Too far across the sea
in a place I'd rather not be,
on the winds of war ...
another day slips into forever.
I keep my head low,
pray Charlie doesn't know;
once again I'm running for cover.
The napalm flames get higher,
like an effigy on fire ...
burning down my high school memories.
I wonder if love still resides
in the places we used to hide,
or have they disappeared
into a jungle another world away.
The rapid beating of my heart
means another fire-fight is about to start;
the M16's fire through the dark
like a semi-automatic snare drum.
Another battle has begun
“Screw this hell hole” rolls of my tongue;
this is no way to treat any mother's son …
Today have I learned what it means to die?
As mortar leaves the sky ...
the enemy have given their reply;
I listen to other men die
seems life all around me is failing.
If I ever make it home,
I plan never again to roam …
get lost in her forever charms ...
and on the winds of love,
I promise we'll be sailing.
when friend we did get
things have become better yet
his name will be Viet
when poems has a touch
we will always love them much
to heart closely clutch
when Mary gave birth
we would have peace while on earth
Jesus beyond all worth
rode in upper berth
happiness did have a dearth
we would have much mirth
Gary returned to his small town with a plate in his head.
He had been bright but was not quite that much now.
A gung-ho soldier who had survived a year in Nam.
He spent the next year painting his car red white and blue.
He drove pretty girls around in parades after that.
A changed man, a soldier, who was never the same.
The entire town was proud of him and his car.
“He’s the guy who came back changed” we told each other.
Respecting his sacrifice and appreciating our freedom.
A pretty girl
Posting a letter
In November
Sending it to young soldier
The wind sent her skirts swirling
Expectations were in the air
No one would ever know
How much this act of kindness would mean
To a soldier in Viet Nam on his last day
He dreams day dreams of horror.
He could be anywhere,
But in his mind he’s instantly
Back inside that village there.
He hears those jungle sounds
Again and again and again,
Just one of that platoon of
Tired and frightened men.
He smells again that smell;
Napalm that kisses and clings,
Turning living feeling bodies
Into writhing screaming things.
He senses again the movement
At the very edge of his sight
That sends his reflex fire out
Into the dawn’s breaking light.
He sees once again the shock
And pain on that child’s face
And then his mind in horror
Drags him back from that place,
And he awaits his next visit
With anguish and despair.
He can’t run from daydreams
Trapped in his invalid’s chair
Yes death was an awakening
We did not realize we carried it with us
Until our smiles were wiped clean
And the laughter had stopped
It did not take long.
Vietnam was life game changer
We had been thrust into jungles
As GI Joe’s, ready to kick some butt
Instead, we were the ones being kicked.
As trigger explosions were going off and our friends were dying
We realized that death was waking us up
Begging for our full attention which we gave
For there is nothing like the horrors of war
To shake an eighteen-year-old out of his cocoon of innocence
To take his invincible attitude and twist it behind his back.
War is hell and death is the rude awakener
steamy jungle
dense undergrowth
viny overgrowth
thickets abound --
monkeys chatter
foretelling doom
snakes hissing
eerie sirens --
bamboo sticks
in the ground
spiked with poison
puncture unsure feet...
all to protect
an unseen enemy
raining bullets down
from nowhere
~ Viet Nam, 1966 ~
viet nam is happening
his leg is gone
i am sorry i say
and thank you
for your sacrifice
it is not enough
but it is all i have
Watching the lushness pass below me
Rivers lazy, paddies verdant
Crater ringlets there to show me
Wanton murder too often fervent
Young men dying, futures slaughtered
An idiotic, absurd endeavor
Unborn sons and unborn daughters
Our loss, their loss, gone forever
Who remembers, who considers
Those whose dreams that ended there?
Souls for sale to highest bidders
My soul, their souls, shared despair
Time will heal us, time a buffer
Every year as memories fade
Lest we forget those boys who suffered
Too high the price that they all paid
Crawling down the tunnels
Of Chu Chi
I could almost imagine
The Viet Kong guerillas
Hiding deep under the tunnels
As the land above is turned
Into a temporary dessert
With the vegetation burned off
By napalm and agent orange
The Viet Kong creep out at night
Stealing onto the bases
Stealing weapons, food, supplies
And occasionally killing soldiers
In their sleep
The US soldiers
Stay on base at night
Terrified of the mosquitos
And of the Viet Kong
the ghosts
Surround me
Telling me their stories
And at last I fled
Through the emergency escape tunnel
Declaring victory
Profoundly shaken up
By the ghosts of the Chu Chi tunnels
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.
monkey
playful friend
from Viet Nam
sent by loving soldier
60's
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
Army cooks don't do anything wrong
By feeding a "Mad Killer" throng
& that's rather droll
Like a troll on the dole
Who freaks out on a Viet Cong dong
(Machine gun bullets, or is that rain?
Mud spackled riv'lets down the drain.)
Did you ever think that the truth was funny?
Same old joke for any Money.
Burns are red, bruises blue.
Enemies here in their village stew;
And with the same old same old thing to do.
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