Long Warold Poems
Long Warold Poems. Below are the most popular long Warold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warold poems by poem length and keyword.
At four years old she kissed him goodbye
In his splendid soldier’s uniform
She was saddened to see her mother cry
As he set off for a land that’s foreign
She didn’t understand the reasons
Why her Daddy had to go
She only knew it was a soldier’s duty
Because her Daddy had told her so
By five years old she had forgotten his smell
From the after-shave when he gave her a kiss
She had gotten used to life without Dad
But by her mother, every day he was missed
Today her father came home
Though it wasn’t a day full of smiles
He would be traveling in a wooden box
Across the many miles
Six soldiers carried him off of the plane
With an American flag draped over the top
She watched the tears flow from Mommy’s eyes
As if they’d never stop
She stood up and she saluted them
The way her Daddy had shown
Not completely cognizant
Of the eternity of his new home
When Daddies of little children
Die for some vague political cause
Every living human being
Should stop in thoughtful pause
In wars there are no winners
Just some who loose much more
Victory has hollow meaning
When Daddy dies when you are four
The old man stood silently, head bowed
Fighting back tears that needed to flow freely
A young Marine was playing Taps on the hill above
He and his wife shattered by the recent events
Holding on to his sanity with the loss of his son
War? What is it good for, what purpose does it serve
In defense of our nation, yes
For the protection of our freedom, yes
To fill a hunger for power, no; a thirst for greed, never
Oh God, to lose your child, the war never ends
As the last note is played, his knees buckle in grief
My son, Oh God, my son, Taps echoing in the distance
If his death served a purpose there could be a closing
If for one moment he could believe but it wasn’t there
Looking at his wife and the despair in her eyes he remembers
The words to an old folk song play over and over in his mind
When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?
In the days to come, he’ll sit by his son’s grave and talk
One sided conversations but he knows he hears him
So much to say, family, politics, war, questions unanswered
Why did you have to die son, Why? Dear God, tell me why
War, What is it good for? What purpose under heaven
A grieving father, an inconsolable mother, the answer burns
Absolutely nothing!
He stormed Omaha Beach in Normandy during the Second World War.
The old soldier knew all too well the din of battle and its heinous gore.
He'd fought his way through France ending up in the Battle of The Bulge.
He was hailed as a hero, but was loath his heroic deeds to divulge.
They pinned medals upon his breast - he suffered through the accolades,
And was honored by his hometown folks marching in their parades.
But there was something lacking - he was listless when among others.
He desperately missed his buddies - they'd become as close as brothers.
Through many restless nights he wrestled with demons from the past,
Tortured by bloody battlefield scenes and the thunder of cannon blast.
He was turned down by government agencies trying to relieve his plight,
And was met with unconcern at every turn - it seemed a hopeless fight.
He became addicted to the Devil's curse, the bottle, out of desperation.
Friends and family forsook him - he was headed for a life of devastation.
He was seen pushing an old grocery cart here and there about the town,
That held his meager belongings - he looked so pitiful and so worn-down.
The headlines read: "Veteran found dead beneath a blanket of snow!"
He'd sought shelter 'neath an overpass when it was twenty-one below.
He was buried with military honors while "Taps" sounded o'er his grave.
Come on America! Can't we do better than this for America's brave?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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