Long Fatigues Poems
Long Fatigues Poems. Below are the most popular long Fatigues by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fatigues poems by poem length and keyword.
Beyond the Wire
another day in country
we shuffled out beyond the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was hot and humid
like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
wrapping us in a green cloak
blocking out the sun
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
hoping the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
lessoning our chances
of becoming an easy target
our heavy packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies leaving
us feeling as though
a monsoon had soaked us
we reached the village
and began searching each hootch carefully
ripping up flooring looking
for the hidden enemy
when we had finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
the roof on each one
and watched as each one roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others smoking reefer
our day was a success
no one was
going home in a body bag
It was summertime and healing from the winter’s dark
Felt like memories were alone and silent, warring with the doubts
Leaves green and dancing with the breeze, wings of hope
Laughing at the lost moments when we played tag with hide n’ seek
It was a game, summer’s cure for the past that was all pain
Clouds of melancholy folded into shadows where Michael gave us
All the ice cream and root beer we could eat and drink, consume
With overwhelming urgency, appetites for a home cooked meal
Crushed beneath the sugary syrup and cold vanilla breath
It was summertime, before the moon and stars caught up
With twinkle of fireflies in a Mason jar, quarts of shimmering
Lights, delighting our hearts and our thoughts with their breathless
Glow, their embers alive with silent joy, amazing music only
Discovered in the dusk, just before day fled into the ebony distance
It was summertime and Michael wore his camouflage fatigues
After the Army, he never seemed without some tale, flickering images
Moments of comical whims delighting, inviting the twinkles, laughter
In Granny’s clear, blue eyes – alive with the love she had for him
The youngest boy of six siblings, all gone off on their own now
Inspired by the croaking frogs on the edges of a summer evening
Blended with hearts who were beating hope, light, love…
Before Michael would leave, dying beneath the heavy cruelty
His alcoholism wore him down to a shadow of the child she’d known
The man who laughed so that he seemed to vibrate, tremble
With the joy that poured forth from his throat, his wonderous light
It was summertime when he died and I mourned… oh, how I cried
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
August 3, 2022
Subways swim underground
like whales swallowing dreams.
I sit blended into its whirring cavity
A hostage inside this vehicle transporting prisoners.
I see my face clinched in the window’s reflection
Shifting with blank gazes into stark musings
as the whine of electrical motors wail
like the Sirens from Homer’s Odyssey calling out,
seducing shipwrecked promises of my tomorrow.
Anger becomes sorrow that strangles my belly into fits.
Rocking in this womb like a transient clock
the tickety-tickety-tickety of the tracks
count the moments,
hours, days, years swiftly stolen-
by those who inhale the air I cannot breathe.
I am suffocating!
To keep from drowning
I clutch the rosary around my neck.
Kindred voyageurs reaching for hope surround my crucifix
palms up-with the penance of heartless ambiguity.
Such cruelty these smiles hide, disguising their comfort
from a sadness where justice might free me
to pacify their souls in the name of their God
A melting pot – a stew of skins-congregate in colors,
waiting with bones boiling in this racist broth that ache with loathing,
on the train of hungry whales that stalls tired and derailed.
I have sacrificed family, friends, and homeland to touch the soil
of this land of promise. But there is little harvest here.
This shallow ground fatigues my fate and sucks it dry
yielding barren fruits of truth
as empty as the desert from which I fled.
Stranded once more on this oasis of lies
this nomad searching for a more perfect life
Made in America.
August 8, 2021
A Brian Strand your pick Poetry Contest
Artist Credit: This poem was written for the image "Fata Morgana" by Swoon
The definition of Fata Morgana is: a mirage of multiple images that are distorted and magnified to resemble elaborate castles.
Over the blasts of mortar shells,
He heard the sound of jingle bells;
And when he closed his tired eyes,
He got a Christmas Day surprise.
Snow was fall’n and his boy was call’n:
“Daddy, can we go down now?
I think it’s clear, Santa’s been here
And Daddy got home some how.
We are a family, Daddy, Mom and me
On this Christmas Day;
I’m with you, my wish came true,
The one to Baby Jesus I did pray.”
From across the world, so far away,
In a foreign land on Christmas Day;
Sleeping with his fatigues still on,
His boy’s voice was a Christmas song.
Snow was fall’n and his boy was call’n:
“Daddy, can we go down now?
I think it’s clear, Santa’s been here
And Daddy got home some how.
We are a family, Daddy, Mom and me
On this Christmas Day;
I’m with you, my wish came true,
The one to Baby Jesus I did pray.”
Please remember our service heroes,
Scattered throughout the world,
As we celebrate with our families,
The good will they hope to build.
He woke up to a flash of light,
And screams resounding in the night;
He charged forward to help his peers;
With his son’s voice ringing in his ears.
Snow was fall’n and his boy was call’n:
“Daddy, can we go down now?
I think it’s clear, Santa’s been here
And Daddy got home some how.
We are a family, Daddy, Mom and me
On this Christmas Day;
I’m with you, my wish came true,
The one to Baby Jesus I did pray.”
Tell me that you've felt a failure
In doing what was right
While pillows dampen, salty
Amidst the restlessness of night
A wonder, wonders bless the wicked
And the same thing in reverse
Ensure the gnarled vines of virtue
Aren't easily traversed
With what was once a gleaming moral compass
More a burden than a tool
Its rusting ends give rhyme to meaning well
A witty slogan of the fool
The firmest grasp fatigues to loosen
Slipping chains cut like a knife
In vain, try letting go completely
This blessed curse carried for life
As tainted blood drips from your calloused palm
And every orangy link
Try not to smirk upon the splashes
More rewarding than you'd think
Normal people scare me
The other day,
I shuffled my way,
down the street,
minding my own business.
As I raised my glance upwards
to the oncoming pedestrian
traffic on the busy sidewalk,
I noticed a young woman (I think)
as she (?) approached me,
I saw her,
navigating her way through
the stream of people crossing
in front of her,
like a salmon,
swimming against the current.
She had purple spiked hair,
sides shaved,
her face,
pierced like a pin cushion,
and, every inch of exposed flesh
was covered in profanity laced ink.
She wore army fatigues,
and a T shirt, with the words
"NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME".
emblazoned across her chest!
As her brazen eyes,
searched for reactive glances,
I cast my gaze downwards.
Strange thing was...
no one even seemed shocked by her!
Upside down world!
John Derek Hamilton
Feb 27,2017
You never know when the day begins or until it is complete what twists and turns that day may take…or what people you might meet.
Today a nod to fate…or luck…or what many call destiny…this story revolves around two mechanics, some donuts…a soldier…and one dead car battery.
After a wonderful time the day before…hiking, seeing animals…identifying trees and flowers…we decided to rise early and grab some donuts before visiting Bok Tower.
But when we tried to start our car…the battery was dead…already things were not going our way…it seemed that fate had other plans for the beginning of our day.
After getting a jump from our roadside service…(whom we immediately had called)…we drove to O’Reilly Auto Parts to have a new battery installed.
But this O’Reilly’s didn’t have our battery in stock…(that’s 2 twists of fate if you happen to be keeping score)…But Chris, the manager, found one at Eric’s O’Reilly’s and sent us to his store.
After paying for our new battery…(yes, it was a tidy sum)…and thanking Eric for installing it…we said in unison…”Bok Tower…here we come!”
Our car was running…we were happy…we were only 2 1/2 hours late…and then we remembered our donuts and thought…Bok Tower would have to wait.
As luck would have it…standing in front of us at The Donut Man shop…(which only added to fate’s intrigue)…was a soldier…how did we know he was a soldier?…he was wearing his fatigues.
We thought…we only had a little car trouble that delayed us getting on our way…and how that pales in comparison with what a soldier faces every day
So we told him to put away his money…that we would buy his donuts and whatever else he wanted too…as a way to thank him for his service…it was the least that we could do.
Tom, the soldier, realizing his day was also not going exactly as he planned…smiled, thanked both Deborah and me then before leaving…shook our hands.
Fate finally brought us to Bok Tower…and we’ll not soon forget the wonder fo such a beautiful place…nor the kindness of strangers we met along the way…or the smile on one soldier’s face.
I apologize for the length of this story…let’s just chalk it up to fate…but it is my hope…just like our donuts…oh…and Bok Tower…you found it worth the wait.
Classmates — Back in Time
by Kevin Davis 2024
Just the other day, I paused at dusk,
Sifting through a box marked “school.”
Inside lay yearbooks — creases worn,
Smiles frozen in time’s gentle pull.
Teachers and classmates, familiar as breath,
Once roamed those locker-lined halls —
Four fleeting years of chatter and change,
Echoes caught in cinder block walls.
So where did friends go, where do they live,
What do they do with their time?
Are they happy, are they content,
Are they satisfied with how they use their mind?
Some leapt toward campuses lush and wide,
Chasing knowledge like a breeze —
Dorm-room debates and midnight oil,
Midterms rustling autumn leaves.
They became the dreams their parents spoke,
Diplomas framed in quiet pride,
Following maps of purpose and chance,
To futures they shaped and amplified.
So where did friends go, where do they live,
What do they do with their time?
Are they happy, are they content,
Are they satisfied with how they use their mind?
Others stepped into workday rhythms,
Brimming with resolve —
Steel-toed boots or office chairs,
They let their talents evolve.
Paychecks turned into baby shoes,
Mortgages, and Friday night grills —
Love found early, steady and bright,
Blooming in everyday thrills.
So where did friends go, where do they live,
What do they do with their time?
Are they happy, are they content,
Are they satisfied with how they use their mind?
Some answered a greater call to serve,
In boots, fatigues, and creed —
Letters sent from foreign lands,
Written in dust and dignity’s seed.
Whether drafted or drawn by honor’s flame,
They bore both pride and pain —
Many came home with deeper truths,
And stars stitched into their name.
So where did they all go, where do they live,
What do they do with their time?
Are they happy, are they content,
Are they satisfied with how they use their mind?
Then I closed that yearbook gently,
Its pages worn like a friend’s old coat,
And reached for voices I once knew,
Chasing echoes their hearts still wrote.
We met again beneath summer skies,
Where laughter healed the space between —
And found that though we’d wandered far,
The roots of us remained unseen.
Now we know where we went, where we live,
And what we do with our time —
Most seem happy and content,
And satisfied with how we use our mind.
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
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.