she dug with the knife, her nails and fingers broken.

I turned to see the rubble to realise

As I looked back into her eyes

Baby, daughter were her last words alive

So, yes I know where war resides, and I know I'll never find her

A baby killed by war, a mother killed by sacrifice

A baby alone and lost on the other side

So, give me back that bloody knife

And I'll and go and find her.

Copyright © T.I.R.O. JY | Year Posted 2017