The Hillside
On a hillside in the North
a drummer boy marches
parading through flying lead
wading through marshes
Thrown in a war
he knows not about
he drums solemly
now there is doubt
In the back of his mind
an itch in his head
he pauses to think
and is a shot in the leg
Lead rushes through veins
but still he drums
Battle Hymn of the Republic
he quietly hums
Twelve years old
his world fades to black
he knows war is Hell
and there's no turning back
In the hillside of the South
a mother trembles
she opens a letter
with Union symbols
'I regret to inform you'
is all she can read
she knows what has happened
and falls to her knees
Her son is concerned
as he hears her cry
he runs from his room
and begins to eye
A package at the door
rips it open with his thumb
his brother had no job
but instead a Union drum
In an act of rage
he runs out the door
carrying the drum
to Hell, and to war
He marches with the drum
blue coveralls donned
He searches for his dad
the Father/Son bond
On a hillside in the South
a father shoots his son
he walks to his kill
and sees what he has done
Sick of fighting
sick of himself
he runs from the war
from Hell, and from death
Sprinting through forest
and thick, heavy fog
he looks over his shoulder
and trips on a log
He tries to stand up
but his leg is broken
he crawls for his life
and prayers are spoken
In the hillside of the South
wife and husband reunite
she thanks God he's alive
and hides him overnight
at three in the morning
a soldier knocks at the door
the husband awakens
and remembers the war
The wife gets up
the soldier steps in
in a war against brothers
no one can win
Searching for the AWOL
he goes through the house
wife goes to husband
and holds close her spouse
The soldier demands she get back
but she won't let go
wife stays with husband
a gunshot echoes
On a hillside in the North
a poem is written
about the Civil War
and this family's decisions
poem by William Blake Beckett
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Related quotes
The Seahorse
The seahorse doesn’t do divorce:
It picks a spouse for life.
The wife’s the husband and, perforce,
The husband is the wife.
A husband, feeling rightly proud
(As husbands are, of course) ,
Will say of her who’s well endowed:
‘My wife’s hung like a horse.’
poem by South Westerner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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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
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Letter To A Soldier
Letter To A Soldier
A soldier got a letter, from the one he loved the most,
he looked at her new picture and he began to boast,
about his lovely wife and their kids back home,
which made all his buddies, think about their own,
when he was all alone, with her letter in his hand,
he thought about the love they had, and began to understand,
the reasons he had for fighting, and the sacrifices he had to make,
so the freedom of his family, no one could ever take,
he kissed the letter as though it was his wife,
it would have to do him, through all his pain and strife,
he kept the letter with him, right next to his heart,
as if it would protect him, during the battles he knew would start,
though many men were wounded, and some of them had died,
he kept the letter with him, it gave him strength inside,
the letter told him, all he had to know,
that his family missed him, and they loved him so,
so all you married ladies, with a husband in Iraq,
send him a little something everyday, until he finally does come back,
tell him about the children and the little things they do,
tell him how much you love him, you know he misses you,
soon this war will be over, and the killing all will end,
there will be a smile upon your face, when you welcome home,
YOUR BEST FRIEND.
written by Harry Bryant
28 August 2008 ©
all rights reserved
poem by Harry Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Bay
Wife
Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.
Tell me there are no memories of your past
That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.
Husband
Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred.
Does not the deed speak louder than the word?
(dear God, that old dream woke again and stirred.)
Wife
As you love me, you never loved before?
Though oft you say it, say it yet once more.
My heart is jealous of those days of yore.
Husband
Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child,
My life is yours by memory undefiled.
(it stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)
Wife
You never knew a happier hour than this?
We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss,
Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?
Husband
I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth;
You were the warm rain, blowing from the south.
(But, ah, the crimson madness of her mouth!)
Wife
You would not, if you could, go down life’s track
For just one little moment and bring back
Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?
Husband
I am content. You are my life, my all.
(One burning hour, but one, could I recall;
God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Santa's Soldier
'Twas the night before christmas
in a war over seas
a soldier said a prayer
by his bed on his knees
He said 'I don't wanna be here
but i can not leave
Lord please let my family
have a great christmas eve'
This soldier I speak of
Will Have Christmas alone
all that he has
is a package from home
Inside of the package
was a great surprise
it was a picture of his family
he wiped the tears from his eyes
His wife left a note that said
we are all alone
the kids miss their daddy
please hurry back home
his six year old daughter
gave a teddybear to her dad
along with a note
that said this will help when you're sad
The soldier picked up his gun
and went back out to work
and then he noticed a kid
that looked like he was hurt
the soldier said
'What's the matter kid, what is your bother? '
the kid responded by saying
'They just shot my father.'
The soldier said
'I've got something for you, to make you less sad'
Then he pulled out a teadybear and said
let this remind you of your dad
The soldier went on his way
to continue to fight
and said 'Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night'
Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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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 Brief History Of Modern Warfare Vis-a-Vis Men And Woman
The Evolutionary War Wife: Wife created in likeness of diety, concludes husband descended from ape.
The Uncivil Wife War: Slave man uprises against cruel evil owner.
The First World War Wife: The wife to end all wives. War declared. It ended.
Wife World War Two: No peace in our time. After years of conflict, loser Wife passes Marital Martial Plan. Husband gives all money to rebuild loser.
The Korean Police Action Wife: Too much action. Wife calls police. Peace breaks out after divorce.
The War Wife From Southeast Asia: Linga, linga ling, ling, ling, ling, ling. It's over.
The Islamic War Wife: Husband refuses to submit. Jihad finally forces him to knees. He prays it will end soon.
poem by Bob Eichen
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The Tale Of The Trucker's Life
The young bride sits alone in her house,
waiting for her farm hand husband to return to her lonely bosom.
Enters the husband, tired, and cranky.
He goes to the stereo, hooks up his headphones,
and falls asleep listening to country, and western music.
The bride long since gone to bed alone.
The young mother, and her toddler son
in front of the TV watching movies while the
husband/father works third shift at Wal-Mart 25 miles away.
The mother takes her son to his baseball games,
explains why daddy can't come,
because he decided to be a truck driver.
She is mother, father, and sole teacher to there young son.
She wipes away his tears when he is hurt,
Comforts him when he is sick,
and makes excuses for the absent father
who never has acted like he loved their child.
Who wipes away the tears that the
mother/wife sheds every time she sees
how much their son misses his daddy.
Their little boy puts his arm around his
mother's shoulders and with a hug,
he says, 'mom it will be all right.'
Does the trucker miss his family?
Does he feel the same pain, and sorrow?
He must not care, for he stays gone sometimes four,
sometimes six weeks in a row,
only coming home long enough to make love.
Never does he interact with his son, not really.
The wife, and son now lay in the cold, hard ground,
never to rise again. Now it is too late
for the old trucker to tell them how he really felt.
He sits alone in an old rocking chair,
staring at old, faded photos of his wife,
and son, but he is not in any of the pictures.
He stands in front of the pearly gates of Heaven,
he sees his wife, and son just on the other side,
But they don't recognize him.
So goes the tale of the trucker's life.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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Togetherness Is Gone
My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me
My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired
My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home
My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired
My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early
My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast
My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet
My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?
My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?
My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends
My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume
My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear
My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?
My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?
poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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The Mouse, The Wife, The Husband, The Knife.
Squeek, squeek! Went the mouse.
Eek, EeK! Cried the spouse.
Then, ran the husband,
Like a hero,
Through the house.
In his hand was a knife.
For to take a rodent's life,
And to save his darling wife.
But the mouse, it was fast,
Round the husband, he ran passed,
But the wife was safe at last!
She heaped praise on husband's head,
By his hand, she sweetly lead,
As she took him to her bed.
Squeeka, Squeeka, Squeeka, Squeeka!
Squeeka, Squeeka, Squeeka, Squeeka!
poem by Bob Eichen
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The Nagging Wife
The Nagging Wife
She nagged and nagged till the husband couldn't take it no longer
He packed his bags and left his wife
Now hes living with the girl next door
If you want to keep your husband nag no more you know the score
He came back she was worse than his wife
All he wants is a quiet life
By David Stuart Jones
poem by David Stuart Jones
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The Mortuary Business
She took a sip of
the fluid of her husband's business,
that runs through the veins of
your ancestors and mine. The
glass dropped as
she fell to the floor, like
the autumn leaves falling
from an oak tree. You see,
her husband, behind the bars of
his greed, tried to monopolize his
business with a match. But saw instead,
the cremation of his life. Now,
he stands naked in the cold of
the night, as he buries the corpse of
his wife and business. His heart, now
broken, beats out a message
of his coming end. Now it's
his time to enter his wife's darkness.
A soldier stands
herei stand adn at my door a solder stand ready to deploy once more as he leaves off to war my eyes fill with tears once moreA soldier of one but hated by none brother to many loved by one a wife at home hes not alonei hear a cry and my son dont know whymy sons eye filled with tear cuz dads not herethe men come to tell me the bad new my soldiers gonebut fought real well at least hesnot going to hell.shots were fired shell were saved as a soldier lays in a grave here i stand and at my door no soldier ready to go to war
poem by Jessica Brocklesby
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At The Sound Of The Drum
ARE you going for a soldier with your curly yellow hair,
And a scarlet coat instead of the smock you used to wear?
Are you going to drive the foe as you used to drive the plough?
Are you going for a soldier now?
I am going for a soldier, and my tunic is of red
And I'm tired of woman's chatter, and I'll hear the drum instead;
I will break the fighting line as you broke your plighted vow,
For I'm going for a soldier now.
For a soldier, for a soldier are you sure that you will go,
To hear the drums a-beating and to hear the bugles blow?
I'll make you sweeter music, for I'll swear another vow--
Are you going for a soldier now?
I am going for a soldier if you'd twenty vows to make;
You must get another sweetheart, with another heart to break,
For I'm sick of lies and women and the harrow and the plough,
And I'm going for a soldier now!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Messenger
She rose up in the early dawn,
And white and silently she moved
About the house. Four men had gone
To battle for the land they loved,
And she, the mother and the wife,
Waited for tidings from the strife.
How still the house seemed! and her tread
Was like the footsteps of the dead.
The long day passed; the dark night came.
She had not seen a human face.
Some voice spoke suddenly her name.
How loud it echoed in that place,
Where, day on day, no sound was heard
But her own footsteps. 'Bring you word,'
She cried to whom she could not see,
'Word from the battle-plain to me?'
A soldier entered at the door,
And stood within the dim firelight;
'I bring you tidings of the four,'
He said, 'who left you for the fight.'
'God bless you, friend,' she cried, 'speak on!
For I can bear it. One is gone?'
'Ay, one is gone!' he said. 'Which one?'
'Dear lady, he, your eldest son.'
A deathly pallor shot across
Her withered face; she did not weep.
She said: 'It is a grievous loss,
But God gives His belovèd sleep.
What of the living-of the three?
And when can they come back to me?'
The soldier turned away his head:
'Lady, your husband, too, is dead.'
She put her hand upon her brow;
A wild, sharp pain was in her eyes.
'My husband! Oh, God, help me now!'
The soldier heard her shuddering sighs.
The task was harder than he thought.
'Your youngest son, dear madam, fought
Close at his father's side; both fell
Dead, by the bursting of a shell.'
She moved her lips and seemed to moan.
Her face had paled to ashen gray:
'Then one is left me-one alone,'
She said, 'of four who marched away.
Oh, overruling, All-wise God,
How can I pass beneath Thy rod!'
The soldier walked across the floor,
Paused at the window, at the door,
Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek
And sought the mourner's side again.
'Once more, dear lady, I must speak:
Your last remaining son was slain
Just at the closing of the fight,
'Twas he who sent me here to-night.'
'God knows,' the man said afterward,
'The fight itself was not so hard.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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All Around
I look to the east when the day
Is done and think of it all
All the thoughts that Ive seen of
Satin seams and tide pool dreams
I look to the sun
As the day is dawning
I carry my dreams
From a moment before
I try to recall
But I find myself yawning
I guess they are gone but theres more
So I head out the door
All around, listen and you can
Hear the sound
On cloudy days seems like i
Always feel this way
First break in the day if the time
Is right and nobody minds
I stroll down the lane take a breath
Of air and drift on a dream
I look to the sun
As the day is warming
Consider the things
That have happened before
I feel like Im one
With the wind on the hillside
I feel like Im one with the
River that runs by my door
All around, listen and you can
Hear the sound
On cloudy days seems like i
Always feel this way
All around, listen and you can
Hear the sound
On cloudy days seems like i
Always feel this way
I look to the sun
As the day is dawning
I carry my dreams
From a moment before
I feel like Im one
With the wind on the hillside
I feel like Im one with the
River that runs by my door
All around, listen and you can
Hear the sound
On cloudy days seems like i
Always feel this way
(repeat and fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Faithful Wife
The faithful wife in the Christ
Obeys her husband's word;
Claims her own authority
By calling her husband, lord.
She will love her husband dearly
As she submits unto his hand,
Teaches younger women so
In this her family stands.
The faithful wife perceives in God
Her husband is given rule;
As he submits unto the Lord
But a rebellious wife is a fool.
poem by Richard Merrell
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