The Collective: The Demented Soldier
A fist, a gun, a belligerent soul to ramble;
A soldier sifted from colossal fears
In sanguinary grounds you amble
With valiance often excessively fierce,
A turret you held not to fumble
Amidst the delusion of mocking leers
In times of calamities, steadfast you are
Beguiling yourself with such convictions
Shredded from a destitute war;
Wrath on trigger, crosshair visions
But inside yourself ran the scar—
The bomb that fulminates the turbulent condition
Soldier lost, wield not a rifle
For treachery lingers not in your dominion
This torment in your head maims you a cripple
Armed with loathe of weak constitutions
So let the bastion slumber but do not topple
Vex yourself no more with hostile dispositions
The crowd roared, you shot the adversary
The king bled from the mirror of tyranny
poem by Norman Santos
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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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What You Find
There is discipline in A Soldier
you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier
you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier
you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier
that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier
that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier
that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man
can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man
buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after
an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier
even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first
and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what
comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian -
I am saying this to you.....
next time you see A Soldier
remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land
is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave
protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier -
I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER
Thank God for what YOU do!
TY bohls
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.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Soldier- Dedicated to Nicholas Shelton
There is discipline in A Soldier you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian - I am saying this to you..... next time you see A Soldier remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier - I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER Thank God for what YOU do!
I thought about you Mr. Shelton, I figured this is the least I could do to thank you my friend.
poem by Caleb Jones
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Kargil Warfare
Words shall never describe
what a soldier is
with a family brave
loosing in wars
all they have
yet smiling to the nation's pride
such is what a soldier is
for when they came with guns and arms
the soldier faced it all
heads held high
for the nation
he was ready to die
such is the sacrifice a soldier makes
and yes!
words shall never describe
what a soldier is
Kargil was the place
this time the fight was for mother land
the soldier could not be held
he marched
without fear
smoke rose high
there on the dusty land
fought the soldier
with no fear of death
he knew beneath
he had to win
and yes he did
his land he saved
but lost many his friends
and we salute
bow our head
for our words shall never describe
what a soldier is.
poem by Areena Arora
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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.
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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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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Soldier, Soldier
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Why don't you march with my true love?"
"We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
New love! True love!
Best go look for a new love,
The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
An' you'd best go look for a new love.
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
What did you see o' my true love?"
"I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did ye see no more o' my true love?"
"I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly --
But you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did aught take 'arm to my true love?"
"I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white --
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
I'll up an' tend to my true love!"
"'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
I'll down an' die with my true love!"
"The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im --
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Do you bring no sign from my true love?"
"I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear,
An' you'd best go look for a new love."
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!"
"An' I tell you truth again -- when you've lost the feel o' pain
You'd best take me for your true love."
True love! New love!
Best take 'im for a new love,
The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
An' you'd best take 'im for your true love.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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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!
_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_.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Soldier Fights
the soldier fights for the hippys rights to protest against that soldier
the soldier fights for the politions rights to send that soldier to war
the soldier fights for buisness mans rights to make money
the soldier fights for the policemans rights to arrest that soldier
the soldier fights for school kids right to know about past soldiers
the soldier fights to so that you may all sleep at night
the soldier fights for religion so that you may all belive what you wish
And yet the soldier fights on
the soldier fights for his flag, for his country, for his life
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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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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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
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An American Soldier
Proud to be in the Army
A government Agent
Sent across the sea
This is an American Soldier
Dressed in a uniform
To show his allegiance
And weather the storm
This is an American Soldier
Sworn to protect you and I
Defender of freedom
and willing to die
This is an American Soldier
Given a secret mission
He completes his orders
Through strong ambition
This is an American Soldier
In foreign lands he attends
To the fallen soldiers
Whose wounds need to mend
This is an American Soldier
Upon his return he cries
Becoming a hero
He says his goodbyes
This is an American Soldier
Gratified our nation stands
With heads held high we aim
To honor this man
This is an American Soldier
A soldier is what you see
More than a warrior
He is part of me
This is an American Soldier
…This is my brother
An American Soldier
© 2009 Tracey Marquart
poem by Tracey Marquart
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This Good Soldier
This good soldier’s in a war
A war that is not his to fight
And he don’t want to anymore.
This good soldier’s lost what’s right
Trapped in war, nowhere to go
Oh, listen to his painful plight!
This good soldier’s scars do show
Of past wounds that haunt his soul
From battlefields since unfit to sow.
This good soldier plays his role
From his fate he cannot run
But these long years did take their toll.
This good soldier’s finally done
No more of war, he closed the door,
On the field he buried his gun.
poem by Jason Daniels
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A Soldier's King
None seemed to notice the man beside the road
He was just a raged soldier out there in the cold
But he seemed to have a purpose only known to him
As he walked along the streets that night through the town of Bethlahem.
In his head he held a memory of all the wars he'd known
In his hand he clutched a medal for the bravery he'd shown
And the weight of every battle he caried in his heart
But his eyes were clear and searching for a manger in the dark.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight.
He had marched for politicians, served under their command
And he fought for all the causes that he did not understand
But it was something deep inside him now that led him on his way
With a single star to guide him to were the baby lay.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight.
He stood before the Son of God, come to pay our debt
He smiled up at the soldier that the world would soon forget
So he held out his medal and said this for you I bring
There he swore aligiance to the newborn baby King.
Chorus:
Some are born to greatness, some are born to fall
Some are bound to be forgotten like they never lived at all
But we're all born to know Him and stand befor His light
Like the soldier who found his king tonight...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier Going To The War
Soldier going to the war--
Will you take my heart with you,
So that I may share a little
In the famous things you do?
Soldier going to the war--
If in battle you must fall,
Will you, among all the faces,
See my face the last of all?
Soldier coming from the war--
Who shall bind your sunburnt brow
With the laurel of the hero,
Soldier, soldier--vow for vow!
Soldier coming from the war--
When the street is one wide sea,
Flags and streaming eyes and glory--
Soldier, will you look for me?
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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Tin Heart
Twenty five soldier boys standing in a line
Twenty five army toys made out of tin
But the last one was broken
Unfinished
Missing a leg
And he stood the straightest
Of them all
His line stood straight
Eyes facing forward
But our one legged soldier
Looked toward the doll house
She was a ballerina
He was a soldier boy
And he loved her
At night the toys come out to play
But our steadfast little soldier
Just longed for the ballerina
Out popped the Jack-in-the-box
Who mocked and scoffed
Why would the beautiful ballerina
Pick a broken soldier?
Any fool could see that Jack wanted her too
But the soldier just ignored him
The next day came
And the little boy set the soldier on the windowsill
But by terrible luck
Or maybe it was Jack
The window blew open and down the steadfast little soldier fell
All the way down
Some boys picked him up and made a boat
Out of paper
And sent him sailing down the Thames
Our steadfast tin soldier stood steady at the wheel
But he wished for the ballerina to stay his trembling heart
Through rapids and down waterfalls
He tumbled
Still standing steadfast at the helm
But the boat was made of paper
And eventually the soggy bottom tore
And down little soldier fell
Once more
But at the bottom of the river
A big fish swallowed him whole
And the tin soldier was trapped in the darkness of a ribcage
For a long
Long
Time
Then mama cut open the fish she was cooking up for dinner
And there was our steadfast little toy
She just smiled and put him above the hearth
And he was happy to be home
For he could see the ballerina once more
But the Jack-in-the-box leered with anger
And maybe it was him
Or maybe just a stray gust of wind
But the soldier fell from the mantle
And into the flames
The wind caught the ballerina too and she joined him in the coals
And in the morning
When mama swept out the hearth
All that was left of the soldier and the ballerina's love
Was a heart
Made out of tin
**Inspired by The Steadfast Tin Soldier by Hans Christen Andersen
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
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A Song For The Irish Militia
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught-
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do! '
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Davis
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