Long Viet Poems
Long Viet Poems. Below are the most popular long Viet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Viet poems by poem length and keyword.
The November skies darken early
Citizens walk in
To vote
Nationwide elections
High school gym
Opened just for them
Voices echo in the large hall
Clerks check names and addresses
Pointing to names in musty ledgers
As lines get longer.
The ones I can spot
Are the old veterans
Who spent their youth at
D-Day, Battle of the Bulge, Guadalcanal
I say
Courage to them
Who knew how to be brave
At so young an age
They walk slowly now
Wives often leading
You sense that for them
Time is running out
The hour glass near empty
They never bragged all that much
To them voting is a right.
You can spot the others
Waiting on line
Veterans of
Korea and Viet-Nam
They walk a little faster
Stand a little taller
But time will catch up
And the hour glass will reach its mark.
The voting is over
Discarded papers litter the floor
Doors locked
Lights turned off
As darkness slips into the empty hall.
Across town
Politicians congratulate
The winners
Deal are made
Promises promised
And on this cold night
Honest taxpayers turn in bed
Knowing that the next workday
Always comes early.
~ For International Holocaust Day ~
Never again, we vowed
when Auschwitz was liberated
When images of human skeletons
flickered across our screens
Four months later, Never again
Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Mushroom clouds shielding
Civilians screaming, burnt alive
Never again, we vowed
then betrayed South Vietnam
the Viet Cong slaughtering
all those left behind
Never again? Never again?
We fled Iraq and Afghanistan
Allies to the butcher's knife abandoned
~ Never again we mutter, Never again
The Corsican was never really Gallic.
The Austrian was not remotely Prussian.
Jugashvili (let's put this in italics)
could not be, in a month of Sundays, Russian.
The point of Communism is, it's global,
or else it's nothing. Swimming or it's dead,
like sharks, it fans out (kind of like Chernobyl).
Like peanut butter, it was made to spread.
This in-one-country nonsense once held sway
(Archangel, all the way to Kazakhstan),
but when he died, his system blew away,
as do all systems centred on one man.
Napoleon's snowball stopped with "Viet Cong".
The wonder is, it lasted quite so long.
White stars, red and white stripes.
Blue for loyalty.
Waving in the wind, instilling pride.
Reminding us of pledge.
Apple pie, Chevrolet, John Wayne.
Viet Nam, Gulf War,
Freedom of speech, freedom riders,
Free to think, free to be the best we can be.
Texas, California, Iowa, from sea to shining me.
State pride, rawhide, courageous side.
A cultural mix unheard of before the Pilgrims landed, and the Natives
Took pity and helped them live.
Thanksgiving, 4th of July, Veterans of Foreign Wars,
Germans, French, Italians, Scots, Swedes, African Americans.
All Americans, all united in that.
911 Hero pride.
Sacrifices. Pride to all of us, they were Americans.
All for one, a nation under God, my Country Tis of Thee
8/27/2018 My Country Tis of Thee Contest Sponsor: Brahn Bailey
brothers we be, brother we be free
brothers we be
brother we be free
me and lil bro would have these sword fights
yelling fight to our deaths
yelling to the victor gets Kristina the neighbor's daughter
we were young
about ten
drawing inspiration from each other
and being heroes someday we be
we also put words in Kristina's mouth
she didn't mind, she was like us
this was back in the late 60's
in the land of the midnight sun, Norway
it was also during a time in history
of the viet nam war where these Americans were being protested against
numerous time, i remember,
the house windows being spray painted and broken
brothers we be
brother we be free
we also faced hostility from neighboring kids, much older kids
to the sword fights we go
we fought gallantry
with our little weenie sticks we would fought with so much
gallantry, so gallantry
the kind we would roast weenies and marshmallows on
we were Spartans, fighting passionately
honing our skills for these mean kids
and let me tell you those weenie sticks hurt
it hurt our backside when i sliced off mom's roses
let me tell you
brothers we be
brother we be free
we were also mischief
stealing dads cigs and liquor
sneaking out late at night to our tree forth
one time with Kristina
and let me tell those tree forts hurt our backside
let me tell you, i kid you not
especially when Kristina's dad told ours, ouch
brothers we be
brother we be free
against the neighboring kid we held our own
let me tell, me and lil bro
earning respect on the fjords
fishing, canoeing, swimming
in winter
skiing, especially long jumping and hockey
summer months playing soccer
in time we were ingratiating ourselves with the hood
let me you we did
the best was taking a hike deep into the forest one day
coming upon an inhabited cabin
breaking in, stealing some reindeer horns, girly mags
cookies and sweets
it was passage of life, it forged memories
for two brothers that grew some balls, conviction
experience growing up fast to protect their honor against the hood
but mostly, mostly
brothers we be
brother we be free
connie pachecho
1/21/17
It was the early 70's
Viet Nam was in full swing.
Tommy fell out of his seat in class,
Amusing us, making us laugh
"Even the army would not take you," a teacher said.
Making us laugh harder
For that was when the draft was in full swing also.
Tommy called his mother before we graduated
"This is for you, Mom," he said.
He was under the throes of alcohol,
Fully aware that he had been her only throw away child.
She had kept his two siblings.
However, she was too angry with him
For he had arrived when she was only fifteen,
making her mad.
His grandparents had done the best they could.
But they could not be his mother,
So alcohol became his mother.
His mother shrugged, hearing the gun go off.
Not concerned.
She never liked him anyway.
He was the first casualty of war in my graduating class.
Lost and Found
by Edmund Siejka
It was late
He needed a drink
Sitting in an empty bar
He let the familiar smell
Of cold grease and stale beer
Wrap him in its comfortable embrace.
On the opposite wall
He stared at his reflection in the mirror
Trying to ignore
The lines
And deep furrows in his face
He couldn’t blame anyone for them
Only himself.
Well, well, how we doing Bobby? The barkeep asked
Long time no see. What’s new in the doorman business?
He replied, I open a door and I get tipped
I carry a package and I get tipped
That’s what’s doing
So, skip the small talk Tommy
Give me a Dewar’s and I’ll leave you a tip.
His drank it neat.
That’s some fancy apartment building you work at Bobby.
Tommy, it’s all a young crowd
They got the money and all the breaks
Today, it’s all about the texting and iPhones
They walk through the lobby
In their own world
Nothing else matters to them.
Bobby, want another?”
Guess so. Seeing that I’m sitting here with an empty glass.
Still counseling vets are you?
When I’m called. You see Tommy
Most of the problems these vets
Have is money, jobs and family
I call them the holy three
And we never did right by them
Especially the Viet Nam vets.
Holy three? I like that Bobby. Got it from a book?
No, it’s all from me. You don’t have to
Have book learning to help people.
Finishing his drink
He left
Outside, the night air felt good
In the quiet of the City
He realized that what he really wanted
Was to be left alone.
“My Cousin Joan’s going to let Danny stay with her in Toronto, Honey.”
“Toronto? What the holy hell are you talkin’ about, June? Danny’s just finished college. He’s not going anywhere. What--he’s a draft dodger now?"
“It’s all arranged, Sam. Our son’s going to be drafted. He’ll be sent to Viet Nam. He might get himself killed!"
“Damn it all to hell! I raised a draft dodger. He’s going to be some pot head hippy in Canada. Over my dead body he is! Did that pansy friend of his, Lester-that long-haired loser brainwash him? What’s going on here?”
“Don’t scream at me, Honey. It’s his decision. His lottery number’s 38. The cut-off was 100!"
“He can get the holy hell out of this house and never come back, as far as I’m concerned, that commie coward!”
“Stop, Sam, please. You’ll wake up Bobby. You’ll scare him."
“Let Bobby wake up! Let him learn what a loser his brother is. And what are you crying about?"
“It’s the holidays. All the Christmas songs and the lights. This ruins everything. I feel ill!”
“Then Merry Christmas—Feel better now?”
12/9/22
THIRD RUNNER UP!
Dialogue Proficiency Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Sixty-nine and you are nothing but fine.
Your happy smile radiates a country mile.
Calm and cool you are in no way affected
By others who are not as seasoned or collected
Tony, Tony, Tito, Titus, Tell the truth.
Were you ever in love with a girl named Sue or Ruth?
Do you remember things like being the bomb?
Do you recall a swamp called Viet Nam?
Sixty-nine and you are simply on fire!
If I stated anything else I would be a liar.
A poet in heart, and mind and grace.
Happy birthday I say! You have barely run your race.
Many more decades to you will come.
Relax, play, take a load off, be a seasoned beach bum.
Do whatever you have always wanted to do.
No one else is having a birthday but you!
As a young teen I sadly confess, I dreamt of becoming an actress.
A class assignment drew me to Warner's in D.C., where I
brushed up against black history..
I stumbled into a meeting of the NAACP.
The people welcomed one out of touch, this
young white girl who had way too much..
Months later, although mom's words were harsh my dad and I
went to the Poor Peoples March. I was amazed to see thousands there,
those pop up tents from every where. I drove by with peripheral vision,
those fleeting glimpses of how others were living..
Early years passed and I matured some how, remaining oblivious to "black
power".
I graduated from high school and was freed from mom and watched as
several of my class mates went straight to Viet Nam..
I never went to Woodstock nor protested the war, too caught up in my
story to care about the poor..
I moved from sheltered Silver Spring to New York City and had my own
adventures there, some not very pretty..
I indulged in a little "huffing and puffing". My hands were in a wheat film
buttering an English muffin..
Impulsiveness and hormones got the best of me so at a young age I
began my family..
Many moons later while finishing my degree I learned so much more
about Black history. As a minority student at Bowie State I had a teacher,
Dr. Kondo and he was truly great. He had just consulted for the film
Malcolm X and filled me in on all those voids not written in the texts.
The greatest of gifts that one can bestow is to take off those blind folds
and help some one grow.