Best Military Poems | Poetry

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New Military Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Military poems are below this new poems list.

Military Awards and Medals by Horn, James
Military Will March by Horn, James
A SON IN MILITARY by jannat, Mawra
Military Combat Clothes by Lee Sr., James Edward
Military Spread Thin Again by Horn, James
Women in Military Service for America Memorial by flats, lim'rik
A Military Brat by Horn, James
A Military wife's goodbye by Trejo, Michael
MILITARY COP-OUT by Reeves, Terry
Marching Against Military NonSolutions by Dillenbeck, Gerald

View all new Military Poems

The Best Military Poems

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One Master

I signed a contract with the state
to use my body as they will.
My mind they did manipulate.
In the name of freedom, I would kill.

I never questioned right or wrong.
Obeyed all orders without thought.
I strove to be Army strong.
My loyalty and heart were bought.

The flag I served flew overhead.
My uniform bespoke my pride.
A true soldier born and bred,
I marched on while others died.

As time went on, before my eyes,
I saw a different point of view.
I prayed to God my soul baptize,
wash clean my sins, be born anew.

I threw down my master's glove.
I left the life of blood and sword.
My orders still come from above,
but now I serve the Lord.

July 5, 2015


Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2015


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I was a Soldier

I was a Soldier

I was a soldier many years ago,
How time flies, where did it go.
To many places I was deployed,
Never too long before I was sent,
To fix things electrical was my bent.
I saw no action, that's how it was to be.
No matter where I was,no medals for me
I signed up to serve, wherever I was sent.
Invalided out, from FARELF I came,
No hero's welcome, just a whole lot of pain.
Didn't want Civvy life, thought it was a drag.
I guess it had the edge on a body bag.
I see guys coming home, leaving limbs behind,
A struggle to get help for their case do they find.
I see a disgrace on this government today,
They sent our best to fight in lands far away.
Our young fought and died in some foreign affray,
When you see them homeless,out on the street,
Let your heart go out to them as you hear them cry.
Because there but for fortune, go you or go I.

© Dave Timperley May 2016


Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2016


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In the Dark of the Strand

Marquees bright, and neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
We're holding hands, we're in 'The Strand', red velvet carpets guide us in

Popcorn smokes, .. drinking cokes,...  cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along, in her sarong,... With luscious lips, and cigarettes, 
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips


         'Movietone'  intrudes with news, which puts us in somber mood
         Third-Reich goosesteps  march again,  ... an evil presence in the wind...


Cary Grant , (a news reporter),  loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy.  But Cary loves this ditzy lady.... 

William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold.  The mystery is clearly solved.--  A crimson sun, is rising cold!


        Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where soldiers die


Another night, suspense on chart.  'Correspondent' ,  Joel McCrea. 
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day.  BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way

Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked

----

          It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
           Allied troops are moving tanks.  I wait for you..God give me strength




       I'm in the Strand, within the dark,  there's no one here to hold my hand

       I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio




_____________________________________
For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
11/23/14


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014


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Eyes of Blue

A people persecuted beyond imagination;
To help them he felt, was his obligation.
He joined the army in World War II;
Not knowing his hell would be Eyes of Blue.

When he reached Normandy, the beaches were red.
Crawling over his brothers who lay already dead.
To give this tyrant, this devil his due;
Not knowing his own demons, would be Eyes of Blue.

He rounded a building securing a town;
A young German soldier was just coming round.
He plunged his bayonet, the quicker of the two;
Killing the young soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He knelt down beside him with tears in his eyes;
How long this moment would last, he did not realize.
He closed the eyes as he thought he should do;
Thinking never again to see those Eyes of Blue.

The victor over many in Germany and Japan;
It was always difficult taking life from a man.
None would haunt him, this he now knew;
As long as the soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He died an old man, to heaven he went;
For this honorable soldier, mercy was sent.
First time since the war, so sad but true;
A peaceful sleep, not seeing Eyes of Blue.


Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014


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A Poem for the Fallen 44: A Tribute

Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow, 
They'll be now part of the epic history, 
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony? 
Where we are all thirsty. 

The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death, 
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory, 
When bullets can't do anything for survival, 
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.

They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood, 
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant, 
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game, 
Shooting one's body as if a little toy, 
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them? 
When they will die?

In service, for security the heroes died, 
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty, 
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks, 
Through their eyes, inside their brains.

The agony and heartaches they leave behind, 
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life, 
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times, 
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy, 
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them, 
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same, 
The light will also be now the wall.

All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise, 
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases, 
Repeats the failure of my Country, 
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes 
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!


Copyright © Nebuer Peroy | Year Posted 2015


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Sent To War

A boy barely eighteen was
sent to war in Vietnam.
And like a lamb among wolves
had to prove he was a man.

When it came to kill or die
he showed himself to be brave.
Yet part of him died inside
buried in a shell shocked grave.

Forced to take a human life
he numbed his hurt with cocaine.
And closed his ears to the screams
to keep from going insane.

Having survived this nightmare
he was sent home with his pain.
And the reception he got
hurt him all over again.

Angry people spat on him
there was no hero's parade.
And shunned by his countrymen 
he felt betrayed and afraid.

It's been over fifty years
yet no one has thanked him still.
And he’s accepted in his
heart that no one ever will.


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015


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What Makes A Warrior

I cannot presume
To tell anyone
What a warrior is.

Nor do I claim
To embody any
Of his qualities.

All I offer here
Is a collection
Of impressions
Or meditations.

A warrior is
A state of being;
Armaments
Are mere props.

The only weapon
He might possess
Is implacable resolve
In the face of
Extreme adversity.

A warrior's language
Or internal dialogue
Has no allowance
For the phrase,
"I can't."

All the same,
He discriminates
Between causes 
That are just and
Those that are not.

He determines the
Character, as well as
The time and place
Of his battles, 
Investing himself utterly.

And he remains
Ever prepared
For those who would
Bring their battles 
To him.

Yet a warrior meets life
On its own terms
With no delusions
Of bending it
To his own will.

Self-pity is a 
Useless indulgence,
Yet he has compassion
For the weak; he never
Places himself above
Others, for how can he?

All this being said,
And human nature
Being what it is,
His greatest enemy
May yet be none other
Than himself.






Copyright © Roderick Molasar | Year Posted 2015


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Arlington

Row by row for miles it seems
   perfectly aligned, the white stones rise
Stoic symbols of brave men and women
   a sight that brings tears to our eyes

In irony, a bald eagle rests
   atop a single grave marker
He seems to know that each life snuffed
   leaves our world a bit darker

Changing of the guard
   at the tomb of an unknown warrior
Precise, rigid, respectful
   performed with utmost honor

Who's buried there?
   Fathers, husbands, even wives
This tomb represents all lost in action 
   as they gave their lives 

On the far side of Arlington
   an eternal flame is still aglow
For an assassinated president
   JFK - another war hero

You cannot visit the cemetery
   without shedding tears
For the noble and brave young soldiers
   whose sacrifices secured our years

Yes, years, decades, centuries
   of feeling safe on U.S. shores
Came with the hefty price
   countless casualties of wars

As sunset darkens their resting place
    let’s raise our eyes to the sky
Praying our troops return safely
    and, in peace, the eagle will fly 



July 12, 2014   
*Dedicated to all of the men and women who have preserved our freedom.



Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


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I Died in Her Teardrops

The Iraqi desert was blowing wind
The bullet tore into my heart
My Commander, she had but one arm
She pulled me to the ground
Holding me tight she saw
I would not make the night
So she did what any lover would
She held me tight
Whispered, "soldier I am with you till the end"
My last thought
Was I died in her arm
As her tears drops mixed with mine


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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Fresh Start

A thousand voices
one thousand and one orders
boot camp is over


Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2014


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I'M COMING HOME

As I wave goodbye and walk away the kisses and cuddles from my loved ones still fresh in my mind I set my sights on what will be my new daily grind.  To Afghanistan I flew  to fight for my country, I’m  with my brothers,  never alone,  a promise made to my family.  I’m coming home.
 
Day in day out protecting the base, going on patrol our sole aim, avoiding deaths ugly face.    Living in conditions that are a right state whilst civvies whinge with hate “you joined up so why do you moan”?  I don’t care but if they think they can do better they are welcome to take my place, if they dare. I only know.  I’m coming home.
 
Taking fire,  it’s all go now need to get across this streambed then, “ pow”,  feels like I’ve been punched like a boxer in the final round.  All I can hear now is “man down, man down” will  this be my last sound?  I can see the medics and my mates working on me till I breathe my last as I’m carried from the field under the rotors hurricane blast, it’s finally got through my dome……. I’m coming home.
Now they are all gathered round, family crying, mates recalling the best of  times, the only sound, I’m carried in my union flag draped coffin on my final journey and laid in the ground, no more crying no more sound….. I’m home.


Copyright © tom murray | Year Posted 2014


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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
She can see the “THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS…”
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


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Close Enough To Hear Men's Screams

the fifty cal pierced the tank
flash and bang, it quickly shrank

shrill high screams,so briefly heard,
then comes the death's, savage bird

thus pecked clean; blue eyes and spleen,
not more terrible, death, seen,

and so the night's moon I'd thank
died, I  not, in fiery tank


Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015


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Courage Is A Better Word


Can you imagine our beautiful world without war
Our life's would be so peaceful and tranquil
Until the end of time war will exist, I think
Rest in peace all you brave, courageous fighters
An affair of honor, bravery and valor was yours
Games of strategy, like a game of chess, war games
Every flag waver proud of country and military

In surprise attacks the dead lay broken and shattered
So, a thousand years of history taught nothing

An adventure for the young, no just a power game

Beyond weapons and strategy is raw reality
Evil military battles raging in so many lands today
To the war dead we say thank you, thank you
Thank you for sacrificing your life for us and peace
Every war is about bodies, the more the better
Resolving a war is pretty much impossible, I think

Will war never end in our lifetimes, doubtful
On television we see it roaring on endlessly
Really war is the dumbest way to resolve a dispute
Dead military men and women- we grasp you to our hearts

_____________________
December 19, 2015

Acrostic

For the contest, _____________is a better word
Sponsor, Verlena S. Walker

First Place


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015


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Under The Same Moon -in Afghanistan

Here in violence and in beauty, living under the same moon
The beauty is so ancient, but the present violence here consumes
On one hand Afghanistan is all that it appears
Insurgents here are so deadly; through the land they spread fear
But a turn of that coin, would reveal a much different side
A land which contested the Great Alexander, and ruled by Shahs with pride
With its mighty Hindu Kush, and many rivers at hand
The graveyard of countless empires, its resistance that spans
The brave here fight hard, a fierce gamble, with their inheritance of wealth
Battling the Taliban with an opulence of old grit, using the hands they were dealt
Keeping Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-i Sharif, and the capital -Kabul
Free from tyrannical domination, oppressed by Taliban rule
I’m in awe of these courageous Afghans, this country has come far
This is the Afghanistan which I see, who else will share where they are?



This poem was inspired by "Under The Same Moon" a three way collaboration by Poet Destroyer A, Chris D.Aechtner, and NIKKO P..



Written DEC 2013 in Afghanistan


Copyright © Marquis MC Mills-Cooper | Year Posted 2015


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Oh Albert It's Alice

Oh, Albert its Alice
I missed you today
Many years since you went away 
You left me with orders
To await your return
Oh Albert its Alice 
We had so much to learn 

I remember that summer of 1913
The storm was coming, we had not seen
The sun was shining upon our true love
Do you remember that brooch, with the little white dove?

We kissed on the Station, you had to go
The train steamed you from me – rather too slow
It let me see you drifting away
Oh Albert its Alice, I missed you today

The 4th of November 1917
My sisters’ baby had started to wean 
Your Vera told me you weren't coming home
You had fallen in action, you weren't alone...

...there was Billy, Tommy and Freddie Jones
From red brick houses, from coal heated homes
Escaping the drudge of daily toil
Back to Earth, back to the soil
But Albert its Alice, I missed you today

We kept our promise to always be true
You to me and me to you 
I have kept my life on a single track
Hoping that one day you’d make it back
But Albert its Alice, that train never came
Returning its passengers home safe again

I'm lonely Albert, in this crowded room
Everything’s whizzy, bangy and boom
Things are so different since you left
I'm in a home now “it’s for the best” 
Albert, oh Albert I need you today

Albert its Alice, my looks have now gone 
We lost our daughter and lost our son
I could not conceive without my true love
But I've still got the brooch with the little White dove

Oh, Albert its Alice, I’ll see you soon
I still sing along to our favourite tune
A lifetime of waiting, a lifetime of loss
Oh, Albert its Alice, let’s not be cross

Oh Albert, now, you’re waiting for me
Remember the park? Remember our tree?
It stands at the entrance of Executive Homes
They can’t see our names from their mobile phones
Oh, Albert its Alice, I missed you today

I miss our home, where you lived with me
I called our home ‘The Cherry Tree’
I say “our” home, you've always been there
Oh, Albert you’re with me – you really did care

Oh, Albert its Alice, my tears have been shed
Lying alone in my cold single bed
They put your name on a role of honour
I was very thankful that they would even bother
Oh, Albert if only they’d missed you that day

So here I sit – waiting to go
You all left before me, and I'm now rather slow
My body is old, but my soul is still young
But Albert
Oh, Albert
It was the war that we won 

Oh, Albert its Alice, I’ll join you today.


Copyright © Steve Williams | Year Posted 2014


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To those for war

Paddling through a river you made.
Rowing to your success & fame.
So row!
Paddle through the blood,
The blood of your countries sons.

Watching your people try to swim.
As they fill the river to it's brim.
So stare!
Watch them create the river you row through,
Rowing through all their blood.

Planting your countries flag into a generation.
As you land at your destination.
So sow! 
Plant the metal pole through the shriveled corpses,
The corpses of a dead generation.

Hearing the mothers' cries.
As they stare at all their sons' lives.
So listen!
Hear the tormented wails of agony,
Agony caused by your greed.


Copyright © Steven McDonald | Year Posted 2014


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War field

A soldier in war field
Using both my weapons, 
For I have other soldiers facing defeat, 
For oblivious they were. 

Not only physically, 
But also psychologically, 
Am I in the war field
-I am prepared. 

Different are the wars,
Different are the forms of attacks
-I have to be careful, 
For a family I have back home. 

Many were prepared for war field, 
But only to find that psychologically they faced defeat, 
For not only physically,  but also psychologically are war fields.


Copyright © Loyiso Kibido | Year Posted 2016


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Forever Remember, Lest We Forget

In 1914 those aged between 18 and 55
Had no option or choice in life.
In 1939 those aged between 18 and 44
Had to defend home and fight a world war.

They dug holes in the mud and lived in underground huts,
They had no luxuries and would often see guts.
When it rained, there was no drain, so water filled up to their knees.
A regular sight of dead bodies with no escape from disease.

Unlike yours was their life, so remember thee,
It's a small thing to do for you and me.

Those who lived with machine guns taunting day and night,
In a hole in a field miles away from their life.
Vindication unknown and with no indication if the end was in sight,
Just carry on soldier and fight for your right.

Secure the right of freedom,
Allowed in your kingdom,
As that place is your home.
Home is where the heart is but the futures an unknown.

So we who are now alive and don't face that fate,
Should pay tribute to past generations for doing something that we would hate.

War creates heroes but wars are evil,
In the past people gave their life as a present for present day people.

Men and women of our island, our Empire and our Commonwealth,
As well as our allies that fought for a common want,
That want being the luxury of which we know no different, 
So pay your respects as the past is significant.

So thank you soldier, or the women of the factory 
Your story is unpleasant but is remembered as glory.

We that live now should know our existence is simple,
The lessons of history are what make our lifetime peaceful.

We owe unto you the most priceless of debts,
Those generations who achieved greatness we must not forget.

Our nation as one say "lest we forget".

Our species our planet "lest we forget".


Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2017


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A Soldiers Thoughts

A SOILDERS THOUGHTS

I cannot sleep tonight
rarely can I sleep in the day
My grip is tight and my eyes alert
so you can have a safe place to lay;

There are eyes that watch my every move
eyes of fiery red
Hoping to catch me slip an inch
hoping to see me dead;

From door to door I knock real hard
hoping that they will let let me in
My life in constant danger
as I search for these ruthless men;

Everyone speaks the same 
for it's I who's in a foreign land 
The only difference between right and wrong
is when they raise up their evil hand;

I realize that I am not on vacation
as I stare deep into their mirror
I realize that I have a job to do
And that is to fight against this terror....


Copyright © Edward Hill | Year Posted 2010


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Private Romeo

Romeo Jaxx had a friend for a fool
So he never thought "Baby's in love."
He fought for his rights
and he slept through your dreams
With his self-centred wolverine paralysed
 
Drove out of the camp on a bright summer's day
waving last weekend's pass-out goodbye
Phoned Jenny, then Julie, who never complained
Filled his tank, with the world running dry.
 
Throws off the fatigues now, just too tired to fight,
He will walk to the beat
of another man's drum
sometimes valour's the best part of sin.
With a grin shoves his ring
on the pawnbroker's manicured thumb.
 
Now this story splits down three parallel lines.
My version, the truth and your lies
You saw him conversing with 12-year-old Jim
in myriad tongues, his back to the wind. 
I found him saluting a girl in Key West,
Where admirals croak and malingerers lie.
We both know he broke each old, weary taboo
Well, salmon will leap
when they're straining to die.
 
Maybe Romeo Jaxx is of much sterner stuff
And never was swayed from some destiny's path.
Straight as a die
but the die is now cast,
the cast are now blind
and the blind are aghast.
Our Romeo sees that there's no one ahead
don't tell him, there's no one behind.



Copyright © PV Harrington | Year Posted 2015


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Free at Last

Free at Last
><>
• He thinks back to a time, when he was so young.
M-16 on his shoulder, around his neck dog tags hung
Dense jungles made thin, by what they had sprayed.
His mind  drifts to home, and the places he played.
He thought he was melting, in heat so intense.
His skin bubbled and scorched, did this war make sense?
C-rations his food, his appetite gone.
Becoming so thin, but he had to stay strong!
Numb now to fear, the battle raged on.
Back home they were screaming,"Get out of the Nam"
Hendrix and Dylan, The Stones and The Doors.
His music of choice, during his tours.
Snakes in rice paddy's,snakes in the trees.
Mosquitos so thick, filled with disease.
Rats in bunkers, searching for scraps.
45 automatics, the better rat traps.
Sleeping in shifts, in holes dug chest high.
Claymores out front, M-60's close by.
Shrapnel flying, from rocket attacks.
Diving for cover, no time to relax.
Sneaky little enemy, they called them VC.
Living in tunnels, so hard to see.
Dressed in black, like everyone there.
They were all over, just didn't know where.
Home from it all, he no longer fit in.
So he stayed in a stuper as war raged within.
Three decades of anguish, then came that day.
He was finally rescued, and shown a new way.
A Savior from heaven said give me your pain, give me your sin, let none remain.
I love you, you see, you've suffered too long.
Get under my wing, with me you belong.
His chains were then broken and he was set free.
Free from his sin and PTSD
 Joy fills his heart, where once was just pain.
His love for The Lord, he can not contain.
Thank You Jesus
     Dale M Totten


Copyright © Dale Totten | Year Posted 2016


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To those who fight

Beginning a journey with unseen ends,
Saluting your old life behind, you walk on.
Encasing your love deep in your heart,
Grasping to a single portrait in your hand.

Duty holds your head high,
As your loved ones wave goodbye.
Daily they pray for you 
Hoping to help you make it though.

The sights scar in the head and hand,
No matter how far the land,
Keep thy heart pure,
For love is the cure.

You take up arms with brothers and sisters at your sides.
No gun, no bomb, no bullet, nothing! may break these ties
The strength of you come not through the hours of training
But though offering a hand when your comrades are falling.

May you stand strong in the face of pain,
May you hold the roots close to your heart.
May the sun shine gently upon you daily,
May our love sheild you from hurt.
May you rejoice when you are welcomed home as a hero


Copyright © Elissa Quigley | Year Posted 2017


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They Came Home Today

Listen to poem:
 In Memory of the soldiers brought home
             on 2 June 2016
by Robert (Bob) Moore

They are finally coming home today
those who were left behind
to a different country
and to a different time

the one they left was patriotic
Aussie and True Blue
but now, you could be in strife
if the Aussie Flag you flew

They gave their lives, while fighting for, 
a dream we’ve long forgot
and in a far and distant land
a lonely grave their lot

But now these warriors have returned
to their own pleasant land
just hope that we remember
the reason they took their stand

So you and I could live with freedom
and have peace in our lives each day
a country well worth dying for
in a land so far away

And if they could but look around
I wonder what they’d see
is this why they fought and died
and the future they thought would be
                  Lest We Forget
                      <><><><><>


Copyright © Bob Moore | Year Posted 2016


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The Dying Game

The Dying Game 

Joe Dougherty

 
Fleeting images in the fading light
A whispered voice… "it will be all right"
Evening draws and the shadows blend
Another day's fighting has come to an end

Tensions ease around the fire's light 
Brings a calming peace to the gathering night
Cooling embers in the waning flames
Blissful slumber… it's time out in the game

Thoughts of glory now fade away
When brother vs. brother we did play
They sent the young to pay this debt
Of winless victories and blameless regret

Disparaging chiefs of the burial mounds
Spilt our blood upon this ground
For reasons, not ours to know 
They write off, like a bad floorshow

The old soldiers they gather round
Laying wreaths on hallowed ground
Declare the price as freedom's due
Now simply words that don't ring true

NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game
Now broken souls as home they go
To places they no longer know

The cost they paid in this day's fight
Leave fewer faces in the fire's light
Tear stained eyes that look away
No greater debts could they pay
	
This is more than I bargained for
Shut-up kid, you're in the war
NONE FEAR HERE they all proclaim
Willing pawns in the dying game

6/28/2009


Copyright © Joseph Dougherty | Year Posted 2016