Best Warwar Poems
I have tasted war and it taste like hell
With the memory of all those who fell.
They said we won, placed medals on me
Fighting for the lady known as liberty.
At night the memories fill my dreams
I’ll never forget all the horrific screams.
My dreams are violence all covered in red
I often wish that I could be dead.
They say I’m a hero but all I can say
I wish the memory would just fade away.
In the name of freedom I went off to fight
in the name of God I pray I was right.
To the spoils of war all I can say
God there must be another way.
I survived the war but passed on the victory dance
Because war is something I shall never romance.
Written for Deborah's contest in honor
of my Son Cody and all the other brave
Souls who face the horrific memories of
war.
Nightmares, jungles, blood on hands
Unjust war in distant lands
Scars that no one else can see
Memories doing battle with his sanity
Off to war, a rich man’s fool
Rich man’s son was off to school
Some came home in boxes, statistics mount
Media smiles announcing body count
Working man’s sons without a voice
Off to war without a choice
Coming home to hate, the fire fanned
Misdirected Anger in his native land
Dismayed with the war, activists groups
Pointing blame at the drafted troops
So many dead through the bloody nights
Protecting rubber trees and oil rights
After the storm, there was no calm
Soldiers coming home from Vietnam.
Dedicate to Vietnam vets who served valiantly,
unappreciated at home
We gave Johnny a gun and a uniform
Trained him to kill, in a regiment conform
Sent him deep into Vietnam jungles warm
With little regard to how we did him harm
So certain we knew what we joined to fight for
We were shipped off to fight an unwinnable war
A war of "containment," unlike those before
Mothers screamed, fathers wept, siblings ached to the core
By parachute dropped to a ghastly death scene
Johnny ached for the life left behind, so serene
His family, fiance did not know what war means
Especially the haunting of lost children's screams
Those of us who survived thought we'd just done our jobs
We returned and were shamed by violent gobs
Of silver-spoon white kids in hate-spewing mobs
Spat-on and welcomed as baby-killer slobs
No heroes welcome would await these young men
No ticker-tape parades were staged for them
Just jeers from crowds, uncaring government
Greeted the lonely Vietnam Veteran
Too classy and noble to demand our fair share
We lay in that shabby old hospital there
In a closet-sized room with no visitors' chair
Understaffed, underfunded, with short-handed care
The "benefits" they found would astound all now
And it leaves one to wonder how our hallowed ground
Would be filled with unnamed graves of men once proud
Before the rows of white crosses we should bow
Our Wailing-Wall stands now in Washington, D.C.
So shiny but black, a telling-tale of the fee
We have paid for our nation, our land of the free
Will you come pay respects? Will you not at last see?
Some veterans still suffer disgraceful neglect
So please explain who more deserves our respect
Let us pause with angelic choirs and genuflect
To show gratitude as on this Wall we reflect
Friends, Dane Ann is among those who served in the army during the Vietnam war and is
now recovering from long-overdue hip surgery performed at an old VA hospital in
Gainesville, Florida. Thank you for your prayers on her behalf. Many thanks
to Tim Ryerson, another Vietnam veteran, for joining me in this write.
I watched as Johnny was handed a uniform
Saw him trained him to kill, in a regiment conform
Marched by his side in Vietnam jungles warm
There was little regard to how war did us harm
By parachute dropped to a ghastly death scene
Johnny ached for the life left behind, so serene
His family, fiancé did not know what war means
Especially the haunting of lost children's screams
No ticker-tape parades, no welcome for us then
We were scorned as monsters, baby-killing men
Jeers from protestors and an uncaring government
Greeted the lonely Vietnam Veteran
No accolades received from a nation displeased
But we had not asked to be sent overseas
The rich sent their sons to universities
For families with wealth dodging the draft was a breeze
The "benefits" we found would astound all now
Homeless Vietnam vets still dwell amongst the crowd
And it leaves one to wonder how our hallowed ground
Could have so many unnamed graves of men once proud
I still see vets suffering disgraceful neglect
To say Vietnam wasn’t “war” shows no respect
by Carolyn Devonshire
for Miranda Lambert's "World of War: Vietnam" contest
Two giants stare into each other’s eyes
Each out to prove that he is more wise
The battlefield is broken down into squares
The moves are recorded to keep the war fair
The armies line up in parallel lines
Each solider a piece of timeless design
The pawns look across and each of them know
When it comes to sacrifice there the first to go
But that is ok for this is their place
Better to die for their King then live in disgrace
Each pawn is driven or so it would seem
Reach the end of the board and answer your dream
The Castles stand at the corners of it all
For the true defense is found in their walls
The Knights have their own special move
They will pick you apart if they fall in their groove
Next to the Knights the Bishops pray
Asking the Lord to guide their way
The Queen is the most powerful as it’s always been
For she holds the hearts of all of her men
Next to the Queen the King stands with pride
For he has an army and a giant on his side
Two armies collide each seeking the fame
Of placing a W next to their giants name
I picked war to place this under
because I had no idea what to put
it under. open for suggestions.
All around the Earth,
this world of so much worth,
people are fighting everywhere,
no one thinks that things are fair.
No matter where you go,
way up high or down below,
people talk the rage of war,
but do they know what they're fighting for?
If someone wants the right to live,
freedom is something that you should give,
but fighting for power and meaningless land,
is something that war does not demand.
The talk of peace is only sometimes heard,
most people start with war as their word,
they do not think of hurt or pain,
only the things that they may gain.
Their only goal is to win it all,
to lose means their army will fall,
if the goal they have will not achieve,
from the war they fought they have to leave.
And all through time the world repeats,
to fight each and every war it meets,
not many learn no matter if they win or lose,
that fighting is not the choice to choose.
April 12, 1861 the cannons could
be heard for miles around,
the war had started,that
led both sides to a long
and hard struggle.
Why was this site
chosen to start the fight,
it may have been that
this fort was not prepared
for a battle of any kind,
a shortage of cannons,
and other weapons,
hardlyl gave them any
chance to defend the fort
Abe Lincoln later in
his most famous speech,
said A Nation divided cannot stand,
which is a true statement.
The Civil War was to become
the bloodiest war in our history,
before the firing
on Fort Sumter
it was an unknown place
to most of the people,
now it stands out
as a major landmark
in our country.
wrote 4-12-11
Yonder comes the messenger
Forging thicket and thistle;
A young postal carrier
Known as Israel Bissell.
It began in Watertown,
This bold tale of derring-do;
Bearing news of Lexington,
He would get the message through.
America’s call to arms
Was his burden to carry.
Because of its importance,
Israel did not tarry.
The lad set out that morning,
Driven like a man possessed,
To alert the colonies
Of America’s unrest.
By noon he’d reached Worchester,
Though his steed did not survive.
A fresh mount and two days more,
In New Haven he arrived.
Every town along the way,
Heard his voice sounding alarms.
Our war of independence
Has begun! To arms! To arms!
He entered New York City
For another two day ride.
Then was on to New Jersey,
Without rest, or break in stride.
On to Philadelphia,
He reached Independence Hall.
Five days would be his journey
In delivering the call.
To arms, he warned the people,
Every American son,
For the British are coming,
And the war has just begun.
So if you can remember,
When a tale, you first did hear,
Of a legendary ride
And a man named Paul Revere;
Perhaps you might consider
How a hero gains his fame.
Sometimes all it comes down to,
Is the more heroic name.
But tales will still be written,
Full of bluster and bristle.
While true heroes go unsung,
Like young Israel Bissell.
The phrase, "going to war", has always had ominous and forbidding qualities that can
reverberate to the very core of the soul. Experiencing such an ordeal has its own legacy. It
differs from person to person in varying degrees and the anticipation is usually far more
negative than the actual arrival into the area of conflict. Though each war has its own
realities with which to deal, it is not the war addressed by, "Going to War". The poem reveals
the war within when the psyche literally battles with the 'unknown' in its struggle to accept
the actuality of an event feared and imagined.
The eastern sky grew dark with night,
The west held light of day.
A lonesome plane in westward flight
Was taking us away.
When orders came for Viet Nam
And all the names were read,
They may as well have dropped a bomb,
Or shot us there instead.
Some few had been to fight before
But most of us had not;
Had never dealt with death or war,
Or fears of being shot.
Our words came scarce and laughter naught,
Concern was quick to grow.
The doubts and fears we all had brought
Seemed primed and set to blow.
A wave of silence dashed our youth
Against the rocks of war,
And in its wake, the naked truth;
We're little boys no more.
The time had come to set aside
The games of yesterday,
To give our step a longer stride,
To learn another way.
Now doubt looms dark and ominous,
A vulture from the blue,
That preys upon what peace remains,
From all the things we knew.
We pray to soothe our fears and dread,
For rest to ease our mind,
For guidance through the war ahead,
And mourn the 'world', behind;
And that one day we'll understand
Why people have to die...
Still, time grows near when we would land,
The miles were flying by.
The windows fog with quickened breath
In our descent to land.
We all are sure a brush with death
Is very close at hand.
We watch Siagon come into view
And wait to feel a blast;
Then hold our breath, as if on cue,
When wheels touch down, at last.
The war, for us, has just begun;
Our fates seem so unsure,
But we are warriors, every one,
Resolved we will endure.
©1971 by Jim Fish
Gawd! I awoke this morning wondering what I'm doing in this miserable place!
I thought the oath I took was to defend America's shores, not a foreign race!
The French made a mess and ran, now, America has to straighten things out.
It's a civil war and personally I don't give a damn what the politicians tout!
The president and his minions are making millions off my miserable back,
While I wade through these gawd-forsaken paddies dodging shells and flak!
Maybe I should've gone to Canada but I would have let my father down,
Who fought in another war and returned with honor to his hometown.
Colonels and generals sit on their butts in Saigon adding medals to their collection,
Enjoying air conditioning, steak, ice cream and the finest whiskey selection.
I dine on C-rations, get a shower once a month and a warm beer now and then.
I hear the screams of wounded buddies and weep at the agony of dying men.
I hear back home that peaceniks call us baby killers and spit on returning heroes!
If I ever get back home and that happens to me, I'll punch the SOBs in the nose!
Nams don't appreciate what we're doing and its a shame our people have to die,
While a lot of their young guys avoid the gore of war hoping it'll pass them by.
As I sit here in this filthy foxhole with water up to my knees, I fervently pray,
I can make it through my tour without a scratch and get home to a better day.
Will America ever learn from history and stay out of other people's wars,
And learn from the futility of war while the loss of our blood and treasure soars?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Honorable Mention in Miranda Lambert's "World of War: Vietnam" Contest
Apr 2011
Ominously, in the east, do the cursed war clouds gather.
Young men, in ignorance claim, "we are unafraid to die."
Send dispatch riders forth on steeds set to labor and lather.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
Our fathers fathers fathers thought their war would be the last,
No more sons as offerings to Mars, nor widows nor orphans cry.
Sing out then Elders who have seen war's obscenity in the past.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
There be time for peace to reign, as shields and swords but rattle,
And taunts and boasts must still be made before the arrows fly.
God grant us sense to end in joy our thirst for blood and battle.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
More than twelve hundred souls
Meet their watery grave.
German U-boat patrols
Spark a fatal shockwave.
This echo of the past
Resounds throughout history.
Rousing war unsurpassed,
Deadly shroud of mystery.
The empire aids Cunard,
Loaning millions in pounds.
Lord Inverclyde toils hard
On deceptions unsound.
They hide admiralty
Within their merchant fleet,
And in reality
War barons plot deceit.
Famed cruiser so agile
Brings home the Blue Riband.
Propellers prove fragile,
New designs would respond.
While retooling the craft,
Gun mountings are installed.
Hidden away most daft
Down where the ropes are hauled.
However they decide
To switch their new design.
Large cargo holds shall hide
Munitions in her spine.
War with Germany starts
With land mines and blockades.
America builds parts
While Britain launches raids.
The Isles become war zones
With no sure passage back.
Submarines would throw stones
To sink the Union Jack.
So Daniel Dow protests
This British smuggling ring.
The prior chief suggests
Attacks these loads will bring.
A German message warns:
"Huge risk at British sea!
If allied flags adorn,
They'll be hacked to debris!"
Captain Turner is picked
To lead the merchant ship.
"Speed shall avoid conflict
On this momentous trip."
Voyage two hundred-one
Departs Pier 54
Under a watchful sun,
Fresh ammo in her store.
Steaming toward Fastnet Rock,
Bowler Bill seeks advice.
Three ships are sunk in shock,
Warnings are confirmed twice.
Posting double look-outs,
They ready the lifeboats.
Bill secures a black out
While taking careful notes.
Thirty miles from Cape Clear,
The vessel enters fog.
Weather thwarts so severe
The captain slows their slog.
The periscope spots them
As orders are passed down.
One button shall condemn,
Destruction all around.
The Old Head of Kinsale
Watches the missile glide.
The bomb shreds to assail
Those weapons stowed inside.
Parading through tangled vines, dense brush
Green fatigues twining with emerald canopy so lush
A humid vapor drifts overhead; perspiration founts gush
Under foot decaying leaves and rotting vegetation mush
The eerie stillness on all sides made my adrenaline rush
We meandered through the jaded obstacle course
Search and destroy our tour de force
Stalking amorphous foe who cunningly uses every available
resource
Walking through the valley of death with little recourse
Seeking the beauty of nature from the artifice of war to divorce
Rustling leaves ahead put unit on full alert
Silhouettes flutter, then through the plush seams squirt
Enemy artillery moving into place and soldiers around our flanks
skirt
Without warning, enfilading fire from both sides did spurt
After momentary pause, I hit the dirt
Lieutenant screamed for the mortar unit
Crawling down an embankment; I dove into a pit
Head up, I fired at every moving figure in my orbit
I heard 'fire in the hole'; the rampart became a fiery spit
Springing from the fiery inferno, I felt a piercing pain; I had been hit
A surgeon was called to my side
Blood flowed from head gash so deep, wide
After a shot of morphine, a bandana was around my head tied
On a stretcher quickly thrown, and through the mayhem we plied
Smoke and fire all around; tossed to and fro on the bumpy ride
Into the clearing, we cautiously strode
Snipers greeted us with volley after volley; our pace slowed
The pick-up point posse, now in view, were in full alert mode
Earth-shattering fire from the helicopter team did the woods
explode
Serpentining to the helicopter, the rescue team with a daring lunge my stretcher did load
Vietnam: World of War contest
Stephen Parker
it had been predicted
the crime of your century
i would figure out
and do it justice
It was written
after many years of famine
and tragedy
the justice i did the crime of the century
would lead you to enlightenment
it was said
the lasting effects of my iron rod
would last for hundreds of years
known as the golden age
it was foretold
the last prophet of the world before jesus
returns at the end of earth when this was undone,
I would do this for you
and he would be annointed
so here it is
the mastermined war code
with potential to end your way of life
sucked into its center, a personal war against war,
in which war protests itself
spiralling out from the center of indifference
and miscommunication
to keep up with the supposed manipulation
the outside layers, a holy essence
as this beasts mission is to prevent itself
walking out with knowledge
to be scathed in your perfection
to take every good advice given in the mentioned cypher
to prevent the end of your life
in which your global enemies will be pinpointed
and peace on earth mastermined
My Iron rod
can be dangerous
for now i wield it with good intent
for now i teach you to come together in unity
to become a global success
this false prophet, dressed up as your historical legacy
this god complex, joke dressed in suicide
it was mentioned i would have an enemy
and with world peace for 300 years at stake
you would not tell them of this under rug swept prophecy
for your enemy to be realised
your global enemy responsible for all wars of earth
this warcode to protect everyone from their own foolery
walk away from this personal war with what is offered
for the next man i label as the antichrist,
may not be found as the blackmailed victom of your organisation
in the matrix of the underground,
the sleight of reality, belief and spirituality
the world deadlocked, and blackmailed for peace
I have an enemy
i t also happens that i have a rash
i am the prophet nostradamus predicted
the last one to be before the end of the world
i am here to lead you to the golden age
and then world peace
this will last for hundreds of years
but having an enemy
i am having difficulty accomplishing my heavenly task
As we rallied to the Falklands cry,
And prepared ourselves to fight and die,
Some willing, some pressed, some volunteers,
All with deep down hidden fears.
Gangways gone, Hawser sip,
Sail Intrepid, fighting ship!!
Long hard days, sleepless nights
Working hard to get things right.
Ascension passed, Falklands closing
Argentine threat, everyone joking.
D Day troops- we pushed them through,
Still we laughed, so little we knew.
For us the war was still not real,
How could we know just what we'd feel.
Sympathy, hurt, pain and fears,
revulsion, hate, horror and tears
Bombs exploding - war is raging,
Begin to realise what we're facing.
Rockets loud and missiles firing,
Heroes living, heroes dying.
"Hit the deck" we hear the cry,
Please dear God I dont want to die
Air raid over, planes depart,
All quiet, that was just the start.
Weeks go past, countless plans
Intrepid:- Battle hardened veterans
Air raids come and air raids go
British Victory? Hopes they grow,
Ships hit, ships sinking,
People hurt, it gets me thinking,
So much pain and so much sorrow
Christ: it could be me tomorrow
Now at last Port Stanley taken
Argentine hopes, all are broken,
Britain has won, or have we really?
Peace has been paid for, very dearly.
Thousands of lives have been lost,
How can one start to count the cost!
Shortly, back to Britain will be the course,
Set by the victorious:- Task Force!
Into the arms of the waiting newsmen,
To be out on page one to page ten.
But when the publicity has all passed,
As I'm sure you know it cannot last,
Who'll remember the fallen lads,
Who gave their lives for the Falkland Islands.
The distant land no-one recalls,
Except when they bother to take a slight pause.
So take heed Politicians, look back over history,
And forget the Chivalry and the Glory.
They don' exist - lest not in this age,
Or can they in any future war we may wage.
Before you set forth on any crusade you may persue,
Remember the servicemen, you need to back you.
From this Epitaph, let one thing remain,
Don't even let one man have died in Vain!!!!!!
AEM(M)Clifford
20.6.82