Vc Poems | Examples

Good Literature

Good literature is:

Stephen King’s anxiety 
Laurell K.Hamilton’s nightmares
James Patterson’s fear
V.C. Andrews’s mystery 
William Shakespeare’s grace
Edgar Allen Poe’s rhymes
J.K. Rowling’s magic wand
and the Muse that 
inspires every future writer..

All of that is good literature.

Bronx Soldier

BRONX SOLDIER   ( this is a true story ) 

He was a soldier - Bronx born and raised  and learned the streets at an early age .helping other people where ever he went- knowing about sacrifices and what it meant . 
Sharing lunches with the homeless on the streets and speaking with the cops on their beat . 
He volunteer for the draft and to Vietnam he went. He became a combat veteran who learned the ropes , teaching recruits and giving them hope . 
They had a hill that they had to take , if the V.C. got it it would be too late . 
They took the hill as the enemy came and cut off their supply train .
With their ammunition running low " the lieutenant screamed we've got to go " .
He was wounded in the battle that ensued and told his men to leave down the other side as he loaded up the machine gun and started to fire  and was killed saving his men .
His name is on the Vietnam wall - for he did his duty and answered the call .
( this is in his honor and I won't forget ) 
(C) poetlou  031125

A Man Of Hull

One of our local heroes:
his record of try’s in a season
has still not been beaten.
Jack Harrison VC, MC

A Temporary Gentleman
Not really the right sort
Just a common school master
Who played professional sport, 
But he was a volunteer 
Not a Conscripted man
Volunteering for service 
Soon after war began.

A Temporary Gentleman
Who came to the good 
Charged a machine gun
And died at Oppy Wood.
Charged a machine gun
Tying  down his men
They never found his body
He was never seen again.

Over there at Oppy Wood
His final try was laid
Revolver in hand 
Carrying live grenade.
No body to be buried,
No remains to be found,
He just became as one with
That blood soaked ground,
.
A person of courage 
A man of gallantry
Posthumously awarded 
His well deserved V.C.
A Temporary Gentleman
But in truth I must confess
Not really the type to join
Any Regular Officers’ Mess.

Warriors Thoughts

While holding my M-16 in hand with a filled magazine
A canteen with water and camouflage green jeans
We engage the enemy with a M-79 grenade launcher
Regaining our position as VC fire becomes stronger

Nights filled with fear days the same with no end in sight
Dreams become nightmares with thoughts that ignite
Food out of boxes stores becoming only a memory
Weak from walking one boot at a time depleting our energy

Huey choppers with blades spinning landing to pick up the dead
Tears and anger blended together knowing what we face up ahead
Thoughts of home now faint only the death of a brother
Two hundred and three days left my mind is still in wonder

Will I live or die each day this crosses my mind in thought
I am back home writing this poem about a war we all fought

Contest: A Warriors Sonnet
Sponsored by: John Lawless
Date Created: 09/16/2020

Bullets Flying

Bullets bullets flying, hitting there targets from afar
Blood dripping from a bandage with looks of fear
Tiny tiny pellets within, exploding going through helmets
Snipers pinning down these hero's, to the ground

Liftoff choppers with red cross, yellow smoke seen landing
Fifty calibers with tracer bullets red then red, then red
Claymore mines with a sign, point toward the enemy
C-4 knocking at the door, used to start a camp fire

C-rations with four cigarettes and a stick of gum inside
P-38 opening cans of food, while the rain moves sideways
Punji stick traps, holes under ground hiding VC
Thought’s of home Christmas Day While battling for you

Lz X-Ray

La Drang valley 65 
with air support we stay alive 
The VC out number 5  to 1 
The Lz X ray over run 
the stench of death hangs in the air 
Fallen soldiers everywhere
Bullets crack and shatter bones 
Piecing screams and dying groans 
napalm dancers lose there skin 
Burning faces shrink and grin
3000 strong they Came in waves 
To meet the shells that dug there graves 
No time to say there last good byes
As He’ll fire rained from swarming skies 
Col more the last to leave 
the first to land  the first to grieve 
The Lessons learnt would  turn the tide 
A  small victory for all those who died 
The war was never going to end 
now they know how to defend 
Still more troops were sent in vain 
More blood was spilled  more hurt more pain 
10 more years till sense prevailed 
For all who tried but sadly failed 
This war was wrong and now it’s clear 
Don’t live in judgment or in fear 
We all have the right  to make a choice
Live together have one voice 
Or have the freedom to evolve
Question figure and resolve 
A different opinion a different law 
It’s definitely not worth killing for

Cry Quietly

Cry Quietly

Cry quietly, cry alone.
No one wants to see your pain.
No one wants to hear your moans.
You've killed your first V.C. today
And lay shaking in the grass,
Hoping the others don't see you!
Praying that they'll just pass!

Cry quietly. Tears that never end.
Your girl has broken up with you,
This war doesn't fit the trend.
It's all 'Peace' and 'Love' back home.
They don't want to hear about us dying,
They don't want to hear how the wounded groan.

Cry quietly. Cry for your fallen Brothers.
They died so we could live.
They died so we could make the 'trip'
and still go home to see our mothers.
There are not many men as brave as these.
They died so Americans could still live free!
They died so America could sleep at ease!

Cry quietly. No one knows your plight.
They didn't have to go there,
They didn't have to fight!
They don't know about the fear, 
They don't know about the sorrow'
And they don't know about your 'ghostly' gear!

Us Military Put a Spin On It

Troops confidently led to Ong Thanh Stream
United States Companies B and D.
Watched as air strikes troubled the VC team.
Later found seventeen killed enemy.

Silver Star presented to Welch that day.
Captain Nguyen Van Lam set up ambush.
First Platoon reported trees were a sway.
A claymore mine exploded in a rush.

US Military put a spin on it.
Ong Thanh was a disastrous battle.
VC Victory we did not admit.
US Soldiers informed not to tattle.

Allen and Dowling were two lost that day.
Hundreds of others, a swamp far away.



Written 12-31-2018                          Contest: War Sonnet
                                                            Sponsor: Mark Massey

Wicked Children

Forbidden love tastes the apple so sweet, 
since devil’s issue must be born in sin, 
they bring God’s punishment with their deceit 
and lovers flesh they dare savor as kin. 
Fool’s temptation is too hard to resist; 
the flower’s beauty attracts every bee. 
Impure innocents should never exist. 
Devil’s seed! Lock the attic, turn the key. 
Can pure love purify their wicked touch? 
They must suffer for paramours’ mistakes. 
Why cannot they kiss what they love so much? 
Doomed and damned to feel their broken hearts ache. 
Grown in the shadows, locked from heaven’s gates,  
are children born to live a sinful fate.

By: Chelsea P. Stone
Based upon V.C. Andrews' novel Flowers in the Attic.

Cry Quietly

Cry quietly, cry alone.
No one ants to see your pain,
No one wants to hear your moans.
You've killed your first V.C. today
 and you lay shaking in the tall grass...
Hoping they don't see you,
Praying that they'll just pass.

Cry quietly. Tears that never end.
Your girl has broken up with you,
This war doesn't fit the trend.
It's all "Peace" and 'Love" back home.
They don't want to hear about us dying,
They don't want to hear how the wounded moan.

Cry quietly. Cry for your fallen Brothers.
They died so we could live...
They died so we could make the 'Trip'
 and still go home to see our mothers.
There are not many men as brave as these.
They died so Americans could still live free.
They died so America could live at ease.

Cry quietly. No one knows your plight.
They didn't have to go there,
They didn't have to fight...
They don't know about the fear,
They don't know about the sorrow...
And they don't know about the 'Ghostly' gear.

Monochrome

And I guess you could have called it,
a Larry Burrows kind of day, with its 
grey-white, soft light, grainy Tri-X sky  

while the V.C. and the grunts, continued
hard at play; and some were dead in 
black and white, others wounded in a 
screaming mid-tone way; but you couldn’t
see the  blood, no, it always printed black; 

but bones, bones were always white, you had to
burn them in; in a grey scale kind of way; and the 
zoned exposure, Ansel Adams mountains often 
slipped the day; ( in  a sort of yellow-filtered way )

while my Leica and my Nikons,I quietly stowed away.

To Vc

Memories are like flowers
When the bright petals fall
The heart is webbed by powers
Of seeds growing at the wall
And so the times your lashes
Dance, with every smile and glance
The heart giggles and splashes
Drunken from sips of chance
To breathe your beauty 
And believe your flirting
While in the pew of sanity
I hide the subtle hurting
What was that desire, that love bright
That still come haunting me last night?

Xvi: Yours Freed Representor

Sir – dearest Vicar,
Tho’ you failed to tell
Those that faces in that dark night,
The gods had called the birds 
Fresh from the forced excursions!

Sir – dearest V.C.,
Now, this is another false re-approach: 
Demanding cowries from the birds
For the corns they ate not!
Why are the initial clouds being moved again?

Sir – dearest Vicar,
Free all the caged representors
– We need peace in the communal nest! –
Thanks: yours freed representor.

Ix: the Vendor's Plea

Darest V.C. –
Did not we notice their appearance?
Did not we hear the elders speak?

Darest V.C. –
We saw their assorted trumpets
With assorted chameleon voices they came;

Some: mere relics of the ancient tree;
Some: mere effigies of the orient tree;
Some: mere voices of the occident tree;

From far off the vendors spoke
 – Performing rustic rites in city shrines! –

Darest V.C. –
Then spoke the vendors to the heavy ears of the gods:
“Let the birds to the communal nest again.”

Ii: the Ancient Linnet Must Go?

Darest Vicar,
Hearers were surprised to hear:
“I am glad to address this rally” –
Would our Cape-bred peacock consent
To perch on these foiled hill-top trees?

Darest V.C.,
It was this faked feast 
That held our souls surfeit
That held our eyes in a toad-like
Astonishment – our eyes stood still
Within that solemness of the hour;

Oh, darest V.C., 
The entire world stood still like us
Under the suddenness of placards
Under the suddenness of songs –
Was it for the demise of the ancient linnet
That new songs were hummed in campus liberty?

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