|Best Poems About / On SOLDIER
A Soldier's Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
and on the wall pictures of far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought came to my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,
the home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
'Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.'
the soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
and we both shivered from the cold evening's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, 'Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure.'
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
'Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.'
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The Soldier's Wife
Slinging, with a gun that glinted with valor,
Oh the ineptitude in my faces squalor
How she had wanted to become veiled;
With a soldiers hand at the small of her back,
That smile of his, portraying a cold war in between
My desire, and my obsession I am entrapped
Between two hands like pillars, but never inside a heart
Singing, of memories from a warfare of souls
Freezing, from where the stifling cold wind blows
Scars, just to prove that in a mans life, scars would portray
How disdain can commandeer a ship back to its port,
How amore can manipulate fate and other things
And how desolation can extinguish the flame of consolation
I can never be a soldier, though I have feigned to be one
What is in a soldier that you are enamored to so much?
Is it his camouflaged frame of sullied brown and green
Or is it his rifle, sprawling down his adamantine shoulder?
Perhaps it is his stories, and how he has searched for you in the night
And how blinding it has been inside an ornate forest without light
So you chose to take his hand of calloused tragedies famed stories
I admit, to this day, up to the last
That I am a jealous man, and I hate as fast
As winter, as stones tremble by the bay,
Like summer, how it razes the childrens day
Or perhaps, like no season at all windless, starless, moonless, azure
A sky without constellations and clear from the presence of the clouds
How I envy you, poor, downtrodden soldier
And how you possessed her heart, with superb marksmanship
Take her to war, take her to peace sojourn into the wild, cruise on a ship
I am jealous and an envious man may be culpable to say, You belligerent fool.
Yet what depth of enmity, what height of antagonism cannot destroy
This bastion of a man, this fortress of a heart, this clemency in between souls
And so I lay there lifeless, like one of this soldiers dead adversaries.
I watched the both of you, up in the heavens,
Yet underneath the fraying sheets of my room, where there is a battle!
I have no weapons to lay at hand only frailty and wishful thinking
That you, the soldiers wife, would come back to me, just like any other musing
And understand that not every man can be a soldier, but every man can love
The truest perhaps truer than a soldiers heart.
Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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Santa Meets A Soldier!
It would not be surprising
if Santa Claus were real,
That hed stop inside a soldiers house,
And be emotionally struck I feel.
For whats important to a soldier,
Is not worthy to be compared,
To whatever anyone else wants,
For his thinking will lay elsewhere!
While the world sees pretty packages,
All wrapped tightly with ribbons and bows,
The soldier only sees the bandages
On the injured both friends and foes.
If a soldier ever gets to sleep
Its in a hole he dug himself,
Using entrenching tools he carries
On his green ammunition belt!
So Santa please just let him rest,
No milk and cookies you will find.
His mind dreams of vivid battles,
And how to avoid a claymore mine!
Santa, when he was just a lad
He thought not of what would be today.
And he never gave a second thought
Those guns would be real someday!
Inside the heart of every boy
Is a soldier to be loosed in war.
And he dreams of becoming a hero,
As he is today and so much more!
So Santa all those toys you brought
That put the pacifists in wild uproars,
But they shaped our American Soldiers,
And prepared their hearts for war!
Perhaps that soldier is dreaming
He's standing under the mistletoe,
And kissing the girl he was courting,
Before his unit was shipped out to go!
Please Santa let that soldier sleep,
In the corner down on the floor,
You leave 'HIM' milk and cookies,
And salute as you leave his door!
Robert Edgar Burns
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A Story Of Two Soldiers
A story of a soldier, with a heart
Who came upon a dead Japanese soldier
With a letter sticking out his pocket, in the war
This soldier took the letter, obviously
The important treasure of the dead one.
He framed it and stored it;
Another man's most prized possessions,
Of a child's colored picture, and a baby's photo.
Years later, and someone notices
The framed paper, and suggests
Trying to track down the original family
And though it seems impossible:
The impossible is accomplished,
Through another soldier's care, though he was
A stranger to the poor dead soldier
He must have felt their close brotherhood,
As two soldiers engaged in a difficult war.
And there is a woman now,
Who cradles the picture she colored
As a small child; and her baby sister
In the photo at the top; also living, now an adult
She said, Father never returned to us
We never had a chance to know him
But now we know him; he's come back
We know who he was thinking about
At the end- this man gave our father back to us.
And the old soldier has a new friend now;
If you treat the other side's soldier as no less
Than your own family
His family will come to know you in time,
As truest friend,
And closer to heart
Than any grief could ever reach.
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