Best Warhope Poems


A Letter Home Never Sent.

A letter home never to arrive. 

Dear Mom 

I can"t as usual say much, 
But I am good and feeling well. 
We are on this crazy mission, 
It involves the most strange of military personnel. 

They are without doubt a strange and mad outfit, 
But they wear the same combats, 
We are supposed to keep them safe, 
They go by the name The Tunnel Rats. 

They go beneath the ground 
Searching Charlie out. 
Tunnels have been found 
Where the enemy can almost walk about. 

These guys really are quite mental, 
Sometimes the tunnels collapse 
Other times they don"t come back 
We think because of traps. 

Anyhow, I aint had to kill nobody yet 
Though I have fired off my gun. 
I kinda hope it was my volley 
That made them critters run! 

R and R is good 
They fill us up with steaks 
And I thank you for the lotion 
It really helps my aches. 

Hope big Sis is well 
An the beauty parlour"'"s busy , 
I bet the fact there is no young men left 
Is sending her in a tizzy! 

Tell Paw my nerve is holding fine 
An I hope I make him proud, 
This War it will be won 
I shout that out so loud! 

The other day I spoke some words, 
To a Tunnel Rat, man he made me think, 
He said that when he was beneath the ground 
He swore he could hear Charlie blink. 

Well, what more can I say 
Apart from I love you Mom, 
I hope to hear from you soon 
Your loving son 

Tom. 

Thomas Elliott was killed 
In action November fifth 
1969.

Potency and Strength - Part 3

We live, we die, we love, we hate. 
We laugh, we cry, we work, we sleep,
What makes us wake with satisfaction is our hope.
Our hope to live happy and free, 
Our hope that tomorrow we will love, 
Our hope that tomorrow will be another day,... a good day.
That day,.. I promise, will come. 
We will live again in harmony and peace.

Premium Member Musings From a Foxhole

The sergeant volunteered me for guard this cold and moonless night.
I was rushed to the front as a new replacement addin' to my plight.
I don't even know the sergeant's name and I doubt that he knows mine.
The only friend I have is my rifle as I stand guard along the Rhine.

The snow keeps pilin' up and my foxhole is damp and cold.
If the enemy overruns my position I'm not to surrender I was told.
Great chance I have with my rifle to fend off a charge by Tiger tanks!
But in the army you do what you're told when in the lowly ranks!

If the Hun crosses no-man's land and we are suddenly attacked,
I sure do hope I don't let my buddies down and fail to react.
Lord, I pray for courage as about me bullets and bombs assail.
Can I kill or maim another man?  Lord, I pray Thy mercy will prevail!

I'm so cold and hungry - how I long for a boilin' cup of joe.
I ain't had a hot meal for nigh on a week since I left Bordeaux.
My feet and hands are ice - I ain't slept for about three days.
Like an old veteran, already I'm developin' that thousand-yard gaze.

It's a danged good thing I ain't runnin' this doggone war.
I'd put them politicians on the line - I bet there'd be no more gore!
I just hope I can survive this army life and get back to the farm.
Shucks!  I'm a peaceful feller and don't mean no one any harm!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


World At War

World At War

Men charge to the front line
Screaming, weeping
As they fight for there life

In the back row 
I stand and fight
Like any other man
Gun in hand
And eye through sight

Terminal blows
Here and there
Our line is broken
Scattered everywhere

He’s on the move again
There’s just no hope for my men

The Solders below
Take the tremendous blows
From the unknown force
Hidden in the meadows

Found again,
I shall begin your end
With one shot to the head
You will fall dead

Most are gone
Their spirits free
The fight not lost
All hopes on me

Hidden in the trees
No hope for you now
That was your last breath
Before you hit the ground
My job done, I run again
Victory, now in our hands.

Letters From Someone You Loved

Dearest love,
I hope this message finds you well,
I only hope I don't die
before I find my way to you
in this letter form I must lye.

Bombs are my goodnight hug
and riffle shot my lullaby;
deaths my goodnight kiss
and war scenes my dreams high.

It's funny how I live in monotony
yet they say expect the unsuspected
as gun shots whiz by
we know, our lives by death have been accepted.

Boys cry for mommy
as their lives bleed away
and it seems the ink I write you in
is their blood after each day.

My love I hope soon to return
to once again be with you my beloved
and hope you can still find me as you look in my eyes
and recognize me as someone you once loved.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace