Best Saluted Poems
I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.
It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.
Categories:
saluted, death, father, inspirational, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
He wrapped his arms around me
Never wanting to let go
I gently whispered in his ear
Daddy, when you coming home?
He said I'm off to battle today
To heal the wounded soldiers cries.
I don't know when or if I'll be back
The tears began to flood my eyes.
As father walked away
His smile, it did gleam.
His final words to me
Became but a nightmare within a dream.
The bomb rang out
Through the desert air.
When the dust did settle
They found father there.
The soldiers stood at attention
They saluted their brother goodbye,
And the eagle spread its wings
As a true American soldier, had died.
Categories:
saluted, dad, death, farewell, hero,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . .
Cameras rolling, take one, action!
“How stupid can you be? You’re fired!”
He told a judge quite candidly.
In take two, from his office on Fifth Avenue,
He tweeted, “Nobody has more respect
For women than I do.”
On take three
During a press conference,
“We’ll blow terrorist Al-Baghdadi
Out of existence.”
Then he stood, saluted the flag, and
Ordered General “Mad Dog” to protect the land.
Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . .
They say Doomsday is coming,
Polar caps are melting,
An asteroid just missed us today
Iranians want a bomb
To explode in Armageddon,
And North Korea tested
A long-range missile yesterday.
Both sides are wrong...
Beware, or pay dearly,
To the victor belongs the spoils,
For in the land of the free and
Home of the braves,
A new boss man's in town
Fake news on display...bad men raining down
Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . .
The boss is riding, guns ablaze, shooting at the sun,
Stirring up flames all across America, Russia, and China—
The whole world’s wondering, who's this character?
Wake up and smell the coffee!
Republicans say,
“He's the forty-fifth President today,
Top dog in Washington,
Who can activate the nuclear bomb.”
With the greatest memory around... A double negative caused the problem
He says America will be great again
Then placed a ban on Muslims coming in.
He made it clear to Peña Nieto,
Bad hombres must go,
That a wall on the border
Will stop the illegal immigrant flow
Where is the server and 50,000 emails~ Russia do you know?
Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is…
Categories:
saluted, political, power, presidents day,
Form:
Political Verse
The mighty 3rd to the north did steam,
Chasing a ghost not to be seen
Guard the landing your task assigned,
Quiet the day is to be benign
At dawn the Imperial fleet does appear,
Surprise complete, ranging fire splashes near
Outnumbered and out gunned, duty is clear,
Close the range you must in spite of your fear
Laying smoke, a jagged course you take,
An account of yourselves you will make
Steel your heart and make sure your eye,
For each salvo keeps you alive
Toe-to-toe the battle, you exchange mighty blows,
Triumph impossible, yet into the fray you all go
In perfect rhythm, the mad dance goes on,
As smoke filled gunhouse loads powder and shot
Decks strewn with the dead and dying,
Teams repair to keep the ensign flying
Struck and struck again, yet to point blank you steam,
Hard to port, you cross the “T”
“All guns to fire at the turn, torpedoes away!”
The enemy scatters in disarray
Too late, mortal blows you take
To the deep, no more your enemy to rake
One final salute their captain does render,
For you fought to the death and did not surrender
On this all men do still agree,
These were the finest two hours of Taffy 3
*****************************************
On October 25th, 1944, 3 destroyers and 4 destroyer escorts of Task Force
Taffy 3 engaged a combined force of Imperial Japanese Navy battleships and
cruisers in a 2 hour running gun battle to protect the escort carriers and troop
transports taking part in the Leyte Gulf landings in the Philippines. Two of the
three destroyers and one of the escorts were sunk while sinking three
Japanese heavy cruisers and damaged three more. Due to the fierceness of
the attack, the Japanese fleet retired from the area thinking they had been
attacked by a much larger force. At the outset of the battle, the commanding
officers of these 7 ships, without orders, individually decided to attack and
headed at flank speed to the fight all knowing they would most likely not
survive the day. Almost 1600 did not. In a final act of respect, the commander
of one Japanese cruiser saluted the crew of an American ship that had just
sunk as his ship passed them floating in the water.
Categories:
saluted, courage, inspirational, remember, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Consummated under sheets of inspiration,
Conceived in cryptic dreams,
Created from cloudy concentrations,
The words flowed onto a wrinkled sheet of paper.
I concealed the verse under my pillow,
Entombed beneath my peaceful slumber,
Safe from grating barbarians.
For I do not reside in a steel fortress.
But the poem demanded breath,
And I obliged with wary trepidation.
Exposing naked insights of thought,
To public opinions and consumption.
I was misunderstood in some quarters.
My uneven stanzas documented in dorm rooms,
Lack of rhythm noted in offices,
And style criticized in coffee shops.
But my work was greeted warmly from African savannas,
Treasured in Scotland,
Saluted in London,
And praised from India’s sacred rivers.
In the heartland, school girls knew my name.
Southern belles toasted my talents.
I was pondered over breakfast in Florida,
Embraced in backwoods hamlets.
When I look within,
Searching for the brilliant author,
I question his existence.
The trance, that special state of mind, has passed.
In conscious lucidity I ask the stunning question,
“Who wrote this poem?”
Categories:
saluted, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse
The young man worked quietly
His Dad had been away,
But he was full of emotion
His Dad would return today.
He had carved the wood with perfection
His Dad would be so pleased,
His Mom helped him gather daisies
In the warm September breeze.
The limousine pulled in the drive
The boy saluted the men,
They handed him his country's flag
He felt his heart would never mend.
The velvet box passed to his Mom
As they bowed their heads to pray,
Thankyou for our soldiers
At home, and far away.
That young boy is a man today
And he still feels his loss,
As he watches his son pick daisies
To lay beneath the cross.
Lynn Barany
Categories:
saluted, loss, dad, dad,
Form:
Light Verse
Squeak, squeak, squeak. The sound that resonates in my ears. My existence in orbit around the source of this sound. Every move, in fact, every thought of mine, is associated to this sound. Like a placenta wrapped around a baby's neck, in a mother's womb. Sign of impending horror or remnants of an incident past?
Shining stars in the sky fail to beat the glitter on my chest. A chest once proud, now a frail shadow of loss. All that glitters on my chest is far from gold. A hand that once saluted with honour and pride, now outstretched, palm up, waiting for your largesse. You look at me with disdain.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. I move on
Treasure trove
Insignificant metallic honour
Wheelchair spares
Categories:
saluted, angst, loss,
Form:
Haibun
When I was a child,
I thought like a child, played like a child,
free of worry and stress, innocently happy.
I dreamt of knights and dragons,
of spaceships and adventure,
my Chi clear and peaceful as the sea.
But now roads are diverging in the woods,
a dire beast drags itself toward Bethlehem.
Shall we continue our every day, dealing useless goods?
Or concern us with countless devils, try battle them?
For the end, my friend, is very, very nigh,
whether by alien extermination or asteroid strike,
or underreported, nefariously political, virally thrown die,
our world, old poets and authors saluted, will not end up as we like.
Categories:
saluted, anxiety, betrayal, change, corruption,
Form:
Sonnet
May we be saluted as we stand brave and tall.
For we do not smile into the face of danger, though we brace ready for the brawl.
What is that, that that I see, it's the
Dark Angel glaring down upon me.
Hold still my courage tightly grasped.
Guard it against my building weakness.
Surely my hedge stone of strength falls fast.
For with gaping mouth, my soul's aghast.
O guardian angles where art thou?
Of your essence, I do not see!
Upon you, I trust all that make me
The vivacious heroine I currently-be.
Yet, now I am fallen on bend-of-knee
With mounting weariness, my nerves grow thin.
Windows wide opened reveals stark fear within.
Take charge "my" icy stare frozen sickles brightly glare.
Of this moment of graved aware
Affixed to root a solid mass vital seconds now to pass.
Still no twitch or flick of "foot", all thoughts to flee, all thoughts last.
With outstretched hands grant me my honor.
Of restoring please do not ignore.
Return to me my pride and glory.
On this notion, I do implore.
Do not snatch the life within me.
Release my breathing so it flows free.
Of my name, you do not see.
On the list given unto thee.
Go thy way yonder time to come.
Here now living I’m not done.
~~~Preludes in the poem "Tones"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/tones_1198731
Categories:
saluted, 2nd grade, angel, dark,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Her birth was never trumpeted,
Nor caught any media headlines.
Born to Joachim in very ordinary settings,
Virgin Mary, the simplest of the simple,
Was specially chosen to perform a task divine.
As she grew up, she pledged to keep her body and soul,
Free of all blemish and stains of fleshly desires.
But in her teens, she was betrothed to Joseph,
Perhaps, part of a divine plan.
Did dreams come to nab her sleep, no one knows!
She found joy in prayer and absolute surrender to God.
Once when in silent communion with God,
Hearing the flap of wings overhead, she looked up.
Seeing the flash of blinding light in her dim lit room
She stood in dazzled astonishment,
Not knowing what was about to happen.
Before her, appeared a winged seraph.
A radiant silhouette with such gentleness n’ grace
Its hands raised in benediction,
Saluted Mary and said,
“Blessed art thou amongst women…
……………………………………
The rest she heard in a trance.
Unable to digest what was said,
The girl looked up nonplussed.
Again, it said, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee,
And a son shall be born of thee,
Whom you shall call Jesus.”
“How can this be”,
The question lingered but didn’t ask.
In that nanosecond of a new revelation
Did Mary’s world shatter like glassware?
Or did her virgin womb thrill with new life?
Did she swim in the waters of joyful tidings?
Or gyrate in the sweeping swirl of tidal waves?
For a girl already espoused to a man
In whose dreams his comely form had begun
Flitting in and out,
Was it a moment of silent ravishment?
Or of stupefied bewilderment
Did a dagger cut through her heart?
Or did her soul take wing in flight???
Without questioning,
She surrendered to the will of God,
Thereafter, never wavered nor bemused,
But readied herself for the great task.
Forever she remains a symbol of mercy and love.
Her immaculate grace is reflected on her radiant face.
Her lovely visage having greater beauty than any flower,
Emits sweet fragrance that perfumes our souls.
Remaining ever so pure with no trace of sin,
She is acclaimed by Christians all over the world,
As a symbol of unassailable purity and godly grace!
Categories:
saluted, celebrity, christian, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
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
Categories:
saluted, nostalgiawar, women, old, day,
Form:
Rhyme
(Metrical form of writing worthily represented here in this poem composed by Giorgio Venetopoulos, had remained unpublished.)
The maiden's form diffuses neath the rain
and beautiful she steps around the sage
The mists embrace her dream on this domain
and vernal age.
The autumn raindrops fall, forever thin
They sing the maiden's song that lingers high
She fled to college winters that akin
have gone awry.
She fled above the plains where women sing
The heartfelt painful songs of love that stings
The iron bells of Sunday callings ring
for queens and kings.
Above the castle's walls the coldness casts
and dancing snowflakes fly to years before
where trees saluted his departing masts,
for e'er ashore.
Forsooth her shape outlined above the field
Where flowers blossomed in the air and smiled
The quiet dusk her heart sedately healed
descending mild.
Across their Summer lay the swaths of scythe
the mowing ended and a wedding song
two wraiths recite, thus on the wheatfield lithe
for e'er belong.
© Giorgio A.V. & Gautami Phookan 10-18-2014, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter - Iambic dimeter)
Categories:
saluted, analogy, heart, imagery, metaphor,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
There he stood alone and cold in the dark bare streets
Dressed in rags from hand me downs, & carrier bags on his feet
The hustle of the daily grind constantly passes by
But still he stands & never speaks, or even bats an eye
No-one noticing where he stands or even who he is!
This young homeless soldier now back from war & living on the street
Ten years ago it was different when he left to go to war
Just a boy of 18 was he, when he left his homely shore
A proud mother waved her son goodbye with tears of pride & pain
Not knowing when she will ever see her child, her son again
With pride he saluted his country's flag as he ran with guns & knives
Knowing by the end of the day he would have started taking lives
He saw the death around him, the faces etched in fear
But still he had to shoot that gun until he was given the all clear
The images stayed inside his head for years & years to come
The memories of having to shoot little kids that were using loaded guns
They haunted him all through the day even when he closed his eyes
The sights & the sounds, that were left behind made him unable to live his life
The boys they couldn't help him, he was seen as damaged goods
Kicked from the only life he knew cos his hands could no longer shoot
The life in civvy street was hard, the rules of the game had changed
No orders, no friends, no arms, no men his days were not the same
The normal life just didn't compare to the life he had to serve
His team became just him alone, his orders left unheard
So from the place he stayed, he left & went to that homely shore
No mum to wave him off this time, no fleet to sail anymore
So rocks in carrier bags he filled, & tied them to his feet
Then walked they way his boat had sailed, when he had first joined the fleet
Nobody even missed him, as he walked into that sea
Returning to the life he knew, the deaths, the war, the team
So now on a lonely street he stands, this statue so proud and tall
A silent cold stone soldier representing the men that died for us all
Categories:
saluted, appreciation, hero, patriotic, soldier,
Form:
Man of the sea, why are you departing, forever away,
touching a sail on the ship that glides, fading as a wave?
Winds of seas only waving, hugging flags goodbye for the brave.
The sails of your ship are shyly caressing wind at play.
Sorrow hymn is soaring and the grief is rising to the sky;
requiem of songs under the clouds, reminiscent of your ply.
Beyond depths of the ocean, you only become more silent.
In solitude your hardship; also love was born, peace, and strength.
Waves are rising and bowing - you on the ship as an island.
Urns with homeland's soil are swinging slowly to the rhythm.
Earth was bound with the ribbon of the water behind your ship.
The birds flew down on us, in your books of imagination;
there presiding, noble is spirit of right aspiration,
vivid pictures, distant lands - true landscapes. Now awaits a grief,
helm is free: forward, forward, guide to safety ship in distress;
flee from rocks under water far, after thick fog is dispersed.
The drums are playing long, in your honor, quiet requiem song.
Requiem pageant, dark covered in silence standing, all aboard.
Your noble urns of rest are anxious - saluted with the gong.
Enlighten, we shall carry your thoughts to the sides of the World.
Categories:
saluted, tribute,
Form:
Verse
I suppose that I should apologize
Cutting her off in traffic was unwise
With finger she saluted
Air with vile words polluted
She clearly intended me to chastise
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in BG Gorelick's "Apology Accepted" Contest - December 2010
Categories:
saluted, funny
Form:
Limerick