Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Andy Hunter Jan 2015
the award of this medal is made to this man for    
I think it was a woman who once said that love
is composure under enemy fire and a small act
of extreme slowness a willingness to endanger
his life between two people who think but time
and again returning to the field he maybe really
didn't know who ultimately sacrificed his life
either of the two parties ever were or when they
whilst carrying the fallen from combat and he
first really gave then broke each others' forever
will be cherished
in our aching
Drake Brayer Mar 2015
His eyes are alive with desire
Embers of brown smouldering coal
A hunger for the flames of the pyre
Upon which funerals are borne

His smile is a grimace
A shallow grunt of pain
His heart the only witness
To the bile that runs in his veins

His words are twisted demons
Who speak no civilized tongue
His oath the words of heathens
Who hail disasters yet to come

Their foreign gods are calling
Silent cries demanding blood
Echoes of the winter morning
Sounds of a spring time flood
This poem symbolizes the way our enemies are demonized in war and made to be inhuman beasts. It is easier to **** a monster then a man. This piece simply displays how propaganda can twist our vision of another's humanity.
Meg Howell Mar 2015
If we were soldiers
and our "love" the war
Why, there was nothing we were fighting for
Just empty air
and shouted threats everywhere
with awkward, distant stares
Sipping champagne at 30.000 feet,
Fangs and claws can never reach us.

No longer fearing the beast,
War and famine spills from our hands.

Are we just,
Monkeys with guns and spaceships,
Calling a tiny speck of dust home.

They say,
Get yours before it's too late.

Dining on desire,
We decide.

Astronauts or soldiers.
Izzy Oct 2014
Silver soldiers marching across her skin
silencing the voices within
marching
leaving footprints; crimson red
fighting the demons in her head
her minds the  battle sight
her skin littered with blood red graves
the soldiers rise every night filling new demons with fright
fighting till the war is over and all that's left are scars,
when the demons have won.
Rafael Melendez Mar 2015
Tales of a soldier leaving a wound open, out of disdain for past mistakes. They died in-content and alone, deeming themselves unworthy of all who ever approached them. The end of the story came a relief to the soldier, and when that time approached, they had this to say,"Blow the fever down before your heart bleeds broken." The soldier died a prisoner of their own regrets, heed their words or regret the day you didn't.
Becka Dibble Mar 2015
What is a soldier?
They are courage
They are this country
They are the bravery
The stronghold
The backbone

What is courage?
It is taking a stand
It is being yourself
It is being strong
Having faith
Facing fears

What is this country?
It is the US of A
It is freedom
It is independence
United
Strong

What is bravery?
It is standing up
It is living your life
It is waking up each morning
Taking life when its rough
A smile

What is a stronghold?
It is security
It is a rock
It is inspiration
Steady
Unfailing

What is a backbone?
It is the weapon
It is the existence
It is what holds us together
The main bone
Keeps us alive

What is a soldier?
Someone we can count on
Someone who holds us up
Someone that saves our freedom
Risks their lives
Faces their fears

Are YOU a soldier?
ephemera Mar 2015
you want to go off into the military,
and i am sad that i am not enough
to make you stay.
Silence so deep,
I could drown,
Silence so hard,
I could hear the pin drop,
A Silence of many parts,
The silence inside the broken hearts,
The silence of things forgotten to start,
Silence for the things that fell apart,
Silence in the still of the morning,
The silence of music never played,
The silence of the weeping hearts that always stays the same,
The silence that was with a soldier coming home,
A silence that he brought within his lost and broken soul,
A silence so deep that we are all within its hold,
A silence that holds us even if where growing old,
The silence of many parts that lives inside my soul.
Graff1980 Feb 2015
Cracked hearts cast no radiant light
Just flicker like fireflies
Crying while their trying to fly
Sighing while we watch them die
Call them band of brothers
Call them Jarheads
Old military romantics
It’s different from the distance of time
Miles of emotions jaded in Technicolor wars
Played out on tv
But never really reach real
Or let us truly see what they felt
Next page