Best Korean War Poems
(This is a universal story of mother’s sacrifice for their children, be it material, emotional, or intellectual.)
It was during the Korean War
Father was taken away by the Communists
Months ago
He never returned
Mother and I were left alone
In an island as refugees
Without anyone supporting us
One day
Mother brought a cup of rice
For me to eat
Only three spoonful
In the cup
I gobbled it up
Without much thought
Feeling still hungry
Mother took the cup in the kitchen
Closed the door
Through a crack
I saw Mother scraping
Scraping the bottom of the cup
For a few grains left
She licked the spoon over and over
How long has she been hungry
To feed me?
I froze
Really froze
I quietly left the room
To a beach nearby
Looking at the horizon
Where ocean met the sky
Far far away
Wanting to swim
Toward it
Until my strength
Sapped to nil
So that Mother didn't have to
Feed another mouth
Then a question surfaced
Will she be happy without me
So she can feed herself?
No way
Was my answer
She has already lost
Many of her loved ones
Without me
She will not go on living
I stood
With my heart filled with
Opposing forces
Resumed my walk
Toward Mother
Well, you asked for it so here goes!
I'm five-feet, eight inches tall from scalp to toes.
Born October 1930 in Indiana - so there, I've revealed my age.
I'm blessed with great health even at this elder stage.
Happily married to my dear Vera for 62 wonderful years,
And we've met life's vicissitudes with laughter and some tears.
Two daughters Leanna and Leslie but, alas, lost Mark, our boy.
Through the years they've brought Vera and me so much joy!
I'm blessed with 6 grandchildren and 4 great grands.
(I hope to stick around for more as my family expands.)
Enlisted at age 17 in the Air Force in 1948 retiring in 1978.
Assigned to Morocco, Germany and Japan which was great!
I 'fought' the Korean War in Bermuda dodging sea shells.
Met Vera in Bermuda and in Texas we rang those wedding bells!
Retired as a Chief Master Sergeant, the top Air Force enlisted grade.
'Twas a challenging, exciting life and I'm sure glad that I stayed.
While in the Air Force I earned a degree in Justice Administration,
And upon Air Force retirement became a Colorado Bailiff for my vocation.
I like folks who keep their word, are punctual and I don't suffer jerks gladly!
Me and the Lord are working on this but I have very little patience, sadly.
I love God, family and nation and enjoy writing poetry and even though,
I've penned nearly 1200, alas, as a bard I've made very little dough!
I like steak and taters and a sip of Beringers White Zinfindel now and then,
And going to Cripple Creek to play the one-armed bandit when I can.
Sorry if I bored you but once I began writing the words just seemed to flow.
Now, you probably know more about me than you ever wanted to know!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Regina Riddle's "Bio Poem" Contest
A Little Hill in Arlington
There’s a little hill in Arlington
Where no bodies are interred
Yet crosses dot the hillside
And Taps are sometimes heard
Unlike the Unknown Soldier
With “unknowns” in the ground
This little hill in Arlington
Is for soldiers never found
I grew up without a father
He was gone when I was four
Flying for the Air Force
Back in the Korean War
His plane was ore’ the Azores
When communications ceased
The search went on for days and days
They never found a piece
My mother raised four children
Each day she learned to cope
She said until a body’s found
We’d never give up hope
The years went by just waiting
And my mother, bless her soul
Held on until her very end
To a grieving widow’s role
For fifty years we children
Had no resting place for Dad
No gravesite and no marker
No closure ever had
Then on little hill in Arlington
Where no bodies are interred
We raised a simple white cross
Dad’s Taps were finally heard
My big sister got the folded flag
And we all shed the tears
That had been bottled up inside us
For all those fifty years
Now Dad, he has a resting place
With other fallen sons
On a quiet little hillside
Right here in Arlington
Many are the 'characters' I met while serving my nation.
Seems there's always one who stands out in every organization!
In Bermuda (where I fought the Korean War) was such a cuss.
He was my bunkmate and he went by the name of Gus!
Gus was the old man of the outfit, a staff sergeant as I recall.
He'd been up and down the ranks and boozing caused his fall!
Never to be promoted beyond 'staff'', he was happy with his lot.
Gus floated on cloud nine as long as he had his daily tot!
Near payday, funds depleted, out of booze, in a nervous funk,
He'd surreptitiously place this beseechng note upon my bunk:
"My boy, may I propose for your benevolent consideration,
A temporary loan for relief from my dire financial situation?"
Now, how could I deny his plea phrased in such flowing verse!
Besides, on payday, he'd promptly seek me out to reimburse!
On paydays, Gus and his pals were wont to go on a spree!
He'd relieve his bloated bladder nigh any convenient tree,
Proclaming, "Wherever you may be let your water flow free!"
(For some reason the local constables happened to disagree!)
Gus was a good man and I enjoyed our comradely association,
Despite his innate proclivity for intemperate intoxication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Crushed by WII
Brutal arms of Japan
Father in prison
Brother in heaven
But I marched on
Crushed by Korean War
Brutal arms of North
Goodbye, Father
See you in heaven
But I marched on
Crushed by hunger
Refugee in an island
Fish swam all around
No net to catch
But I marched on
Penniless in America
Land of abundance
Thirsty and hungry
To climb a mountain top
But I marched on
Yes, I was crushed
By wars
By hunger
By penniless
But I have marched on
Knowing
I have peace in my heart
I have freedom in my heart
I have gold mine in my heart
Nothing can touch them
I believe
Because I don’t know
I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west
I know spring follows summer
Summer follows autumn
Then winter
But do I know God exists?
No, I don’t
That's why I believe
Why do you believe?
Because it gives me hope
It gives me strength
To march on with my life
My mother believed
She lost first three babies
Even before they could walk and talk
During WWII
She lost her son when he was 15
He volunteered to join Japanese army
To save his father from prison
After the war he came home injured
And died a year later
After liberation from Japan
His oldest son was labelled a communist
In the democratic south
Police harrased her
Day and night
'Where is your son hiding?'
'I don't know, Sir'
Was her only reply
During the Korean War
She saw her husband walking away
Between two soldiers
Never to return
All through her married years
She was harassed by Japanese police
Harassed by North Korean soldiers
Harassed by South Korean police
But she marched on
With her head straight
Her heart in compassion
She prayed without ceasing
Asking God for strength
To march on with her travails
She lived to ninety two long years
And left this world
With smile on her face
"We are the Dead. Short days ago.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved, and now we lie.
In Flanders fields. "
Quote By _ John McCrae (Flanders Fields)
on the eleventh month, on the eleventh day, at the eleventh hour
under a blue hazy sky in my city
we honored those who answered the call and died
for the peace and freedom that we enjoy today
we have a beautiful war monument and statue
and a tomb of the unknown soldier
that we treasure everyday not just on November eleventh
all the wars are engraved in stone
World War I, World War II, The Korean War, Afghanistan
and it honors the peacekeepers who lost their life's also
the sound of the bands, the parade of branches of the military
the 21-gun salute, and the jet fly over, and the choir singing
the pipers and trumpet, breaks the silence of those standing tall
and when it is over everyone removes their poppies
and places them on the tomb of the unknown soldier
like red tears cascading
____________________
November 11, 2022
Submitted to the contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon, Mile 25
sponsor, Mark Toney
Kindness is smile
Kindness is helping hand
Kindness is encouraging words
Kindness is glue that bind us
First year in America
I had a teacher in high school
Miss Rouelle was her name
She used her lunch hours
To teach me English
Good morning, she said
I looked at her
Not knowing how to respond
She smiled
Repeat what I just said
Good morning
She told me to write about
My father and mother
My brothers and sisters
My country during WWII and Korean War
I wrote in broken English
She returned my writings
With corrections all over
But she never laughed at how I wrote
Instead, she said
Your writing is improving everyday
It happened more than 60 years ago
I still carry my deep gratitude
To Miss Rouelle
Who used her lunch hours
To teach me English
Thank you, Miss Rouelle
Thank you for your kindness
Published by Poetry Explosion of PA
In Loving Memory of my Dad, Peter J. Mariotti
He left this world on May 9, 2011. I miss him so.
50 Years-Korean War
Dad, you were one of the foot soldiers,
When the Korean War began,
You were among the many to fight
In this foreign land,
You went bravely into battle,
Because our country told you to go,
You didn’t ask any questions
You just went to fight the foe,
North Korea was Communist,
South Korea was not,
The country had been split
After World War II,
Now American boys were fighting
On Korean soil,
The South Koreans needed help from
The Red, White and Blue
Dad, you were a hero,
You served our country well,
Now after 50 years
You finally were able to tell,
The story of your war
And the misery you saw,
The Korean War had been forgotten
But now at long last,
It will be remembered,
As an important part of our past.
Love always
Celine Rose Mariotti
Son, I'm so proud that you elected to serve in the United States Marines.
Military service is a family tradition - it just happens to be in our genes!
Your forefathers have worn the uniform since the genesis of this nation.
All were privileged to serve, feeling that it was their solemn obligation!
One of your distant relatives served as a lieutenant in The Revolution.
He lost an arm at Brandywine to boost this nation's glorious evolution!
A soldier on your mother's side was a sergeant in the Battle of New Orleans.
In letters he told of subsisting on meager rations of rancid pork and beans!
A grandfather shouldered a musket in the Mexican War affair.
Another, a corporal of cavalry in the Union Army served with elegant flair!
In the Spanish-American fray, one of your kin charged up San Juan Hill.
Your great grandpa led a platoon in World War One with consummate skill!
Your granddad was a fighter pilot in the South Pacific and became an ace,
And he later soared as an astronaut through the vast reaches of space!
I was privileged to serve as an army chaplain during the Korean War.
Your Aunt Sarah served with distinction in Viet Nam with the Nurses Corps!
So, you see son, you have a distinguished heritage upon which to build,
Serving all humankind to ensure that our quest for liberty is fulfilled!
Godspeed, Marine! Here's my old wartime copy of the Twenty-Third Psalm.
When assailed from all sides, it will provide you with great solace and calm!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in Gail Doyle's "Writing A Heartfelt Poem To A Soldier" Contest
July 2012
My soul filled with pride and my eyes misted as the parade passed in review.
'Twas the annual hometown Veterans Day Parade that I was privileged to view.
Veterans, young and old marched behind the flag that they vowed to defend.
They sacrificed so much to uphold the liberties we enjoy in this land!
A Medal of Honor recipient served as Marshal for the parade.
Lively music provided by the local high school band was played.
An honor guard led the procession with Old Glory held high.
Old veterans along the street saluted with a proud tear in their eye!
There were survivors from the December 1941 Pearl Harbor Affair.
No doubt this day recalled memories of comrades who yet lie sleeping there.
Grizzled heroes of The Battle of the Bulge marched proudly with resolute stride.
Wearers of the Purple Heart rode aboard a float with heads held high with pride!
A company of Korean War vets marched representing the war in which they served.
Viet Nam vets received long overdue plaudits from the crowd they so well deserved.
Young men and women still on active duty, some barely out of their teens,
Represented the Army, Navy, Coast Guard, Air Force and United States Marines!
Those gnarled hands that once held the terrible weapons of war,
Now beckoned for peace that we shall know war no more.
The hardships they suffered for liberty's sake we shall never know.
So much, so very much to each of these brave men and women we owe!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A Warrior's Blood In His Old Age
Warriors bled, most now are dead and gone
tales read of blood, guts and dried bone.
Those that found residing in sad old age
were few comforts for lost youth's bitter rage!
Tired of waiting for another call to arms
not satisfied by women's alluring charms.
Holding onto craziness of courageous times
of forays into dark lands and hot desert climes!
Waiting for last mark on a white tombstone
resting in quiet solitude, shadows all alone.
Warriors bled and gave away such brave hearts
You will not find that on any military charts!
We that fought not should see deep sacrifices
thus consider the costs and bloody prices.
Such they see in vivid dreams of and battle cries
are memories honored with that heavy sigh!
Warriors bled, most now are dead and gone
tales read of blood, guts and dried bone.
Those that found residing in sad old age
were few comforts for lost youth's bitter rage!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-18-2016
Note- Dedicated to two of my deceased friends, now gone but not forgotten!
Both decorated combat veterans, one in the Korean War, the other in the Vietnam War and to all their military brethren that have sacrificed so much in order that we may live free...
SON OF SEOUL
Child presses sweet head to her,
While mother holds fast to him
Man busses forehead, soft lips tight
‘Gainst acorn-colored skin.
From ashes G.I. soldiers rose
To souls of Seoul set free.
Much taller than the rest, one stood
‘Bove war-torched Calvary.
And drifting now to streets of home
And bird-song tones of voice,
Her heart aches for freedom sounds.
Her sentence, Life, was choice.
Hiding loneliness in a treasure chest
Her soldier man won't find,
She forever bleeds for Seoul's sweet spice
to free her captured mind.
This child on her lap had been
Her altar-offering hope
That life could rupture forth again
Through scourge of blood and smoke.
But images of her home dissolve
As Soldier-shell draws in
And presses tight dead lips against
Her acorn-colored skin.
Poppies lay on cenotaphs
for heroes that died in the wars,
they gave their lives for all of us
that's the reason, what they died for.
The fallen heroes lie
in every one of our hearts,
each year that passes by
we never let them part.
Not only the first and second world wars
but, in the Gulf and Afghanistan as well,
all of these fallen soldiers are remembered
went and are still going through a torturous hell.
The Korean War and Vietnam
can not be forgotten, at all,
those soldiers gave their lives
heroes died watching another fall.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Nov.11/2007
This is about our Canadian soldiers. May they forever be remembered.
Reminiscent of the America I Knew
Seventy years have come and gone as though
it was a watch in the night,
and if we would choose to turn back the clock
we can’t even if we tried with all of our might.
I was born right after WWII ended
in a time of buildup in our now and forever changed land,
but it was a short lived peace with hope and dreams that
would soon be dashed as we entered another war because of aggression in Korea’s land.
I remember I was a small girl as I read on daddy’s newspaper the big headlines
stating the Korean War has ended it was posted on the front page,
though I didn’t realize all of the implications behind that statement
I must have known that my daddy in this war at least would not be engaged.
There were soft summer nights of neighborhood fun as we kids
would play night games till about 10 p.m.,
we would run home and get washed up and into our beds
and then after being rested up and we would start it all over again.
It was a time when radio and television were fun and all would be listening and watching Father’s Knows Best and Let it to Beaver because they were sweet and clean,
and not having to worry about language that was not suitable and sex outside
of marriage and trying to keep it all safe for your children in decency.
The children did a lot of fun things then, climbing trees, hopscotch, Red Rover
and marbles just to name a few,
the boys playing cowboys and Indians, baseball, basketball
and bb guns providing they didn’t aim them at you.
In those gentler times, women and girls were safe
within their own public or private restrooms,
because the men and boys for the most part knew their limits
and respected them as part of their early manhood grooming.
Families in those days had a father and a mother who instilled decency
into the hearts of their child,
and only a few in my classes at school back then
had ever chosen to run wild.
So what am I trying to say in this poem
that I feel needs to so badly to be said,
America, America how far you have strayed and fallen and the light
you once had has gone out and now simply put, it appears to be dead.
Written by:
Marilyn S. Jennings
May 2, 2016