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Poems On / About SOLDIER  9/1/2014 4:00:25 PM
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  237.     

I Bleed Red, White and Blue

I’m the soldier who defends,
I bleed red, white and blue.
Not for our local politicians,
rather I selflessly bleed for you.

I bleed red for your freedom,
the one I protect at any cost.
Crimson colors ensuring that
your civil rights are never lost.

I bleed white for a noble cause,
not a political agenda you see.
Ivory hues this soldier spews,
to protect and shelter you and me.

I bleed blue for all your children,
and their children just the same.
Blue shades this soldier emanates,
all I ask is you remember my name.

I bleed all the Patriotic colors of,
our flag, I’ll never be able to deny.
Tints of freedom and dedication.
this soldier will honor until I die.
 
Stacy Stiles

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  238.     

Soldier and Author

A soldier controlled by his heart.
Had a bright sword to cut apart.
An author controlled by his mind.
Used pen with wisdom designed.

Soldier was a strong, hardy fighter.
E'er bullied the young, weak writer.
Lowly pen was no match for sword.
Inharmoniousness, always discord.

Firm soldier in winds admired trees.
Author liked grass in gust or breeze.
Tolerated intimidations with smiles.
Concealed his anger with guiles.

Mildly used poison day and night.
And sharpened pen's nib to fight.
One day pen broke sword in two.
And soldier's soul bid him adieu.
 
Md. Asadullah

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  239.     

Man's road

It's a long road,

Oh so sad road,

You think you know,

But you really don't.

How lonely this road can be,

Walking man's road.

You walk down this road,

Is so lonely and cold now,

I knew so may but they left me here,

So now I walk alone

I am a soldier,

Walking down this road alone,

Walking the man's road.

I am a soldier wounded soldier,

I no longer fight,

I walked beside so many,

Now far ahead I can no longer see.

Walking man's road.

I am not counted as a free soul,

My soul is trapped here now and forever more,

A soldier wounded so I must give up the fight,

Now I hear the wind call my name,

I Won't give up now, My family counts on me,

I stand straight and walk tall,

I am free, as the wind that freely blows,

I know now that I must let the wind carry me home.

Walking man's road..
 
Misty Evans

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  240.     

A Soldiers Pain

The soldier sits bloodied in his cell,
Knowing if he tells the U.S. will go to hell.
As sweat and blood drip down his face,
He’s wishing for that better place.
His family lay home grieving in pain,
Watching and waiting that he might remain.
The door flies open a whip is shown,
As he lay on the wood block all he could do is moan.
His body brittle weak and scared,
His mind messed up, his hope impaired.
He got up the courage to fight the men,
His life turned around when he knew he could win.
Six years later he lay on death bed,
When a church decided soldiers were hated.
While our soldiers are in pain we sit and complain.
If our nation stands up in God’s name,
Our people’s support will heal our soldier’s pain.
 
Daniel Cowgill

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