Best Soldier Poems | Poetry
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New Soldier Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Soldier poems are below this new poems list.
The Whistling Soldier
by Miller, Mike
The lost soldier
by Brant, Barbara
Old soldier still battles
by Ochwo-Oburu, Solomon
by Martinez, Johnny
A hopeful soldier
by Ashwin Kumar Iyer, Meghana Shakthi
SURRENDER NOT OLD SOLDIER
by douglas, obinna
Soldier Born and Bred
by Horn, James
by YANU, PRIDE
The Wrong Soldier Taken
by Javens, Hannah
The Ex Soldier, An Allegory
by Cranney, Damian
View all new Soldier Poems
The Best Soldier Poems
Introducing: Nate & Linda
The smile on my lips
is forced and coerced
I pretend to pay attention
give the best possible advice
everyone praises me
I'm so kind, polite and nice
It's all just automation
I rarely actually listen
certainly don't care
all I'm doing
is playing human
I'm so perfectly hidden
you'll never even
see a curtain,
from where I stand
Majoring in social events
Put on a pedestal
for computing with you
I'm so perfectly hidden
smiling from time to time
with all sincerity
Passing along an appeal
continuing to fit in
Is it just me or
am I the perfect human?
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
I lay here today a soldier
I know some don't understand
I will try to explain
So maybe you can
I served my country
For many a year
I retired long ago
The soldier still here
I put on my uniform
I wore it to foreign lands
The soldier I was
Is still in the man
I have been a husband, father, and friend
To some of you here
But I've been a soldier all along
Even after so many a year
My final salute
I render today
I'm still a soldier
I'm just on my way
Copyright © Timothy Emmons | Year Posted 2014
(The Merry Adventures of Robin Good)
Sherwood's Forest legendary, leading man
up, down, tricking eggs between branches
slender, slander, his voice is growing thinner
twisting, turning heads 50 shades of green
Master of disguise reaching for the top archers spot,
A bard, with uncanny precision, ROBIN nonstop
Splitting his opponent LIKE A BOSS!
Aiming arrows, where broken women sit
Creating fantasies, for his band of hypocrites
A serenade, of jealousy and mayhem
A poetic outlaw, generously taking what others earn
Wearing black tights, the hottest profile, sipping wine
A lust beyond Dorthy's Rainbow, a venomous poem
Somewhere, covered in leprechaun's gold
His chest is cold
- Yet warm from all the hands caressing this bard,
He is the best, gravity has no weight on his pen,
A soundless soldier having his way with his sword,
Executing those who challenge him,
Breathing life into many empty accounts
Giving voices and self-encouragement
With no time to drop down this bard from cloud nine
A dissipation of air fresheners and hello's
Painting pain just to pretend it hurts the person
A fragile voice whispering in the shadows
From this hooded bard who carries no face,
A mask of lies, taking what belongs to others.
Robin of honor, graveled by his peasants
MISUNDERSTOOD in every fashion, yet he preys
Pipping dreams away, down an infested rat's path
Shoving Little Johns hopes down the list
Robin is no common criminal, just a bard
Wearing a dark cloak, when in disguise
taking from the greedy --- giving to the needy
Thank you for enjoying my story
Robin Good and his network of Merry Men
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
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
Rising before me, are the graves,.. like the stars
Embracing the light, while reflecting the moon
The fields, vast and silent, ... never ending, the valiant
Of those who had fallen, never knowing how far
Some names forgotten, and some never known
Crosses that grow from the wet grass below me
I have lost count, as my eyes seek horizons
Reflecting on lives of the soldiers, unknown
Deeply I'm falling without knowing how far
Into the depths of the fields that have drawn me
Into reflection and into the questions
Tossed into the sky, without answers to why
My eyes can't believe all the sadness before me
I have lost count and my heart seeks horizons
Reflecting the reason, seeking answers, unknown
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
He Lay Where He Had Fallen.
Enemy Fire Had Brought Him Down.
He Knew His Life Was Over,
As He Lost All Sight and Sound.
He Knew a Peaceful Sleep,
Amidst the Raging Guns of War,
But for Him the Fight Was Over.
He'd Gave His All..And More.
Oh, He Was Not Alone.
Others Have Fallen Too.
And Time Will Not Erase the Fact...
They Fell for Me and You.
We Owe These Men and Women,
For They Never Got Any Older.
We Didn't Even Know Them.
To Most of Us They Were..Unknown Soldiers.
So Rest in Honored Glory,
Each and Every One of You.
You Gave All You Had to Give...
For Freedom and the Red, White and Blue.
Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2013
Unsung Hero – The Soldier
Warily he stood at the corner,
Wondering which way to turn.
A weary smile on his faded brow,
As he held out an old worn-out hat hoping for handouts,
A few miserly pennies or perhaps, even a piece of bread.
This once proud soldier,
Now reduced to being a petty beggar,
Was a remnant of a cruel war;
Where he once stood side-by-side with his comrades
And helplessly watched them fall one-by-one.
Cruel memories haunted his saddened heart,
As he each day he desperately tried to survive,
Wondering if it would have been better
If he too on the bloody battlefield had died -
But there was no real answer.
Maybe it was good that he had done his duty
Fighting for those who couldn’t.
But now he was forgotten and forlorn,
With no honor, no glory,
He was just a nobody.
With warm tears streaming down his cold cheeks,
Even now he thought of his fallen comrades,
Questioning if they were really in a better place -
His thoughts about his tortured past
Continued to cling to him,
Like the tattered coat
He wore during the day,
And used for a pillow at night.
In his mind, he was still on the battlefield,
Only this time he battled invisible foes -
A mind growing feeble, homelessness,
Hunger, loneliness, and most of all –
Not having anyone to love him.
Copyright © Kika Ayala | Year Posted 2014
Veteran’s Day - 2015
with stilled crosses.
at the few who line the streets
to familiar cadence
flag’s half mast history
as Taps resounds
each generation’s tears.
will solemnly descend
who kept her safe.
John G. Lawless
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
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.
Copyright © Bobby Snyder III | Year Posted 2016
They are thanked for their service
by those who never served.
Commended for their bravery
by those who never donned
the colors of the country
the red, the white, the blue.
They are left alone with demons
that only they can name
seek the silent comfort
of those who know the same,
they limp alone in honor
of the men they used to be
slowly turn invisible to
the people they keep free.
In silent nod and gesture
they salute in passing pain
bathed in thanks for service,
awash in tearless rain,
not heroes, only soldiers,
in the shadows without name.
submitted to – Being Invisible – poetry contest
sponsor – SKAT A
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2016
A young man carrying a green duffel bag
over his shoulder shifts when he walks.
Off to war for our country and flag.
No military knowledge with little talk.
Enemy troops marched across the bridge,
with tanks, and hundreds of machine guns led.
As he sat dug in along and across the ridge,
bullets were zipping right over his head.
The dawn of the morning across the glen;
a plan was thought, bargain it was, the loss
of two companies to stop a million men
and ten thousand vehicles from getting across
Pop, pop pop, of distant sounds and then more,
trading volleys of gunfire with blood and gore
A friend gets killed and he dies to the core,
trembling with raging fire. A Casualty of war
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - Canada
We all know you now
You have fallen at our feet
You have guarded them all with life and limb
Noble and brave
Only to fall at a cowards last call
You have stirred the souls of the unknown heroes
Their appall shall seek the just dues of our defamers and saboteurs
Young lads who now welcome you in the hereafter
Shall haunt our enemies from near or afar
The drum rolls sound, as the rifles salute
The Unknown Soldier
You are unknown no more
Notes: In memory of Nathan Cirillo and Patrice Vincent both killed in cold blood on the week of Oct 26, 2014 by cowards in the name of Islam. Nathin Cirillo was standing guard at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
Also in memory to the 1000’s of unknown soldiers, young men, who fought so that we may be free.
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
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
(Innuendo -- Pigs)
All around are sticks and stone
Feel God's loving arms around you
-----At last, I am redeemed-----
A feast of my soul, you shall receive
A cake for dinner, I made out of stones
Ratchet pigs fill their dirty mouths,
Consuming my soul, sipping on champagne
At peace with myself, brushing off the walls
Nevertheless, tonight they speak in tongues
-I strain my ears to listen;
While pettitoes approach my page
I hear the squeals, I hear the chit chat
from he/she that wears no shame.
Am I she, the evil one?
The one you penned -
Under the influence of manipulation
Trying to stifle my voice of beauty
No matter, I am crazy, a dreamer
Never claim to be THE INNOCENT,
The Poet Destroyer!!!
I ignore the walls when they speak
Nevertheless, tonight they have eyes
They watch my every move
A trotters dance, of togetherness
Forgetting the reason we are here
I will win and conquer my privacy
You can't destroy what you can't see
I am the glory of my day
I am God's pet!!!
A Lamb, wearing white
To others a wolf in disguise
Spitting slithers, swear
I am the Devil's Advocate
I marvel how they snort at night
Today I will crash the sore whispering party
You! My friend, no longer exist
You are naught more than cobwebs
You will dream about me, write about me
I will give you ammo, then read it from you.
I will show you what a demon is!
Like the light and envy of every moon
I shall ask my reflection and remove
the residue from hogging lips.
I will watch you urbane the truth
The heat and lust I conquer from you
A font with no reflection, dating apples
Heading away from its own advice
A hard task from its quill, enjoying leftovers
Pinpointing fingers among shallow dreams
It's sickening to see pigs pat each others back
Feeding on my demonic words
Convoying innuendos in my bearing
Now it's my turn, to turn the roaster on
With no interest in removing muddy sheets
I shall smile and walk away
In - joy - my heart beats and smiles
Knowing, I made you look --- AGAIN!!!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
On the green grass I stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As I hear the groan of the injured
Many dead, maimed
Grenade pin pulled
Bunker window we lob
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash, shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
I turn to my brother to signal it's safe
As a shot rings out in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
As I open my eyes and turn to my son
I see what I have as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As I remember my brother
Of whom I was so fond
I proudly walk past, salute as I go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find myself fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014
When my son was small he and his friends loved to play marines
A brown eyed soldier dressed up in his helmet and his jeans
I asked him why he always died whenever they would play
He just said “I saved my friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way”
As he grew up his Mom and I always wondered what he’d be
When he reached high school he enrolled in their ROTC
Once he had finished high school he enlisted without delay
I should have known it all along, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
When he had finished training and became a full marine
I was the proudest father that anyone had ever seen
A brown eyed soldier in full dress not a thread in disarray
Stood proudly there before me, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He eventually got married to a beautiful young wife
And I asked if she was ready for a military life
She just smiled and hugged me tight as she fondly did convey
That nothing could make her prouder, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
One day he told us he must leave for a war had broken out
He wasn’t sure what started it or what it was about
His mother asked if there was any way that he could stay
He told her “Mom, it’s my duty”, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
She said “Son, it’s very dangerous, you could be killed you know”
He said “Mom, if we all stayed home there’d be no one left to go”
“Dad,” he said “If this war is right it’s not for me to say”
But I have to follow orders, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Just recently his wife received a visit and a letter
Our son had died in combat and that there was not a better
Leader in all their company, and that on that fateful day
He’d bravely saved all of his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He left behind a sweet young wife and beautiful little son
We all are very proud of him and everything he’s done
My son did his duty and he is coming home today
In a flag draped wooden coffin, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Some have asked if I’m angry that my only son had to die
I simply smile and shake my head and here is my reply
My friend take a look at all you have around you here this day
You have all of these lovely things, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
My grandson looks just like his Dad in his helmet and his jeans
As he plays out with his buddies, pretending they’re marines
And when he falls and pretends to die, then I know right away
That he has just saved all his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
For William J. Holder
In memory of Jon R. "Sonny" Holder
Died during the Vietnam conflict
Copyright © Stephen Washam | Year Posted 2010
You may see me out on the streets
Lying curled up in a foetal position my sleeping bag in a shop doorway
Trying to get a few hours sleep here in my latest home in cardboard city …
I never stay more than a few nights in one place
can never really settle; these streets aren’t safe
You may see me out on the streets
I’m sitting on the cold damp pavement with an empty coffee cup in my hand
Hoping for a coin or two so I can have some real food in my aching belly
Still you hurry past, trying to avoid making eye contact…
Believe me, it’s so degrading rummaging in the litterbins like a wild animal
But some days it’s the only way I can get any food to eat
The biting cold and wet weather is my worst enemy
I can never get warm even when the sun shines
This is no life, just a way of surviving another day
Guess you think I’m a waster, a dirty tramp
You walk on by; judge me without knowing what lead me to life on the streets
Bet you think I’m a druggie or an alcoholic
I guess most people seem to think that
They see my filthy clothes, straggly hair and grey beard
Just five years ago I was like many of you
I had a career, a beautiful wife, and two lovely children
Spent many months away from home fighting for my country
But then I got sent to Afghanistan…
I saw scenes no man should ever have to witness
I was traumatised
Forever suffering flashbacks of the faces of those innocent people
The children, oh those children – made me think of my two boys back at home
I couldn’t cope any more, had a total mental breakdown
I was a broken man …
My wife could no longer deal with the mood swings , the erratic behaviour
The Army did little to help –
discharged me on health grounds, then basically abandoned me
Now I’ve lost everything … my wife, family, my dignity
Many of the people you see on the streets are like me …
We all have a story to tell, but no one gives us the time of day
Passers-by avert their eyes and hurry past like we are invisible
Your eyes may tell you one thing… but please don’t judge me
Because you don’t know me
Premiere contest #7 Sponsored by Skat A
Contest Any poem meaningful to you
Sponsored By Broken Wings
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
in every fold of the flag
Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2013
Today the bite of frost nibbles
On icy dusk and rain-spun grass
When prayers glide of nighttime down,
As battle strikes your whispers yield
Through ambushed maze drilling around.
Yet heartbeats vow for honor, true
Enduring nights…freedom pursued.
Kismet of hope is in the air
While we all feel your longing thoughts
Miles away…sweet tidings declare
Your dreams fluttering in chilled fall
About scenes of love and dear home’s care.
The rising star a grain of gold
In moments brave soldiers behold.
Then victory blazes in red
Matching the robin as it sings
From soar of peace…from soar of might
A courage blessed through godly will
Heroes return as breaths alight.
The autumn lays her colors by
As wishes crown your promised sky.
Mystic Rose's Write To Our Heroes Contest
~ dedicated to all soldiers
and my father who fought in the war~
by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
¡Vaya con Dios!
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014
Near Saint Avold, France,
More than ten thousand heroes
Whisper from the soil.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
Lasting memories haunt a tearful mind
How distant the dreams that no one owns
Etched marble, another name to remind
Lay in silent fields of flowers and stones
To search for days that will never be
unearth youthful years that quickly passed
To stand in a field where soldiers are free
know their torment is over at last
Eyes flow freely at a stone so cold
Brushing her hand across a marble name
fingers tremble for a son she can't hold
years to live with the pain she'll claim
Handed a flag that eight soldiers fold
Knowing her son will never grow old
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015
He appear to be a ladd of maybe 9 yrs. old. It's Friday, as our troop's prepared to move
out unto enemy territory, and then KABOOM!!...he becomes a suicide bomber. WOW! face-
less at such a young age. Now as I gather my comrade's body parts (as well as my thou-
ght's) to myself I say, "these people's belong in a cage". Pain in Irag, will it ever end, here
children's are taught too kill again & again. Our Boy'zz in misery, misery all around us, the
stinch of death is everywhere. Their fearless leader leads no more. Soon he's capture, "one
would think, finally!! and now answer's of life can be restore, but sadly there's only more
bloodshed here in Irag. And a salacious cloud still hoovers above our heads as the dead
bodie's continue's to rise, another soldier get sent home and familie's shall not be able to
stop the flow of tear's pouring from their eye's. (faceless at such a young age)
Our Boy's and Gal's in misery - here in a country, were there is no love, "A faceless enemy",
we continue to fight. Our Congressmen and Senator's vote to keep this sinceles war going,
"for our freedom", lying to themselve's and to the American people's. "For our Freedom",
"I don't understand-how can freedom be justified with a bullet and a gun". How can Freedom
be (?) when every Saturday you'll be burying your daughter or your son. Someday soon
we do get to go home, from here to a faceless nation. As the dead bodie's continue to rise,
and before the break of dawn starts another day. Your lil 9 year old goes outside to play.
In this land of confusion lil boy's also goes outside, freedom for him is to suicidily kill the
enemy-each and every morning in the name of Allah his mother tells him. So 10 U.S. sold-
ier's live's are gone, more are on the way. Remember their President is dead and gone
while our wants a "Celebration".
P.S.... This particular poem came to me in a dream, as in a dream I was there (in Irag)
holding this soldier who had been shot, and he relate's this particular
poem for me to write:
Copyright © John Streeter | Year Posted 2010
Moans echo across the lands
from the souls who are lost
drifting, searching, seeking
forever doomed to exile.
Some brought down in their prime
foully murdered by sharpened steel
plunged into them with hatred.
Or maybe by plain greed.
Soldiers killed in needless wars
all for the rape of the innocent.
Governments hungry for more
oil, gold and other things.
Yes too, the souls of creatures
many now extinct voice their
sorrow with despairing moans.
That echo into our minds and hearts.
Mingling together they strike fear
that judders in our very being.
As we huddle in our beds shivering
knowing it is us who caused this damage
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
Soldier on my brave friend
one loyalty to bear
it is to this we owe our stock
and for fortune duly share
When dark hours invade our hearts
with no plan for our escape
we will tighten ranks and challenge fear
for the future is ours to shape
Together if we face the brink
of never turning back
may all see one set of prints
left showing from our tracks
To that end what will has forged
we'll finish you and I
together as one to see it through
such loyalty never dies.
Loyalty Contest-Sponsored by Broken Wings
Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2016