Best Unknown Soldiers Poems
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.
Connie Moore
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.
At the foot of the unknown soldier
I heard them speak about the past
The generation born after the war
I heard them sing of warfare
Like children recite rhymes
I heard their threats of war
Even from lands abroad
I heard them talk about
Fighting to the last man
As though they knew
The pain of a mother letting her son
Go to fight for the fatherland
Or the anguish of comrades
Falling to foes in battle
And embarking on lonely journeys
Into immortal provinces
The generation born after the surrender
Speak of fanning the embers of war
And lacing the drums hung for decades
They say war is the only path to freedom
Unknown to them that
Men fall like cattle in battle
Where rifles rattle in senseless rage
And men long to return home to
Laugh with families and neighbours for
The gory sight of blood and torn flesh
Is not worth the hopeless glory
The commanders seek
It is not a tale for one’s children
So, when I heard them say the ended war
Needed to be revived because
One clan lays claim to perpetuity
I knew they were oblivious that
Those who started the war
Were absentee members of platoons
Whose children mounted no wagon
Destined for the warfront
Where helpless soldiers turn to dust
While the new generation yet spoke
I heard the voices of many unknown soldiers
On both sides of the fraternal war
Echo from unmarked graves on the battlefield
I heard them ask if the war was a good cause
I heard them ask if any side won the war
I heard them ask if we won freedom
I heard them ask if they were given
Heroes’ burials with the band playing
I heard them ask if those who started the war
Were now satisfied and cared for their kith
I heard them ask if they had not died in vain
And if this generation knew not the woes of war.
Tales of heroes beyond, the normal despair of war’s plight,
Hearing of these stories, make us all quiver, in the night.
Each of them that go to fight, any battle, with all their might,
Universally, they are unknown soldiers, until names are released.
None knows the others, until their soul’s battle, against the beast.
Kings and political heads, never battle, for what they believe.
Never placed in harms way, they send soldiers; Mothers grieve
Only the loyal subjects take on the heat, from what they weave.
We honor, the Unknown Soldier, without any name, to perceive.
Nearer to God, these soldiers are known, here only deceased.
Secure, they have left us all, until the next battle to be fought.
Onward, we keep sending those to die, for what, a thought.
Listen, to all the stories, we hear of bravery, by them all.
Dear sweet Jesus, take them to your father, standing so tall.
I never fought any battle; I fight my battles with expressions.
Each of us must remember, soldiers, in their professions.
Remembering, who they could have been, not just impressions.
WHERE FREEDOM FINDS THE FIRE-Screwed XIII Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
The liberation that resides within burning flames,
creates a disaster of unknown soldiers with no names.
Emancipation of nightmares turning into reality,
such trauma on the front line without any familiarity.
The combatants fight for justice without reservation,
committed to the allegiance with brothers, self preservation.
Fearless warriors breaking through walls of steel,
the discipline remains faithful with robust Navy Seals.
Rugged militants searching for honorable troopers,
a fighter waiting to be found by a dedicated recruiter.
Courage becomes a mission that creates no boundary,
to save our country within mental states of quandary.
Enemy's break through and many soldiers become hero's,
they protect our freedom from disasters like ground zero.
The Privates in the Army teach discipline and respect,
so proud to be an American, what more should we expect?
Freedom comes with a price and too many lives are lost,
so much fear and trepidation when enemy lines are crossed.
All the soldiers are laid to rest in Arlington Cemetery,
for when freedom finds the fire, fighting is necessary.
~Date Written: March 26, 2016~
Once upon a time it was called the Great War
Alright it wasn’t a great war said the dead
Not according to the unknown soldiers
Blown away somewhere out there
That’s war they say
According to the politicians and historians
A memory getting dimmer yet no less sadder
Each passing day from one war to another
Some wars are of a spiritual nature no less a war
I don’t know why the orders were given
that’s for the history books and politicians
Slogans are a distraction like a kiss
From Judas Iscariot
Politicians with Stalin’s grin do it best I fear
With great rhymes hate ends with fate
Not a great war nothing is great about war I think
The sun shone gloriously but no one noticed
They had the last supper of bread and wine
On both sides every side posters and
paintings of Jesus Christ suffering on a cross
When we all know He rose from the dead
Frank Black Blacharczyk
by Maxwell "Max" Sebastian Burchett
One Memorial Day made me consider
The many tombs to unknown soldiers,
In memoriam to the lost
From wars then and now,
Unnamed ghosts.
Is memory of all without any names,
The memory of none?
Surely the names were known to some,
All missed and mourned by a loved one.
All had mothers with pain and grief unknown.
Those who fought for some cause,
Maybe not theirs,
Still paid the price with their lives,
In near and distant wars,
Extinguished in fire.
I know enough of hate,
Of powers’ desire,
To know wars will consume
Without any end
More names for the unknown tomb.
Passchendaele
Morning mist hung over the front line like a dirge,
as far as one could see the landscape was gray as
a German infanterist´s uniform and the few trees
left standing had been hit by shrapnel a thousand
times. Lead heavy stillness no bird flew across this
corner of carnage, but the soldiers had gone and
the dead had been carried away. Farmers moved in-
sons of the land- ploughed fields of sudden death,
and planted seeds. And the soil, rich by the blood
of unknown soldiers, exploded in many hues of green.
Few traces of war left, except for trenches crossing
here and there, but they were a good place for rain
run off when earth got soaked and a place for hares
to hid from the farmer´s shotgun.
Unknown soldier
You are cherished and loved
Unknown believer
You are never forgotten
Unknown man and woman
You are deeply loved
On earth some of us are not known
But in the Kingdom of God we are all known
There are times many of us are alone in our faith
But Jesus is always with us
Unknown soldier
You are cherished and loved
Unknown believer
You are never forgotten
Unknown man and woman
You are deeply loved
It is clear that the eyes of the Lord are on us at all times
We break the cycle of fear because he cares
And prepares the fabric of our growth as
We interact with the world because
The Spirit of God is in all places
By the Grace of God, we move forward
By His Name He rewards us faithful soldier of Jesus Christ
Just beneath a grassy meadow
That one time was a battlefield
Lies the bones of two unknown men
Still clothed in their tattered fatigues
in a shallow unnatural grave.
Unnatural because if buried
With the customary honors
There would have been two separate
grave sites with much deeper holes.
One of the uniforms was gray
In color, the other one blue.
It’s fair to assume that both men
Prayed to god for his own safety
But god does not take sides in war.
Struggling to put face and name together
You passed so long ago it is difficult to recall
Those bright hazel eyes that sparked of life
Dirty blonde hair as it shone in the daylight
Gone in the autumn you fell with the leaves
But you won’t return with the natal of spring
They regret and apologize for wars long over
Now old and crippled time cannot return to me
I have wept at your loss and done nothing
To repay the heavy burdened debt I carry
You were someone’s son and lover
Felled by my eye and bullet.
In similar kind the blood of violent dynasty's
remains distinct without conscience
its empire of centuries
branded hot upon the slave born sweat
and to dictatorship
bring the mind and soul of greed
for in the bestial mouth
ever shall the vampire feed
Better then to rule in heaven
yet still be the Lords of Hell
and give empty promise of redemption
then offer up their lives for sale
By generations of fouled footed print
walk with acid in the barter of flesh
so with hapless reward may acquit
a lifetimes worthless forfeit
for the evil men do is counted replete
beyond love and honour
but to inglorious cause shall bleed their defeat
and so leave their children to suffer
Hate, by its name attest
lead all innocence to corruption
deny the living and lead all to death
then in common dirt to bury them
In laughter's symphony raise their anthem
when in coloured rags
allot the cup of tears for the sustenance of hope
for unknown soldiers entomb
this inconsequential martyrdom
Drag their world to cruelties coldest chill
of all who stand above the flock
and in the career of the heel
seek adulation's throne
with venom their sufferings bemock
the blood of their saviors hang by iron nail
and in the cheering of the raucous mob
construct their prison
and condemned them by the roar of the crowd
Better then to befoul the heavens
and praise the Lords of Hell
this lineage of human excommunication
offers up their Eden for sale
Do they still dig up bodies from
The killing Fields of Flanders,
Bones of those long ago
Enticed and betrayed,
Lost generation, sold and
Slaughtered for no real cause.
Do they inter those bodies
Amongst the precise rows
Of immaculate graves,
Each topped wth it’s
Serene white cross marked
With Number Rank Name,
Or the Unknown Soldiers tombs
For those as yet unidentifed,
Those treated as cannon fodder,
The Butchers’ Bill in life,
To be shamelessly and cynically
Too late honoured in death.
Did they learn any lessons,
Were promises made kept
Or are those Fields of Crosses
Just a sad and mute reminder
Of how easily it could and
Does happen again and again.
Once a year they parade their
National outpourings of grief
While, from the latest leaders
Crocodile tears shed as they take
Their annual break from Calculating
The continued profits of death
A nebula rises unfazed after fission:
after a fractured debate, greed crouching on
the wrinkled noses of rugged bouncers.
In remote history someone was burning itself out.
A black eye surges forward, sings an ode to
championship. Ankles swell up. Veins become
jelly. The thyme is absent. Stink bellows on
your faces. The green pond becomes red; tragedy of wounds.
Speaker in bloody silence quotes the black sun
out of despair. Everything was in disarray.
In mating of souls flesh flew in rage;
a pink river swamped the inmates of tomorrow.
Enough! Time marches on the dead leaves of sorrow.
My candle burns at both ends. Alien moons
keep a watch. Bloodlines are obliterating. We
seek the graves of unknown soldiers!
SATISH VERMA
In Arlington's tomb we tenderly keep,
Unknown soldiers in eternal sleep...
They fought and died for this great land,
Now God is holding them in his hand..
All Americans with precious faces,
Strong boys and men of different races..
They died without their family name,
Unknown, no-one to make their claim....
Did their mothers proudly hold them tight?
And fathers teach them wrong from right?
We often come to place a wreath,
In honor of the men who lie beneath....
We come to mourn and beat the drum,
We call their names... we call Freedom....
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For the Name contest..