Long Veteran Poems
Long Veteran Poems. Below are the most popular long Veteran by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Veteran poems by poem length and keyword.
WHAT A BLESSING HAVING AN AEROSPACE ENGERINEER DRONE PILOT FOR A GRANDDAUGHTER 8 CHILDREN 26 GRANDCHILDREN OUR MEMORIES ARE SO PRICELESS MY HOME WAS BROKEN INTO IRONICALLY THE THIEVES CLONED MY PHONE TRIED TO DELETE MY LIFE CRAZY STALKERS THEY WERE OLD PHONES 7 OLD CELL PHONES ALL THE DATA SAFETY STORED THESE OLD PHONES I KELP FOR MY MEMORIES BY GOD GRACE SHE WAS ABLE NOT ONLY WAS SHE ABLE TO RESTORE MY PORTRAITS KEEPSAKES SHE WAS ABLE TO UPLOAD THEM TO OTHER DEVICES THIS WAY I COULD DELETE AND MAKE SPACE FOR NEW ONES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOUR STORAGE IS FULL USING YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS YOU COULD CONTINUE TO STORE WITHOUT LOSING IMPORTANT MEMORIES AWESOME WITH A MEMORY VAULT OUR MEMORIES ARE SAVED IT'S ALSO GOOD WHEN BUYING A NEW PHONE JUST UPLOAD THE OLD GALLERY TO YOUR NEW PHONE WHO CARES IF THIEVES BREAK IN CLONE YOUR OLD PHONES MY HUSBAND PHONE WAS EASY HIS PHONE HAD ONLY DUPLICATE PHOTOS OF ME WE RESTORED THOSE AS WELL OH WELL SO IF YOU EVER LOSE YOUR PHONE YOUR DATA IS ALWAYS THERE I GUESS THATS WHY FBI AGENTS COPS CLONE CELL PHONES ALL THE TIME SORRY STALKERS EVERY PORTRAIT HAS ALREADY BEEN STORED THROUGH BACKING UP NEVER LOSE A MEMORY AGAIN KEEPSAKE MEMORIES VAULTS THE SHEER HORROR OF BEING HACKED YOUR PHONE IS CLONED THE HACKERS CAN SEND TEXT MAKE CALLS DESTROY HUMAN LIVES MY STALKERS WERE CORRUPTION THEY HAD THIS POWER TO EVEN SEND BOGUS TRAFFIC TICKETS REEKING HAVOC ON MY DISABLED VETERAN SO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY IT'S THE BEST THING MY FAMILY EVER DID THE HACKERS WOULD CHANGE YOUR EMAILS MY STALKERS ACTUALLY USED HER BLACK FACE TO OPEN MY PHONE WE REPLACED THOSE PHONES WITH UNHACKABLE ONES SIMS CARDSVAFTER SIM CARDS SHE WOULD BREAK IN GRAB OLD PHONES SEARCHING OUR DESK FOR PASS CODES EVEN BANK CODES ACTUALLY ATTEMPTED TO DEPOST A CHECK FRAUD WASTE AND THE TELLY HACKER CLONING DEVISES IS VERY SCARY SHE TRIED HACKING INTO GOVERMENT ACCOUNTS IT WAS A HORRID ATTACK ON DISABLED AMERICANS I RECIEVED THREATS BLACKMAIL EXTORTION TODAY WE ARE AWARE AND SAFE WITH DATA LITERALLY
When did our country die
I really can' not say
The people tried to stop it
But it happened anyway
The government ignored us
The law we had to fight
We could not fly our country's flag
To us this was not right.
Pensioners were punished just for
Being old
The government did not care that
Thay were dieing with the cold.
Police were arresting Christians who
Stood in silent prayer
Our veteran sleep in doorways and
Our politicians don't even Care
But our citizens will keep fighting
As courage we do not lack
We will fight against all comers
Until we get our country back
Wishing the Best
Are You a Vietnam Veteran?
I Would like to Tell You a Thing or Two.
There Are No Words to Explain,
The Depths of Emotion I Have for You.
The Adversity You Had to Endure,
Even Before You Went Away,
Cannot Compare to the Terror You faced
And Is Still in Your Souls Today.
Some of You Handled it Well,
Others of You Had No Chance.
The Reasons Why You Lived or Died,
Was Mostly Caused by Circumstance.
There Are Some of You, I Know,
That Are Impaired Beyond Compare.
Others of You Suffer Just as Well,
But You Have No Need for a Wheel Chair.
You Have a Special Bond I See,
Visible When You Say “Hello, Brother”,
Causing a Chill up and down My Spine,
The Way You Immediately “Know” Each Other.
Then There Are Those That Died.
And Their Names Are on the Wall,
So, Let Me Say to Each of You....
For Them...You Walk Proud and Tall.
They Will Live on in Our Minds and Hearts,
Mother, Brother, Father, or Friend...
Their Names Shall Stand Forever
And May Help the Rest of You Mend.
Fifty Eight Thousand Look down from Heaven,
And When the Sun Hangs Low in the West
You Can Catch a Glimpse of Them All
And They... Like me...Are Wishing You the Best.
Connie Moore
"Woman raises over $315K for homeless veteran . . ." ABC News Nov '17
A homeless man with only twenty dollars to his name,
a sincere good Samaritan with no designs on fame,
observed a stranded woman near the interstate one night
and knew he had to be the one to remedy her plight.
When she remained in her locked car, just as he asked, he went,
to buy a can of gasoline. She must have thought God sent
an angel to her rescue. She and many more would show
they could be good Samaritans as well, and all would know
compassion thrives in many hearts. No matter how stone-cold
the world may seem, there still remain those willing to be bold
in giving. Kate McClure set up a GoFundMe account;
a throng of caring people raised a sizeable amount.
They want to see this ex-fire fighter/vet back on his feet.
They feel that Johnny Bobbitt rates a life beyond the street.
Sometimes one person’s actions serve as catalysts that lead,
as in this case, to numerous kind and noteworthy deeds.
Topic 6: Newspaper Headline
Johnny Bobbitt, age 34 at the time, was also a paramedic. He fell on hard
times due to personal issues.
April 26, 2018, entered in Jamie Pan's Interesting Contest 3
Twenty Year Veteran
December Seventh, Nineteen Forty One,
Was the Day I Turned Eighteen.
I Immediately Joined the Service
And Discovered Things I'd Never Seen.
I Went to Korea in Fifty Nine,
And Was Wounded in the Shoulder.
I Came Back from There,
Just Glad I'd Be Getting Older.
I Was a Twenty Year Veteran,
In Nineteen Sixty One.
You Would Think I'd Had Enough,
But I Felt I Wasn't Done.
I Was Sent to Vietnam,
A Leader Now of Men.
I Know I Had Been Happier,
But I Couldn't Say Just When.
Then Things Completely Fell Apart,
That Day We Fell under Attack.
The Smoke Finally Cleared Away
And I Saw the Blood on Billy's Back.
I Remember How Johnny Held Him,
Crying to God, "Why Was He Dead?"
I'll Never Forget the Way Johnny Cried,
"Why Didn't You Take Me Instead?"
All of Those Boys Died There.
Those Five Friends in Vietnam.
I Died Not Long after and Joined Them.
Johnny, Billy, Luke, George....And Tom.
Connie Moore
They smile like church people
front row teeth, polished shoes,
hands folded over gold-plated lies.
And America—
sweet tired America—
keeps mistaking volume for truth,
keeps mistaking a salesman
for a savior.
There are towers with names carved into them
like warnings no one read in time.
There are golf courses green as envy,
ballrooms glowing like kingdoms built
from unpaid invoices
and handshakes with devils
wearing silk ties.
The father stands at the center of it all
like a carnival barker dipped in bronzer and grievance,
calling every indictment a witch hunt,
every critic an enemy,
every law another thing
for poorer people.
Meanwhile the children circle the throne
with sharpened smiles.
One trademarks patriotism.
One sells certainty in little jars.
One hunts influence
the way wolves hunt soft animals in winter.
And the friends—
God, the friends—
they rise from the shadows of private dinners
and closed hotel doors,
laughing into champagne glasses
while contracts bloom like mold
behind the curtains.
Billions.
Not earned in the old way
with broken backs and factory whistles.
No.
This is the new American alchemy:
turn outrage into currency,
turn division into stock options,
turn flags into receipts.
And somewhere a woman works double shifts
under fluorescent lights
while a billionaire complains about persecution
on television.
Somewhere a veteran sleeps in his truck
while men born into marble bathrooms
speak of sacrifice.
Pamela Harris says that corruption is not only theft.
It is the slow teaching
that nothing sacred exists anymore.
That justice is decorative.
That truth is negotiable.
That if you are rich enough
you can stand in the middle of history
and dare morality to touch you.
But history always keeps receipts.
Even empires with gold curtains rot.
Even grifters grow old.
And the loudest man in the room
must someday face a silence
he cannot sue, brand, or bully away.
To the veteran; daughter, son
We honor you for all you’ve done.
Throughout the land, our flags we raise;
A grateful nation gives you praise.
From general to private class,
Unsung heroes and honored brass
Receive our broken, heart-felt gaze.
A grateful nation gives you praise.
No benefit nor medal pin
Begins to fill the debt within
Each fallen tear reflects a glaze
A grateful nation gives you praise.
Widows know and children feel it:
Freedom’s price, they so reveal it!
Ceremonies, wreaths they have laid
A grateful nation gives you praise.
No greater love, than sacrifice
All veterans have paid a price
May thankful prayers be upraised
A grateful nation gives you praise.
Christmas can be a very difficult time of year
for the homeless there’s no Christmas cheer
Ted is a war veteran who suffers from PTSD
sadly he’s estranged from his whole family
He walked out of home, it was a terrible wrench
now his regular bed is a hard cramped park bench
His threadbare coat doesn’t keep out the cold
as he recalls his life before depression took hold
He is many miles from home, he misses his wife
but his poor mental state led to marital strife
On Christmas Eve he’s spotted by a homeless charity
they know a safe place where he can seek sanctuary
One man dressed as an elf gently rouses Ted
he offers Ted food and a roof over his head
He says they need help preparing Christmas dinner
Ted is an excellent cook, so they are on to a winner
The charity gives help to get Ted back on his feet
In time he goes home, and his life is now sweet
Image 1
The Park Bench at Christmas Contest
Sponsored by Sara Kendrick
12/2/18
Imagine that?
A disabled homeless man
and war veteran is now
sleeping on the sidewalk in America;
the greatest, richest, most powerful...
country on the face of the earth.
A country this hero gave
so much of himself.
serving; a country he risked his life
shedding blood and guts for.
He'd proudly serve her again if he could,
despite the fact
she's forgotten him
and left him out in the cold.
And that's the thanks he gets...
for decades of service
and sacrifice? We both know
he's one of many! How did it
come to this? It's a travesty
that must be redressed.
Date written: 12/19/2020
An American Soldier
A 20 year old veteran sits on the sidewalk
His legs blown off in the Iraqi sand
He obeyed Washington when they told him to fight
He killed when he was told to
He served his country the best he could
Now he has no job and no home
Most people walk by him without a glance
He collects pennies just to buy a hamburger
Money given him by people driving fancy cars
He spends his nights in a shelter
Sharing a room with drug addicts and lunatics
The government doesn't care about him
He lost that when he lost his legs
He will continue to fight
He will fight for food or a bed
He will fight to keep his dignity
What little dignity he has left
He will live and he will be remembered by someone
Maybe by the person who gave him 25 cents one morning
Then again maybe no one will remember him
After all he was just a beggar on the street
And who remembers them