Short Unknown Soldier Poems

the Unknown Soldier has no name but he is my long-lost brother...

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     Wreath laid on his tomb
       My voice cracks as
         tears stream down 

     Can I explain this to my son ~
       My tongue has almost drowned
...

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For Memorial Day, 2023...


Rest now
The wind knows your name
It is heard in the song it sings to the stars
Now you can rest
And rest assured that no day
Shall erase you
From the memory of time...

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We Placed A Perfect Wreath

On unknown soldier tomb we placed wreath,
Body remains are buried below and beneath;
That we respect,
In manner correct;
All that was left are broken bones and teeth.

Jim Horn...

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unknown soldier  
                                                       fallen unsung hero  
                                                         without a name










Tribute To Our 
Armed Forces


Thanks For Serving...

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Green locusts whirl and flap above,
 A long way from Chicago, love.
Out here, the armor piercing dove
will make you scream for mothers' love.
Through layers of mud, I'm still alive
if life just means what I survive.
The mortars thunk, I shove and dive.
I don't think I'm--------------------------.


The World of War: Vietnam.

Gerard F. Keogh Jr....

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Unknown Soldier from Newfoundland
finally back home in his native land;
long ago he laid down his gun,
his trials and tribulations all done;
he was someone's beloved son...
part of a small nation,
part of a lost generation...
we honour him...
we remember them...
a humble "Thank you" seems to hardly suffice
given their service and ultimate sacrifice...

Lest we forget....

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I stand at your grave.
I do not know your name.
I know not where you are from.
Where you fought,
nor where you died.

The horrors and pain you suffered,
were not in vain.
The death and destruction brought you pain.

I weep at your grave,
for the life you gave.
I weep for the Mother,
that gave you that life.

I kneel before your grave.
I bow my head in gratitude to you,
The Unknown Soldier.
Forever Remembered....

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Detrimentally captive,
 wrapped in tinsel, hung from the beams and force fed laxatives, 
the obscene dream of relapsin, 
relinquished orgasmic compatriots glancing over their shoulders at the advancing boulders 
as the romance smoulders. 
They told her and told her it's over it's over but she chose her one leaf clover overture 
and smiles at her teeth in the glass 
sings unknown soldier and reflects on when she was told he adores her....

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Voice of the Unknown Soldier

 Do You Perhaps Remember Me?
 Somehow I Hope You Do.
 I'd Hate to Think You Don't  Care
 That I Gave My Life for You.

 You Don't Think That Possible?
 I Don't Even Know Your Name,
 But it doesn’t Make Any Difference
 I Died for Your Sake, Just the Same.

 You're Here to Pay Your Respects,
 And You Know I Never Grew Any Older
 But I'm Glad You Care Enough to Visit,
 The Grave....Of the Unknown Soldier

 Connie Moore...

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in hired spring and naked thighs

the eternal sorrow did not go, it was living in our
memory under the gun of an unknown soldier. The
mania

had brought the overwhelming jeopardy of artificial
smiles, the swords, and ropes and different

tools of torture brew abomination, my clay
absorbs the shock, the abandonement of pain;

I reach for the icicles of veiled fire to burn
the generosity, the sacrificial amputation

of one’s own neck in service of opposition


SATISH VERMA...

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There's flowers on the grave where this man lies,
The flowers on this grave will never wilt or die,
Thoughts of this person resting in this tomb,
Lay across this nation in every living room,
He died beneath the colors of the red,white and blue,
To keep people safe like me and you,
Nobody knows his name or his race,
All they ask is for on him will God shed his grace,
God please watch over this soldier that nobody knows,
And keep the others safe no matter where they go....

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in hired spring and naked thighs

the eternal sorrow did not go, it was living in our
memory under the gun of an unknown soldier. The
mania

had brought the overwhelming jeopardy of artificial
smiles, the swords, and ropes and different

tools of torture brew abomination, my clay
absorbs the shock, the abandonement of pain;

I reach for the icicles of veiled fire to burn
the generosity, the sacrificial amputation

of one’s own neck in service of opposition


SATISH VERMA...

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