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The pounding of boots
match my heartbeat
as we march on enemy land
new soil underfoot
with gun in hand
We reach a clearing
with an unpleasant sight
bodies litter the ground
in waves of red from the fight
and as more troops come
we release our battle cry
With a tear-streaked face
I charge up the hill
and try to ****
I fight for my land
my family
and friends
as they do too
I can't believe I've gotten
this far alive
my clothes and spirits in tatters
we charge up the hill
and take the fort
why do we fight
when so many get injured
why do we fight
when so many are killed
why do we fight others who are
against us
and not make peace
Because that's not what humans do
We would rather fight and let innocent men die
then to have a world of peace
Kyle Mouat Aug 18
In a foxhole in the cold December night,
my brother next to me trying not to freeze.
No socks, food and very little ammo;
We'll freeze before the enemy attacks.

Suddenly the ground explodes next to me
like a firecracker on the fourth of July.
The sky shakes as if God is moving it,
and the sky lights up as bright as day.

My ears ring and my vision is blurry,
as I look next to me I see him.
My brother lying there motionless,
and cry medic in hopes that it's not too late.

In hopes to protect us, I aim my weapon
And I pull the trigger till my magazine is empty,
But even then I do not notice
For my shock makes everything numb as if I was on morphine.

Now I rush over to where my brother lies
In hopes that death has not grasped him,
I jump on top of him in hopes that I can prevent
Further destruction that would harm him.
As the shooting stops and the explosions quiet,
I feel my eyes water as I hold my brother's body.
He may not have been my blood
But we shared a great bond

Now I weep for him,
As the light fades from his eyes.
I can't stop cradling his head
As if he were still alive.

I watch them carry him away
as if he were a stick in a dog's mouth.
And I wipe the tears away from my face
As I ask myself, why him? Why not me instead?
Chris Saitta Jul 30
You who have never known the loveliness of love,
Gather your heads on the torn pillow’s edge of mud,
Under the wood-tar shadows of camphor-aided sleep,  
Where your low-flung groans are starvations of sound,
And the amputated clouds, insinuated with gangrene
And blood-stained woods, are still bound to the shooting
Stars that fell beside you and flung up hissing rays of grass.

Parents of the midnight sky, the stolen stars of your children
Open their broken mouths to the battlefield heart of trespass.
To their soldiers’ eyes, the floor of heaven is uncut grass,
Wet with rain and mold and the unlifted wings of Pegasus,
Whose unearthly hoof to unearthly earth scuffs the clod
Of the lunette for the cannons to divulge the great, stuttering
Coda of everything old, malformed of breath and bone.  

Some grass somewhere will now seem the hair of a sweetheart,
And those dead eyes will aways stare, too fond of love unknown.
So the dead soldier and grass and sky conspire to hold a woman,
So the soldier makes the truce between earth and sky,
Between man and the divine, though the chestnut trees    
In red human tongues, pay their deep-forested encomium to distance,
In misspilled gorgeousness like Apollo surveying his own tomb.
This is a Civil War poem that doesn’t pretend to examine causes or the sides, just the aspect of war and its toll.

“Lunette” is simply a crescent-shaped, earthen fortification that was used for cannon in the Civil War, with several well-preserved examples on the Chancellorsville battlefield.
Manish Kumar Jul 20
Early to bed & early to rise,

makes a man healthy, wealthy &wise.

It's what has been told ,

by men who were wise.

But there are people,

who don't follow such advice.

They work day and night

even in freezing ice,

and guard in fields

where their feet get eaten by mice.

They are the soldiers

and what they do, is called sacrifice.
Aa Harvey Jul 18
There is nothing chivalrous about a ******.


In days of yore, when the rain did pour;
Inside an inn, they spoke of was and when.
Even then their present was defined by their history,
As they prepared to march off to war again.


With muddied boots, we stomp on those which we call our enemy.
With feasts of meat and ale and fruit, we happily fill our bellies.
We raise the roof with our own self-importance.
We sing of past deeds and of how the battles were won.
Where we once used swords so chivalrously,
Now we fight each other using any surreptitious means;
Instead of swords, now we use guns.


Will we ever learn to end these battles
We insist on having with our fellow humans?
We are righteous in our reasoning, never mind the consequences.
If I am stood before God and He asks me to defend humanity;
Humanity shall stand alone; indefensible and defenceless.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Aa Harvey Jul 2
Left for dead.


Rocket on the floor; dead men in a war.
When you hear the call, come prepared to fall.
Picture on a door shows the face on the dart board,
Through which the injured will soon walk.
Blood on a wall;
You have been here before.


Ghost in the night at last has found its sight by misdesign.
The ghosts disappear in the morning light.
Pocket on a leg, left there to forget.
Written on a tissue in lipstick red.
Numbers to regret, words I never said.
All those people you left for dead.


A soldier talking about peace is an oxymoron;
Put down your weapons of misfiring neurons.


(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
I went to the library
and gathered flowers from its garden
to leave in the cement vases
of forgotten soldiers monuments
that they keep
in their front yard.
in that moment,
i felt alive.
it was raining.
i wish it would keep raining.
I am the element of storm.
peonies make me happy
Chris Saitta May 27
The sky will never hold more
Than all the paths of soldiers’ unreturning,
Laid out the length of undone goodbyes.  
Their eyes that sleep on the wind,
Palace of last breath,
And the rain that falls, expectant of windows,
And those left within to live without eyes.
In honor of Memorial Day, D-Day, and far too many more.
Randy Johnson May 27
We are honoring those who fought and died for the USA.
We are honoring our deceased soldiers on Memorial Day.
Many soldiers fought and died so that every American can be free.
They were brave heroes and only communists would disagree.
Bob Dole fought and nearly died for his country during World War II.
The former Presidential candidate is a hero and that certainly is true.
I have only one more thing that I want to say.
God bless those who fought and died for the USA.
I DEDICATE THIS POEM TO EVERY SOLDIER WHO FOUGHT AND DIED FOR AMERICA'S FREEDOM.
Aa Harvey May 23
Echoes, silence, peace and violence


All we need is peace, love and empathy.
All we have is war.
All we ever wanted was to be set free;
Still they keep us trapped inside these four walls.


Have a food fight with a butter knife;
The sound of bullet’s ricochet through streets with no name.
Life for today and sing with rage;
The super star is filled with hate.


Look at me up in the sky;
It’s so high up here now I have died.
Beautiful bullets in butterflies.
A soldier can never wear a peace symbol,
Because that would not be right?


Down in the dumps, I decided to give up;
All they told us was lies, so we had to confront.
Burst your bubble with a lighting strike above my head;
If I end up dead and my remains remain silent, then do not forget.


Echoes and silence;
Peace and violence.
All I hear you saying,
Reverberates around a room with no sound,
So we cannot remain silent.


Stop the war; what do we need it for?
Stop the violence; all you need is love.
Same old faces out on tour;
Coming back in caskets, without their guns.


Governments lie as soldiers die;
This is our time to change their minds.
Peacefully protest against their war;
Power to the people, we can’t take it anymore.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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