Related quotes: I saw an enemy soldier...

I saw an enemy soldier smoking

I saw an enemy soldier smoking
a long cigar and the flaming match
lit up the sight
and the glowing red
draw my aim

and the shell soundless fell
under the tree
and stars were in a black night
glowing as if knowing
where the angel of death
would visit next

and I used a branch as a gun rest
took another magazine
from the webbing on my chest
and clipped it on to the rifle.

A soft breeze started blowing
and I adjusted the sight
searching through the dark night
for movement or anything
that gave away the location
of the next enemy soldier.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes

Mother’s Cry of Late

Where for art thou, soldier?
Out East? West? –
And when? –
What part your rabid history?
And why? –
What wrought your destiny? –
For whom
You’d wreak your enmity –
I crave your fate to pen!

What comprehension of the
Order? –
‘Listen up! you men!
Raze to ground the taken land!
See they die and e’er you’ll stand, for
Death is but a grain of sand –
The mighty triumph, medal grand!

Now go you well!
Amen! ’

What sight upon the bloody lie
Of war? – your doubtful fate.

‘Where for art thou, soldier? ’ –
Your mother’s cry of late.

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 soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Brave Little Soldier

Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier (not really a poem)

the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,

poem by Joshua Decker
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Aura

The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.

poem by Jenim Dibie
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Half-curved moon

Half-curved moon
Half-curved moon was brightening in the sky.
It was night.
Cool air was blowing.
The stars were twinkling in the sky.
Half-hearted soldier was on the border.
Moreover, was keeping tight vigil on the enemy.
His beloved wife was in the village suffering the same half-heartedness.
The world was sleeping.
However, moon, soldier and his beloved wife were awakening in the night.
The chain of duties was bounding them.
The Moon bound by the order of the nature.
Soldier is a patriotic man.
Beloved wife of the soldier was the wife of a great soldier.

poem by Vijay Gupta
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A Soldiers Dream

A soldier isn't just a soldier,
but a human being.
sent to fight over seas,
Sent to fight to please his leaders dream,
and as this soldier gets older, his only dream is to live.
But as years pass by, his hopes and dreams are thorn apart,
as he is sent to run to reach the other side,
as he runs through the open battlefield,
were the enemy waits for the kill.
And as this soldier stops and prays, the enemy is moved by this soldiers face.
The enemy lets this soldier flee,
know this soldier is free,
free to live his own dream.

poem by Juan Duarte
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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.

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
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He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword

He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.

So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.

In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,

This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.

But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,

Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.

He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.

He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'

poem by Vera Sidhwa
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I was a Soldier once

Old, tired, physically worn out,
With every move my muscles shout.
Woodworking, gardening, lazing about,
nothing to do but widdle and pout.

I was a Soldier once, large and strong,
I was a Soldier once, doing no wrong.
I was a Soldier once, fighting your war,
I was a Soldier once, mighty to the core.

I sit behind a desk now, slowly getting fat,
Knowing where I should really be settling my hat.
This civilian life I live, is so deadly to me,
I should, again, be a soldier, a sight to see.

I was a Soldier once, Yes Sir, No Sir, anything you say Sir.
I was a Soldier once; it was the life I preferred.
I was a Soldier once, leading from the saddle.
I was a Soldier once, living in my battle rattle.

Those that have never been one shall never know.
Those that put them down can basically go blow.
In this day and age, Soldiers protect our Freedom
In this day and age, everyone should be one.
I know this because,

I was a Soldier once, protecting you and yours.
I was a Soldier once, with back to back fighting tours.
I was a Soldier once, dying for the American way.
and although I was a Soldier once,
I should be a Soldier Now, fighting for you every day.

poem by Rik Bertrand
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The Combat Soldier

Many accept the name of soldier,
Yet sit in the office, at the rear.

Whilst the real soldier, the combat soldier,
Fight the enemy, eye to eye.

Their uniforms dirty, faces weathered,
Hands rough, minds tethered.

They’ve seen death’s hand, reaching for them,
Their friend’s, death did condemn.

Their weapons are scratched, and used,
Long in the battle, they are abused.

These soldiers seek refuge, in the wire,
Where many spend the operation in its entire.

The combat soldier gets a short rest,
Only to go back out, confined by their vest.

For days they spend in a crosshair,
Terrorist seeking them, death they declare.

Combat soldier, many missions did you fulfill,
Many friends lost, forever still.

No esteem or awards will you receive,
Those with the rank, medals you will receive.

Though the combat soldier defends the post,
Their treated like the lowest, or a ghost.

The soldier and combat soldier, aren’t the same,
The only similarities are in the name.

poem by Joe Moore
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The Boy Patriot

I want to be a Soldier!--
A Soldier!--
A Soldier!--
I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand
Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,
Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band;
I want to hear, high overhead, The Old Flag flap her wings
While all the Army, following, in chorus cheers and sings;
I want to hear the tramp and jar
Of patriots a million,
As gayly dancing off to war
As dancing a cotillion.

_I want to be a Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
_Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
_Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.

I want to see the battle!--
The battle!--
The battle!--
I want to see the battle, and be in it to the end;--
I want to hear the cannon clear their throats and catch the prattle
Of all the pretty compliments the enemy can send!--
And then I know my wits will go,--and where I _should'nt_ be--
Well, there's the spot, in any fight, that you may search for me.
So, when our foes have had their fill,
Though I'm among the dying,
To see The Old Flag flying still,
I'll laugh to leave her flying!

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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In A Soldier...You Will Find...

In a soldier...
Loyalty and strength you see.
In a soldier...
Discipline, bravery.
In a soldier...
A world that is free.
In a soldier..
Sacrifice, so the world can be free.
In a soldier...
No compromise.
In a soldier...
Courage in his eyes.
In a soldier...
A special bond.
In a soldier...
Iraq, Viet-Nam.
In a soldier...
Sad, drooped eyes.
In a soldier...
Pain, when a buddy dies.
In a soldier...
Terrible places.
In a soldier...
Tough, grim faces.
In a soldier...
Stories untold.
In a soldier...
Action makes him old.
In a soldier...
Dark, frightening nights.
In a soldier...
Missing his lovely wife.
In a soldier...
Memories of a decent life.
In a soldier...
Scars deep in the mind.
In a soldier...
An exploding mine.
In a soldier...
The thrill of leaving war.
In a soldier...
No more pains anymore.
In a soldier...
No more tears.
In a soldier...
Leaving war, after a long, trying year.

poem by Philip Lore
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Soldier's Tree

They call this tree the Soldier's Tree
It honours one whose life blood was shed
A victim of the First World War
'Lest we forget our soldier dead'.

I read the plaque nailed to the tree
It stated his date of birth and name
A tree to honour his bravery
But to dead soldier what use fame? .

I see he was just seventeen
So young so very young to die
Those who sent him to fight in war
Must share blame for death of the boy.

Fighting more than half a World away
And at the end what was his gain?
Gunned down by one he'd never known
Hope death was quick without much pain.

How can one that you've never known
Ever become your enemy?
Those who send men to die in wars
Of guilt must not be made feel free.

I read the plaque on Soldier's Tree
On war memorial avenue
A lad who died at seventeen
Gunned down by one he never knew.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Silence Is Golden

With midnight gone, the soldier prayed...
No sign of self-control.
For war was here and faith had strayed
And he was in a hole.
Alone in battle like a lamb,
That's lost as lost can be,
The soldier sought the great I AM
And Christ and Calvary...
He had this fear, this mortal dread,
This heightened sense of death.
This time, he needed Christ who bled...
Jesus of Nazareth...
The soldier held his rifle tight
And listened to each sound
And yet he prayed, with all his might,
For angels all around.
By faith, he claimed them for his own,
Assured that they were near.
For suddely, his faith had grown,
No longer did he fear.
The rifle rested gently now,
No longer gripped so hard.
The soldier wiped his fevered brow,
Now angels were on guard...
The enemy were everywhere...
They searched and yet he stayed.
He sensed that God had time to spare...
Why should he be dismayed?
The enemy advanced no more,
For God had other plans.
It didn't matter, peace or war...
This world He daily scans.
'This far, no further shall they go.
This far, then to retreat.'
For God is always in the know,
Thanks to His Mercy Seat.
God's Throne is where our prayers ascend.
Where He alone is Judge.
Where God alone, the Christian's friend,
Stays firm and shall not budge.
He may seem silent as the grave,
When Death stalks all about,
But God is always strong to save
And enemies to rout...

poem by Denis Martindale
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Is this the dark side of the story?

A wounded soldier walks with his gun towards the enemy area.
And he found an enemy wounded soldier with his gun
But no ammunition.
He cried in difficulty; 'Please do not shoot me adjutant as I am helpless.'
Then the other soldier said; 'We are friends now and no doubt about that
But tell me Sergeant where do we go without any hindrance? '

* Really there are no enemies among human beings, all are brother & sister soldiers against the cold war of life.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The guard

We were observing, doing recognisance
on a enemy camp, had parachuted in
during the night, dropping from very high
and my comrades and I had leopard crawled,
catwalked from dark patch to dark patch,
from shadow to shadow
using the cover of knee high grass
and with the sun rising
was in a dense small bush

reporting back on tanks and armoured cars,
the number of soldiers seen,
how battle ready they seemed
when a little boy herded a few goats
and with a bone thin dog came along
and I let them go, not being able
to kill them as the enemy
and almost immediately we had to leave.

Soon hundreds of enemy soldiers
were dropped in search lines,
were trying to cordon us off
and my comrades wasn’t pleased with me,
as things could have been much easier
if I had killed that child
and we went into a river
cutting reeds to breathe through
and went under the surface
trying to shake off the enemy

that was closing in on us
and when the three of us left the river
some large crocodiles
were on the bank where we entered it
and we had the opportunity
to return to the enemy camp
where the next evening
an enemy Cuban soldier lit a big cigar
only a few paces from me
and the child was a far better guard than he.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Soldier

The soldier, he has many battle scars.
But there's only a few, others can see.
The wounds, they did not kill him,
They made him who he was called to be.
Although some of his battles were easy,
Through each of his battles he died.
The pieces, which were his true enemy.
Were the pieces that did not survive.
When the soldier, he goes into battle,
He must know who his enemies are.
They are the ones that would harm another,
And make the soldier, seem like he, was the star.
It is only once you discover the enemy,
The march to victory, then can begin.
For the war that the soldier is fighting.
Is the battle he fights from within.
In each of us there is a soldier.
And each day, we fight the good fight.
For the ones who walk into victory,
Are the ones who find their true light.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Christian soldier

The Christian Soldier,

The Christian soldier goes to fight, a war on evil, every day and night,

Fighting for what the Lord God says. Is only right, with all their might;

They fight the enemy, for peace and truth, yet they are so brave,

And Jesus showed why we go, when He died our souls to save.

The Christian soldier has his armor, his breast plate, and His helmet too,

Then comes feet shod with the preparation of peace, this is True

Truth and Mercy are on the soldiers side, for the enemies destruction,

And with it comes the sword of God, and we're safe under Gods redemption.

The Christian Soldier, those, who have been washed and bought with a price,

The price of the lamb, And we'll win the war, against the enemy who isn't nice;

We have the Words of Christ, bestowed on us, promises from above,

They're full of Wisdom, truth, and justice, they were given to us in love.

poem by Margaret Haig
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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
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Deaf Gunpowder

Come on soldier.
Soldier?
Get off of your battlefield
Let me take you to a place
Where your weapons are sealed.

Come on soldier.
Soldier?
Look me in the eye
Your heart hasn’t chosen to be here
Then why are you here?
Ask yourself why.

Come on soldier.
Soldier?
It’s time to breathe
It’s time to stop fighting for your life,
For something you don’t believe.

Hey soldier?
Soldier?
I do understand
It wasn’t your choice to be here
But you chose not to fight for that;
You chose to fight for someone else.
That is why in life you were not alive
But when you died,
That was when you started to breathe.

Hey soldier?
Soldier?
I know you cannot hear
Because you strived
You are alive
To you death will never come near.

poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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