Daddy, Come Home!
a young woman holding
two babies stands by
a soldier's grave...
while the would be politicians
keep pimping for the vote,
and Wall Street keeps on
doing business as usual.
with her foot she brushes
the leaves from the marker...
and the oldest child whispers,
daddy, come home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Vote for the Future of Big Bird
Please vote for the future of our children.
Vote to fund PBS, an oasis of knowledge, get even
On Election Day. Vote for Sesame Street,
Vote for Main Street, not Wall Street.
Vote for the re-election of the President,
Who supports student loans for our college students.
Vote for the man who is a strong proponent
Of investing in America, and in the future of our citizens.
The Hedge Fund Managers have sufficient money;
The wealthy ought to pay their fair share of taxes accordingly.
Vote for Big Bird and Main Street,
An tell Wall Street that the party is over,
No more business as usual; it is over.
Give a chance to Big Bird and Main Street.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Promise Of A Lie
Go to war young soldier,
Your glory will be praised.
Go to war young soldier,
Your home will stay the same.
Fight for us young soldier,
worry naught about your love.
Fight for us young soldier,
She waits for your return.
Welcome home young soldier,
Heres the medal upon your chest.
Welcome home young soldier,
Your life is now a mess.
Go away young soldier,
We have no more use for you.
Go away young soldier,
Till we call again for you.
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at the familiar house I call home
I am back home, sweet home after the journey
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at Daddy's children, full of expectations
The young man with soiled hands, still jumping on Daddy
The young lady wanting to tell Daddy all the stories of school
It does not matter that Daddy is tired! Daddy is always daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I know I have to travel again from home tomorrow
I may go to the nice places, be they palaces or hotels
Marble floors sparkling with reflections of cleanliness
But they are not as homely as home with daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at everybody wanting to know about the trip of daddy
Everybody wants to know what daddy has brought
Everybody is happy to see daddy home
Daddy is always strong, no tiredness even when tired
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Power of Your Vote
Each vote is an invaluable opportunity to sound your voice;
To be a vital part of the country by expressing your choice.
No matter whether you're black, white, brown, yellow or tan,
Your vote counts the same as every other woman or man.
Even if you have made millions from the Wall Street game
Or work two jobs to feed your family, your vote is the same.
Your power is limitless as foolish, naïve politicians find out
When they don't listen to what your needs are all about.
Government serves you by the power of your votes and desires.
Vote them out if they can't find solutions this country requires.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nameless Soldier
A bayoneted rifle stuck in the ground
with a soldier’s helmet on it
lies as a marker for a solder buried there
in the haste of battle.
No more will he see the joy again
within his loved ones eyes.
No more will he feel the tears on his cheeks
as they leak down from his eyes.
His is just a lonely grave
that is crying out for a name
like hundreds there with just a rife as a marker.
At home, and mothers weep for their lost sons
who fell before their time
leaving their ghost to roam
across a soon forgotten battlegrounds.
The grave will lay unattended
all the time fighting prevails.
Only a rifle stuck in the ground
will tell all someone is lying there.
The nameless soldier
whose flesh had been torn to shreds
lies silent and at peace
in a land far from his home.
22 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A foot soldier
When I was hurt & lost someone dear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the going got tough with nothing to gear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the faith felt small & doubts really bigger
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the sky was dark & nothing seemed near
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the wounds were hurting with no immediate cure
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the hopes were grim & nothing was clear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When storms came hard striking some fear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
I fought & fought & I fought till the victory was sure
Yes, I could do it because I am a foot soldier
poem by Ameya Deshpande
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mommie, Aint That Daddy
The snow was fallin swiftly and it mounted on the street
Little footprints in the snow made by our childrens feet
As I walked them to the good will store to get some clothes to wear
As we turned around the corner I saw you standing there
I tried to turn the children and walk the other way
I prayed they hadnt seen you then I heard the baby say
Mommie, aint that daddy holding out his hand
Begging for money from that other man?
They asked me aint that daddy?
And yes I had to say
And I wondered if Id failed you
And made you turn this way
No, you didnt fail me, my weakness was just too strong
Because you see, I thought more of the bottle than our family and our home
No, you didnt fail me sweetheart, you loved me all you could
You had my babies and you loved me like no other woman ever would
You know I guess Id be better off dead
Than in the awful ship Im in
But death just dont seem to have a place for those that stay drunk on whiskey, wine and gin
You see I die a constant death over and over every day
If I could change, you know Id do it for you, the babies and our home
But you might as well forget me for Im just too forward gone
But I wish you would do me one last favor and do it just for me
When they ask you, momma aint that daddy?
Just say it used to be
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Young Soldier;
My young soldier,
Brave as can be.
My young soldier,
Don't stop fighting.
My young soldier,
You have so much strength.
My young soldier,
Please don't die on me.
My young soldier,
I love you so very much.
My young soldier,
I miss you so dearly.
My young soldier,
Come home to me.
poem by Heather Sandvoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Soldier
Stay calm soldier
Do not panic
Stay calm soldier
And think of what you were taught
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Run soldier
From the danger ahead
Run soldier
Don't be brave
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Fight soldier
The enemy that fights you
Fight soldier
And make it though the day
You're too young to die
My soldier
You're too young to leave
Come home soldier
I miss you terribly
Come home soldier
To me and your family
You're too young to die
My soldier
Don't ever leave me
poem by Only Yours
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's a real story
It's a real story
of a woman and man;
and it's a story
of my mummy and dad.
It was the time
of the Second World War,
they've met in Odessa
and it was a chance
when two young people
didn't live in advance.
My daddy was wounded
in April month,
my mother was there
and she couldn't ignore,
she'd taken care
of the soldier of war.
The war had finished
and my daddy returned
to the lady that cared
for the soldier of war.
It was so normal
to fall in love
with the woman of wisdom
and she was my mum.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldier's Ghost
I bled for you - would you for me?
I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'
I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?
My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!
I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?
Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier soldier war
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents had he - they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with tearful eye;
It's only a soldier's grave - pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high; -
Only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh; -
Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet, we should mark it - the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by S.A. Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents he had--they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with a tearful eye:
It's only a soldier's grave--pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high;--
Only a soldier's grave--pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh;--
Yet,'tis only a soldier's grave:--pass by.
Yet, should we mark it--the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by Sidney Alroy Jonas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Story From A Thin Wall
(DickKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
The music for this song later became "Berlin"
I heard the battle raging on the other side of the wall
Buried my head in a pillow and tried to ignore it all
Every night when I hear you I dream of breaking down your door
An avenging knight in shining armour to rescue you from it all
From the family business
When I see you in the supermarket
With sunglasses in the shade
Averting your eyes from the staring questions
How were those bruises made
It's family business
Children clutching to your legs
They've got so much they want to say
But daddy's sitting home drunk again
So they bite their lips and pray
And daddy don't like no strangers prying
And noses in his private affairs
And if anyone asks from the social
Well you fell down the stairs
It's family business
So I'll become an accessory
And I don't have an alibi
To the victim lying on my doorstep
The only way I could justify
It's family business
'Cos every day it's getting harder
Try to see to go away
To all the people that surround you
You have to sit down and explain
To be the writing on the wall inside
To be the pledge you call your own
And if you run into the day
You sure you know you'll find a home
You sure you know you'll find a home
The traffic lights shine upon
... and the broken home
Everyone could be so far away
... and the white lines lead the way
The writing on the wall
They're carving out the martyrs
Could've been the same this way
Could've been the same this way
Tell them I'm the same today
We could have been much younger
It could have been much l
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Soldier
Dear soldier,
My dreams for you. My dream for you is to one day be able to sleep and not worry about a thing, My dream for you is to dream some beautiful dreams Dear soldier My dream for you is to feel and see life as it was before. My dream for you is to look at a flower and see its beauty as once before. Dear soldier your wife; look at her and know she feels your pain your wife is the most beautiful flower u will see so… Dear soldier please dream a beautiful dream for I hope you because complet again, you may not see the hero I see you may deny the hero deep within thee but the solder that stands before me has Honor courage, lots of pain but one day I hope your pain withers away. The soldier that stands with Tones of pride is a father of five awesome beautiful kids this solder is idealized by all five kids. Each kid has love for this soldier but not just as a solder but as a daddy a daddy that they see so brave so tall they see daddy as there king. So soldier my dream not a command my wish is for you to feel like you again.
poem by Kasarah Fichter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier
He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.
Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.
The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.
Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.
That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.
With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Works - The Indians Had It Right
For The Native Americans
The Indians had it right
when they said white man
speaks with fork tongue.
The Indians spoke with politicians
whose words twisted
like a snake in the grass,
whose promises broke like piecrust.
The politicians claim to fame
was their broken words.
“Oh yes this will be your promised land”
then whisper to themselves
“when we send you to an early grave.”
“Oh come along and vote for me
(for I will put you there.)
I’ll take the milk from your child’s mouth
and make him illiterate as well.
Don’t worry just vote for me.
Date unknown.
Authors Note:
This poem is dedicated to all the tribes of Native Americans for their tenacity in front of the white men who stole their lands.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Soldier
I am a soldier
It started as a dream, a simple soldier from the street getting lost in a shacking world
I took a job as a street keeper but in my mind I am a mental child
From time to time I would battle in my dream trying to win a lost war
I open my eyes in the middle of the day saying goodbye to my boss as I walk away
I walk down street only to tried my limit, in my mind, my distant is unlimited
In the world I am the forgotten soldier lost in an open battle field
“I am the forgotten soldier, living as a legend on the street of nowhere, trying to take my place in this world”
I tried to understand my place in this world as I look side to side
I turn around to see who is targeting this lost soldier
Is my lost soul still a threat in the eye s of the world or am I the forgotten soldier that was blindly cast out
Away in a mental battle field
Please remember this young soldier and help me find my way in what remain of me
I am the forgotten soldier living as a mist in the eye of many
I am a living legend on the street of no where
“I am the forgotten soldier, living as a legend on the street of nowhere trying to take my place in this world”
Find this forgotten soldier and welcome me in a peaceful neighborhood where my mind would freely win the war
“I am the forgotten soldier, living as a legend on the street of nowhere trying to take my place in this world”
poem by Robert Otim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Toilsome I Wander'd
AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods,
To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
autumn,)
I mark'd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier,
Mortally wounded he, and buried on the retreat, (easily all could I
understand;)
The halt of a mid-day hour, when up! no time to lose--yet this sign
left,
On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave,
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering;
Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life;
Yet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt, alone, or in
the crowded street, 10
Comes before me the unknown soldier's grave--comes the inscription
rude in Virginia's woods,
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods
As toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods,
To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas autumn,)
I mark'd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier;
Mortally wounded he and buried on the retreat, (easily all I could understand,)
The halt of a midday hour, when up! no time to lose--yet this sign left,
On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave,
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering,
Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life,
Yet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt, alone, or in the crowded street,
Comes before me the unknown soldier's grave, come the inscription rude in Virginia's woods.
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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