Long Korean war Poems
Long Korean war Poems. Below are the most popular long Korean war by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Korean war poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s Scottie in his chair
Tongue firmly in his cheek
Trying to wind up Old Noel,
The highlight of his week.
Noel, over eighty, Veteran
Of the Korean War
Gives as good as he gets
And dishes out much more.
Gordon’s his visiting carer
Sits there with a big grin
Not himself a veteran but
He’s managed to fit in.
Big Dave is eating as usual
Throwing in the odd word,
The vision of him ever fitting
In a tank now patently absurd.
Crann’s the honorary caretaker
Helping out while he waits
For his entry Visa to join
His fiancee over in the states.
Emily the teenaged volunteer
Who won’t take any lip
Has those hardened veterans
Under her slender finger tips.
Tuesday morning at The Centre,
Stacks of admin there to do,
Bur I’ve had to close the office
And get on with the brew.
It’s not yet ten o’clock
The Drop-in looks nearly full
Already starting the craic
The banter and the bull.
So many other people coming
In and out in a steady flow
As one comes in another
Just seems to get up go.
Regimental rivalries
Black Forces Humour
Downright lies and
Manufactured rumour.
Hobbie’s by the door
Taking the whole scene in,
Vic’s chatting to Chris
Who’s sat there with a grin.
That’s the way it used to be
But now it’s closed and gone
In a Covid changed world
Where things have moved on.
So many years we lasted
Existing from day to day
And then for some reason
We seemed to lose our way.
The rise of the Pandemic
Seemed to be the last straw
And the founding spirit just
Wasn’t’ there any more.
The Drop-in that helped so many
Was just too good to last
Like so many valued things
Just a memory of the past.
I love Korean food
K food
Ever since I first
Encountered it in 1979
When I joined the Peace Corps
Korean food is somewhat like
Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, and Thai
With some American influences as well
and lately Mexican food and Turkish food
And Italian food have made an impact
But it is also unique
Distinctive
And delicious
The essence of Korean food
Is the complex interaction
Of the main ingredients
The aroma of chives, fish sauce, garlic, ginger, onion,
Eggs, oyster sauce, green onion, sesame oil,
Soy sauce, red pepper paste, tofu, vinegar, sugar
And other spices and herbs,
Creating a symphony of flavors,
Scents and umami spiciness
That stimulates my appetite
And make my mouth water.
Korean food is traditionally served
With steamed rice alongside
“banchan” side dishes
Including the famous Kimchi
Pickled fermented cabbage
And a main entry,
Either beef, chicken, fish, pork,
And often a savory stew as well.
One of my favorites is budaejijae
“army stew” that dates back
To the Korean war era
In a pot filled with kimchi, and tofu
Add some chicken, hotdog meat, spam
And often cheese and boil it all up
And serve over rice
Wash it down with copious
Amounts of Korean liquor
Soju drunk Russian style
Straight shots.
The year was 1946...
Grandfather, on my dad's side, chemistry professor at the Ann Arbor Campus of the University of Michigan had just finished his tenure, completing his service to our country in the reserve as a full-bird Colonel in the US Army during WW 2 as Base Commander at Fort Benning during the build up to D-Day. He visited his old friend in Washington, the longest-serving Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn. Sam liked to tell G'pa " it's 5 o' Clock somewhere Marshall, let's have a drink" (1-drink limit). Sam would regale G'pa with tales of inner-sanctum bitter feuds in Congress and G'pa would regale Sam with stories of skirmishes his buddy the General, George S. Patton (tank commander) had during the the summer of '42 (see the HBO Series 'Band of Brothers) with various Branch-Generals, scheduling jump-platform qualifying times preparing for the D-Day Invasion. For years, G'pa seldom visited Dad's dear suffering mom, who passed way too early in life (G'pa never even went to her funeral) this permanently scarred dad, a hurt he never recovered from, seldom visiting G'pa in later years...I remember one visit to Florida just outside an Army Base (where G'pa had canteen privileges) G'pa read his book the whole time, never looking up, he was dismayed dad wouldn't accept an officer's commission at the start of the Korean War...one in 4 Lieutenant's perished in battle, and on the advice of my precious Irish Grandfather on my mom's side, chose to begin a family...and here I am, writing this story...
"We are the Dead. Short days ago.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved, and now we lie.
In Flanders fields. "
Quote By _ John McCrae (Flanders Fields)
on the eleventh month, on the eleventh day, at the eleventh hour
under a blue hazy sky in my city
we honored those who answered the call and died
for the peace and freedom that we enjoy today
we have a beautiful war monument and statue
and a tomb of the unknown soldier
that we treasure everyday not just on November eleventh
all the wars are engraved in stone
World War I, World War II, The Korean War, Afghanistan
and it honors the peacekeepers who lost their life's also
the sound of the bands, the parade of branches of the military
the 21-gun salute, and the jet fly over, and the choir singing
the pipers and trumpet, breaks the silence of those standing tall
and when it is over everyone removes their poppies
and places them on the tomb of the unknown soldier
like red tears cascading
____________________
November 11, 2022
Submitted to the contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon, Mile 25
sponsor, Mark Toney
Standard bearers lead the Hearse
Past we Veterans lining the road ,
Booted and Suited, at the salute,
In that honoured Veterans’ Code.
We all enter with respect on
This sad and solemn day
Standards precede his coffin
As we see our brother on his way.
His long faithful service Included
An almost forgotten Korean War,
Now Our Brother Noel is at peace,
Memories can’t trouble him any more.
We few are here in lieu of those
Who today couldn’t be present,
The band of fellow Veterans
We few so solemnly represent.
At the finish of the ceremony
At attention, sad eyed, mute
We stand by his casket for
One last farewell salute
Just a few years I knew him,
Considered him my friend,
Sadly but with pride I come,
Here to Parade at his end.
December Seventh and the U.S.A.
By Franklin Price
12/07/2021
December seventh, forty-one
A day that lives in infamy
Had it not happened, as it did,
Where in the world, would we now be?
Was only four score years ago
We could no longer isolate
Became THE POWER of the earth
With destiny we made a date
Japan and the Axis powers
Forced us, the U.S.A., to fight
They woke up the sleeping giant
And since, we've never slept a night
For us the war began that day
To end, at last, in forty-five
Veterans, of it, still among us
Aging, a hundred, but alive
Are they proud of where we've traveled
Since the atomic bomb was dropped.
Or do they realize, as I,
That World War Two has never stopped?
We helped the whole world to rebuild
Could not retreat from all the fight
Communism now our enemy
It did not happen overnight
In the war they were our allies
Defending all against the foe
When the Axis was defeated
Became the enemy we know
Policing actions, came and went
Korean war, and Vietnam
The Cold War, so called, ended
We did not really give damn
Had to meddle in the Middle East
Bringing terror to our lives
Putin's Russia and Red China
Are both where the war still thrives
May not yet be full on combat
But the threat is in the way
Why can't we all just get along
In the World we're in today?
Can't we sit down at the table
And listen to the other side?
Our blue, third planet, from the sun
Is the only place to ride.
THE POWER on the planet Earth
Is still the good old U.S.A.
But it's slipping exponentially
And will soon be gone away
We're losing sight of who we are
Of who our founders said we'd be
We the people, are the government
Not those in Washington, we see.
Don't have our interests in their hearts
They'll take our freedoms all away
They'll defeat us from the inside
That's what I see for us today
It's not over 'til it's over
We can fight until it's done
We can help or we can hinder
To see again a rising sun
Many are the 'characters' I met while serving my nation.
Seems there's always one who stands out in every organization!
In Bermuda (where I fought the Korean War) was such a cuss.
He was my bunkmate and he went by the name of Gus!
Gus was the old man of the outfit, a staff sergeant as I recall.
He'd been up and down the ranks and boozing caused his fall!
Never to be promoted beyond 'staff'', he was happy with his lot.
Gus floated on cloud nine as long as he had his daily tot!
Near payday, funds depleted, out of booze, in a nervous funk,
He'd surreptitiously place this beseechng note upon my bunk:
"My boy, may I propose for your benevolent consideration,
A temporary loan for relief from my dire financial situation?"
Now, how could I deny his plea phrased in such flowing verse!
Besides, on payday, he'd promptly seek me out to reimburse!
On paydays, Gus and his pals were wont to go on a spree!
He'd relieve his bloated bladder nigh any convenient tree,
Proclaming, "Wherever you may be let your water flow free!"
(For some reason the local constables happened to disagree!)
Gus was a good man and I enjoyed our comradely association,
Despite his innate proclivity for intemperate intoxication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
----paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11,
My soul filled with pride and my eyes misted as the parade passed in review.
'Twas the annual hometown Veterans Day Parade that I was privileged to view.
Veterans, young and old marched behind the flag that they vowed to defend.
They sacrificed so much to uphold the liberties we enjoy in this land!
A Medal of Honor recipient served as Marshal for the parade.
Lively music provided by the local high school band was played.
An honor guard led the procession with Old Glory held high.
Old veterans along the street saluted with a proud tear in their eye!
There were survivors from the December 1941 Pearl Harbor Affair.
No doubt this day recalled memories of comrades who yet lie sleeping there.
Grizzled heroes of The Battle of the Bulge marched proudly with resolute stride.
Wearers of the Purple Heart rode aboard a float with heads held high with pride!
A company of Korean War vets marched representing the war in which they served.
Viet Nam vets received long overdue plaudits from the crowd they so well deserved.
Young men and women still on active duty, some barely out of their teens,
Represented the Army, Navy, Coast Guard, Air Force and United States Marines!
Those gnarled hands that once held the terrible weapons of war,
Now beckoned for peace that we shall know war no more.
The hardships they suffered for liberty's sake we shall never know.
So much, so very much to each of these brave men and women we owe!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I was born in ’34 near the California shore,
Where life was good, whether we were rich or poor.
We moved around a lot, but I never asked what for,
And my friends came and went like a revolving door.
We lived all around the world on many different shores,
So, my life was certainly anything but a bore.
When I was eight, and my dad was thirty-four,
He went off to fight in the Second World War.
He said it was a soldier’s duty and nothing more,
And such is the life of a man in the Marine Corps.
My mom stopped working in the spring of ’44,
When dad returned home labeled a hero of war.
Two years later, when my little sister turned four,
My dad left the service and opened up a store.
I was twelve years old and helped out with many chores,
But the life I enjoyed was my life in the outdoors.
When I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the Corps,
Just like my father, and his father before.
I thought it was a chance to see the world and explore,
But, little did I know, that I was going off to war.
I turned twenty years old in the summer of ’54,
One year to the day since the end of the Korean War.
Never again did I want to see all that blood and gore,
But years later, I was thrown into another country’s war.
Vietnam was a place I’d never heard of before,
Yet, there I was, in the middle of someone else’s war.
I never fully understood what we were there for,
But I never questioned my duty to the Corps.
I spent many years crawling around on the jungle floor,
Trying to settle someone else’s bloody score.
We were losing men by the thousands, yet came thousands more,
Because politicians were in charge from a distant shore.
I got out of Vietnam in the spring of ’64,
And that was the end of my career in the Corps.
My son turned eighteen in the winter of ’84,
Joined the Marines, and moved to the California shore.
I told him to make me a promise and he swore,
To never fight unless he knew what he was fighting for.
I’ve seen enough blood and it’s impossible to ignore,
The fact that war is hell, and hell is going to war.