Long Warwar Poems
Long Warwar Poems. Below are the most popular long Warwar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warwar poems by poem length and keyword.
She stands by the window
Looking out over the blue
For soon he will sail home
He lover oh so true
It was many weeks ago
From Valletta harbour he sailed
For the Atlantic cause
Following the convoy trail
From its industrial ports
On America's east coast
The war efforts cargo
Must never be lost
Tankers and freight
Ammunition and foods
To serve the heroic
As we deservedly should
Corvette's on the peripheral
Scouting for the packs
For these demons from the deep
And their torpedo attacks
Action stations
As the packs are discovered
Sonar kicks in
For the depth charge shower
The surface explodes
In showers of spray
As lookouts view
Any debris display
The sighting of bubbles
And traces of oil
One of the wolves is maimed
Another statistic war spoil
Days pass
As Liverpool is reached
A rare sight indeed
For a convoy not breached
This Corvette of the brave
And the hero's who have manned
Continue on their journey
To the North African lands
By the Bay Of Biscay
Into the Gibraltar Straights
Down the Mediterranean
To Valletta where she waits
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-9.php
I am the commander
Said the foolish old man
With the idiot's grin.
I am the commander
And you will obey
Everything that I do
Everything that I say.
I am the commander
And the world's never seen
A war president exactly like me.
So the land of the free
And the home of the brave
All of their rights and freedoms they gave
To the foolish old man with the idiot's grin
And watched as the great war did begin.
They watched with great sadness
And all were forlorn
To see how easily a dictator was born.
The moral of my story
My loyal friend and true
Be careful who you vote for
It can happen to you.
Form:
Nightmares, jungles, blood on hands
Unjust war in distant lands
Scars that no one else can see
Memories doing battle with his sanity
Off to war, a rich man’s fool
Rich man’s son was off to school
Some came home in boxes, statistics mount
Media smiles announcing body count
Working man’s sons without a voice
Off to war without a choice
Coming home to hate, the fire fanned
Misdirected Anger in his native land
Dismayed with the war, activists groups
Pointing blame at the drafted troops
So many dead through the bloody nights
Protecting rubber trees and oil rights
After the storm, there was no calm
Soldiers coming home from Vietnam.
Dedicate to Vietnam vets who served valiantly,
unappreciated at home
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
It has been said that World War Two was the last "good" war,
This, despite expenditure of life, treasure and the ruthless gore.
How can it be said than any war is "good" when nations suffer so,
When innocent children and others endure awful grief and woe?
Ask the marine who struggled across Iwo Jima's bloody sands,
Or the soldier who stormed ashore on Leyte's foaming strands.
Ask the folks of London terrorized by falling bomb and shell.
I suspect that they would all recount that war is truly hell!
Imagine if you will the fear of a Flying Fortress bomber crew,
Being assailed by enemy planes as through the flak they flew,
Or submariners pelted from above, huddled on the ocean floor.
I doubt those heroes would say it was the last "good" war!
The courageous men who held the line at the Battle of the Bulge,
And the fearless seamen of the Merchant Marine would divulge,
That they experienced their share of horror, fear and gore,
And would firmly assert there is no such thing as a "good" war!
Ask a valiant Coast Guardsman who defended America's shore,
Or a Gold Star Mother who received terrible news at her door.
They would all reject the inane notion of "the last good war."
Such nonsense should be consigned to the bin of foolish lore!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Beauty tells the story
Of days we were younger
Come join the famine
Lose someone
Beneath the sands
At the Tip of your toes
A touch of the gods
Join the war
And lose someone
Bridges
They mend
The things that god
Cannot touch
Rivers
They separate
The stenches
That man
cannot rid of
Join the war
Lose someone
Among the worst
mercenary’s
Those of us
Who were careless
of wanted whispers
Join the war
And lose someone
Come join the war
Won’t you lose someone
Morning breaks
Come join the war
The warming phase
Alarming as days
Join the war
Lose someone
“The important part is the suffering,
death is just the part that eventually
happens.”
Gawd! I awoke this morning wondering what I'm doing in this miserable place!
I thought the oath I took was to defend America's shores, not a foreign race!
The French made a mess and ran, now, America has to straighten things out.
It's a civil war and personally I don't give a damn what the politicians tout!
The president and his minions are making millions off my miserable back,
While I wade through these gawd-forsaken paddies dodging shells and flak!
Maybe I should've gone to Canada but I would have let my father down,
Who fought in another war and returned with honor to his hometown.
Colonels and generals sit on their butts in Saigon adding medals to their collection,
Enjoying air conditioning, steak, ice cream and the finest whiskey selection.
I dine on C-rations, get a shower once a month and a warm beer now and then.
I hear the screams of wounded buddies and weep at the agony of dying men.
I hear back home that peaceniks call us baby killers and spit on returning heroes!
If I ever get back home and that happens to me, I'll punch the SOBs in the nose!
Nams don't appreciate what we're doing and its a shame our people have to die,
While a lot of their young guys avoid the gore of war hoping it'll pass them by.
As I sit here in this filthy foxhole with water up to my knees, I fervently pray,
I can make it through my tour without a scratch and get home to a better day.
Will America ever learn from history and stay out of other people's wars,
And learn from the futility of war while the loss of our blood and treasure soars?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Honorable Mention in Miranda Lambert's "World of War: Vietnam" Contest
Apr 2011
As I closed my eyes to sleep
I dreamt of that trench stinky and deep
That lovely place they called Da Nang
That I now recall with a terrible pang
The war had to be fought they said
I signed the slip and sped
As I lay bleeding in that hole
Men beside me broken and never would be whole
Mortars hitting hard with a thud
Blood mingled with sweat and mud
They walked with my half dead body
Amid corpses and earth all bloody
Booby traps were set everywhere
Marching forward for a destination unaware
The screams of friends who lay dying alone
Still echoed in my heart where it is sown
And now that the war was over
Why does every sound make me duck under cover?
By- Tahera Mannan
For Miranda’s ‘WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM’ Contest
As a tad his soul was fired as he was regaled with family lore,
Rapt, hearing of his forebear's national service in times of yore.
Following tradition, he donned the uniform as his fathers did before,
Eager to serve his nation in its uniform that he so proudly wore!
He learned that in the misty past an ancestor served at Valley Forge,
To help free the emerging nation from the bondage of King George.
A forefather served as a sergeant in the Battle of New Orleans,
Barely surviving the ordeal on rations of rancid bacon and beans!
A grandfather carried a musket in the Mexican War affair.
Another, a cavalryman in the Civil War, served with elegant flair.
In the Spanish-American fray, a relative charged up San Juan Hill.
His great-granddad led a platoon in World War One with consummate skill!
His grandad was a fighter pilot during World War Two, becoming an ace,
Later to soar as an astronaut through the vast expanses of space!
His Dad, a colonel of artillery served with conspicuous bravery,
In Korea and Viet Nam to free peoples from the yoke of slavery!
The young warrior himself served with distinction in each Gulf War,
As an expert 'copter pilot in the United States Marine Corps!
Recounting the sacrifices their fathers made to keep this nation free,
He instilled in his son the worth of service, while dandling him on his knee!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Trenches
By Nathan Hannen
I look at the moon, Unaffected by superiority of height
With another bang a mortar explodes nearby, Loss of sight
Now the rain begins drenching our fragile souls, Never right
The silence only separated by human cries and terrific pain
The machine guns volley their assaults, Again more slain
On this pointless stage of war enemies hit hard and we are insane
As this terrible era of death continues, Our souls flood
The soldiers faces look blank and scared, Covered in mud
The scars of war cut deep inside me, Another dud
The attacks continue in their unrelentlessness, Our bodies are scattered
With downward spiraling thoughts and morale, The collective heart is shattered
Rain and mud combine to seep our energy, Blown apart, Sinews splattered
I pray this oblivion will cease, My hand touches my heart
This single thought racing in my mind, Of green silent fields and a fresh start
Bodies flung to the side with nowhere to hide, I have played my part
Amid confusion and chaos the noise stops, An all too familiar sign
Onward the enemy thrusts, Forcing us, Cries of pain, Resign
Many thoughts extinguished and expired, Except mine
Bayonets of unsparing mercy pierce us, The men I knew, Cut in half
The mind witnessing the the body laying still, An escape path
Then up with true strength we rise, With built up anger and wrath
Soldiers forgotten like the falling rain, Their souls, A battle long gone
I march forward, One track mind, It won't be long
The End.
Form: