Best Warsoldier Poems
I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.
As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.
My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.
As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.
As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not,
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
pain-free.
*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."
I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.
A fine mist, hovers close to the ground,
But it cannot be a fog.
It cannot be, it's a hundred and three,
This is desert, not a bog.
Strain as I may, I still cannot see,
The earth, that lies beneath.
Until a man, comes into view,
He gently sets a wreath.
My camera softly clicks, but once,
At the Solemn view,
I caught his eye, he walked my way,
And whispered " who are you"
I said, I'm taking photographs,
To chronicle this fight,
Just then, the mist began to clear,
My eyes beheld the sight,
For what happened here, the night before,
The worst I had ever seen.
I could not bring myself to shoot,
I just could not believe,
The soldier pointed out a patch,
On a dead mans arm,
The Stars and Stripes,smeared with blood,
Protects me from all harms.
I bowed my head, tears filled my eyes,
At the carnage I did see,
These men and women lying here,
Bravely died for me.
As I raised my head, to thank him,
The soldier with the wreath,
He briskly turned, stood up straight,
I could barely breath,
He raised a stiff hand, to his brim,
Slowly let it fall,
Then suddenly he disappeared,
If not there at all.
I walked among the fallen troops,
Looked down, could not believe,
The soldier that lay below me,
Was the one that set the wreath.
To the Soldiers of Desert Storm
It took time for the soldier to realize,
that no one was truly self-sufficient,
after the raids and the bombings, hunger materialized,
and life seemed insufficient,
the villagers took refuge in a form of weakness,
as they watched their government fail,
and their lives sail,
unable to ask for any kind of help or guidance,
because of their own blood trail,
left by strangers in their land,
as most of these bystanders
become prisoners to a foreign command,
these thoughts flashed through the soldiers head,
as he walked around the countless dead,
he fought so many wars and won,
and he knew when another war starts,
they’ll take his son,
he gazed at the sleeping form of an old woman,
wrapped in a filthy sheet,
as she rocked nervously on the side of the street,
and small children huddled together,
and it appeared they haven’t had a bite to eat,
they simply watched and waited,
and for the most part,
that’s what the soldier hated,
these sights tugged at his heart,
but he was just following the chains of command,
there were whispered exchanges,
but he knew God would somehow understand.
Holding back his tears
In front of him, a soldier kneels
As the mourners look on saddened
Inside the little boy feels
To grow up without his father
As he grows up without his friend
To play ball with him in the park
When he needs him, so much to depend
To be there through out his school life
To make him oh so proud
But not to be there when he graduates
Clapping and shouting out loud
To be there when he gets married
Be a grandfather to his kids
At his fathers funeral he attends
His life in battle rid
In front the soldier kneels
Holding the Stars and Stripes
Presenting it to the little boy
Holding back his tears, from his eyes
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php
She once walked with him and stopped with him
when they heard that familiar refrain.
She'd stand beside him while he'd salute
her pride for her Soldier was plain,
and every night,
while he'd hold her tight
contented and happy, she'd sigh.
They would drift off to sleep
listening to the beat
of the Soldiers Lullaby.
They play the National Anthem
to fill us with fire and pride
and the last one they play every evening
is the Soldiers Lullaby.
Twice a day at nine eleven
when her Soldier was in Iraq
she'd bow her head in silence
to remember that September attack,
and when she'd get home in the evening
tired and lonely, she'd cry.
She'd pray that somewhere he was listening
to the Soldiers Lullaby.
Now she stands at the gate in the airport
heart pounding as Soldiers stream by,
so excited she can barely contain it
overwhelmed she's starting to cry,
and the crowd is beginning to thin now
the tears and the laughter all die,
heart broken and lonely, she stands there
when she hears his voice simply say "hi"...
It's been years since she's thought of that moment,
they've been busy with life passing by.
Two girls and two boys
now fill their lives with joy
and time really does seem to fly,
but at night when she's tucked in her family
she still bows her head with a sigh
and she never forgets to remember
The Soldiers Lullaby.
~For Jenn with love
America’s greatness is not marble or stone
But the soldier who’s willing to stand all alone
Out on their post with weapon in hand
Protecting the people of this great land
America’s greatness wears Army Green
Or the clothes of a sailor, Air Force or Marine
Their background is Asian, Hispanic or Black
Mixed or Caucasian they all have your back
And they’ll take their position and they’ll hold their ground
Protecting your life and all those around
For America’s greatness is not marble or stone
But the soldier who’s ready to lay down his own
The soul of a soldier it keeps marching on...from battles behind to battles beyond
As blood soaks the soil life seeds sprout from death
protecting stray sheep
protecting lost lambs
As bullets hit helmets and they die in their boots
Still the soul of a soldier fights for freedom and truth
The soul of a soldier never once counts the cost
Obeying their orders...only counting what's left and never what's lost
paying the price with life,love and limbs
Doing Gods work with hard and holy hands
Bringing beauty to ugliness and peace in war lands
The soul of a soldier...past,present and future
With missions to stop the worlds cold chaos creatures
From psychopathic preachers in pulpits
To demon driven demigods
From Hussiens to HItlers
Josef Stalins to Jim jones
Through Blood and bones and bravery
With courage they kill cowardice and bring joy to misery
The soul of a soldier never rests or relents cause there's always more battles as the
day never ends
with the sun on the horizon and the moon still hovers
The souls of those soldiers are like prophets of power
Fold the flag
Triangular show
Country contain me
And soldier no more
Place in a box
In three corners neat
Over the mantle
In silent entreat
How many knew him
How many cared
Was madness that slew him
And madness that dared
Where will it end
And where will it go
A lifetime has ended
And soldier no more
Spirit inside it
And never unfold
Defender behind us
A story untold
Is life better now
That we have made death
Did justice prevail
Or did it digress
The story should tell
A sacrifice made
But history dictates
And debts go unpaid
Trapped
Waiting all alone
Fear gripping his insides
The soldier waits for them to come
Bringing with them
What he knows will be his death
The others have all left
For safer ground they say
They explained it was of courage
As they pay tribute to his memory
When really it was of fear
The soldier waits in the tower
Sweat dripping as the enemies approach
He waits and watches in hidden safety
Screaming within his mind
His muscles pull taught with determination
As he decides how he will face his death
Charging in he screams,
As the bullets hit
Form:
He was a warrior
Brave and true
An American soldier
Of World War II
Many battles he did see
On the frontlines of Germany
He fought with pride
He fought with strength
His friends of war
He did defend
He saved the lives
Of soldiers and Jews
Every life saved
His intent was true
His honor and glory on the
Battlefield did shine
His faithfulness to his country
Will live for all time
He was a proud soldier
Strong and true
A soldier who loved
Both me and you
For our freedom
He did fight
To make sure all of our
Days would be bright
To this soldier both
Brave and strong
To our Grandfather
Who is now gone
Your love and honor
Will always live on
Form:
There will come a time
Maybe today, or tomorrow
Where a soldier of fortune
Will gloat in his sorrow
For his trackers and he
On a mission to tame
Will hunt him down
And leave him in maim
Through the wires of code
In binary bite
This soldier of fortune
Will, with all his might
Where will he start
It's for his prey to guess
When he knocks on his door
Instant distress
Before he is taken
A justice is served
For some times in this world
Some things are deserved
He is handed over to their FBI
In the land of the free, their justice he's tried
For if he was left, with the soldier of fortune
He would remember that day
His day of misfortune
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-4.php