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Francie Lynch Nov 11
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.
Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.
Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.
The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.
This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Canadian pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
Remembrance Day, Canada
Gh0ski3 Aug 30
Shoot the hands that carry our message
Which read the bloodshed of our fallen
O how the doves bathe in the ink of war and arise anew with purpose
The heroes of the sky hand in their limbs in return for the glory that bursts from the battlefield
Your delicate feathers must blacken at the tips before you’re recognized as the messenger
O winged angel, Fly away, Fly away
Look upon the world of destruction
And be lucky to serve on the winning team
O forgotten heroes, claim your medal from the ashes of the fire and lay there to rest
To grow fat by chipping away at scraps till your stature is reborn
May they shoo away your dignity from the homes that wrote our letters
And how they shed hollow tears when they finally meet your eyes
Their pride lives forever in the hearts of lost fighters
O glorious phoenix, hold your ribbon tight, when you cross the other side
This is, what I feel, one of my best poems, though it's a lot shorter than my other ones. But I still like this one the most.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              Why I Wear a Boonie Hat

Mostly to try to avoid speeding tickets
And maybe someone will say, “Thank you for your service”
And pay for my coffee in gratitude
But they just stop at “Thank you for your service”

Sometimes I meet some other old man
And we ask each other where we were
Memories – some of them surprisingly good
Others dark enough
                                      And we were so young

My boonie hat keeps the sun off my head
And the fluorescents in the Social Security office
It makes me look like John Wayne in The Geriatric Berets
Not really. Maybe a different angle…how’s that?

And young women come up to me to say
That their grandfathers were in Viet-Nam
A poem is itself. So is life.
If you have never,
Lived across the waters,
Strange terrain, from,
Our homeland,
The brotherhood & memories,
You may never understand,
The hell, our veterans, lived,
For us making many stands,
Living, training, fighting,
Together,
For the people & our land.

Good friends, by their side,
When ever fireworks started,
Many fell, like flies,
The hardest one's to swallow,
Those who never had A chance,
To say good by.

A Thank You, and Honor,
To All Veterans.


Tom Maxwell copyright 2/25/2019 AD 6:00 PM 1800 HR
Jonathan Moya Nov 2020
On the 11th month,
the 11th day,
at the 11th hour,
Meagan wore her poppy
on the right side
at 11 O’clock,
just like her father,
John McCain
taught her.
Holding her
newborn girl Liberty
close to her—
and taking care
not to disturb
the many small flags
proudly fluttering—
she placed
another exactly
the same way
on his grave
just kissing the
white granite words
PRISONER OF WAR
LOVING HUSBAND
FATHER AND POPPA.
A house made of screams and fear .
Hedge in by the high brick walls.
A place whose all loved one disappeared
And darkness masked fear crawl.

Here every room has a story
In which each is a character.
But time and world has taken his glory
And called it a sinister.

This ghost house is similar to many of us
Engulfed by our own darkness.
Stiff but eaten by the rust .
All these make feel starkness

As of this house , THE GHOST HOUSE
To the lost ones who are not yet lost
Dez Apr 2020
Help me I cry
Don’t leave me here to die
But they left me to lie
So goodbye
Tell my country I said hi
It was worth their freedom to die
Thy freedom is why
I did come here and sound the battle cry
Forget me not when you pass by
For my tomb is unmarked under the open sky
And thereby I'll never truly die
For I'll always be a passing memory to testify
Of all the names that were forgotten by and by
Thomas Harvey Mar 2020
I met a man the other day
He was homeless, wore down, and his head full of gray
I asked his story, he responded saying there's no sob here
just a life of brokenness pain and sorrow
He said " Son I've crossed the world n back, killed men for a better tomorrow. But behind all that is where I hid way beneath my flask. My daddy fought in the world war and I in 1967, fought my way to sergeant of platoon Echo Gulf Eleven. I was there the day Kennedy died and yes many of us did indeed cry. War damages us, breaks and tears your soul, it's not till you're back home you realize the real fight is here. Brother's and sisters fighting in the streets, I would rather spend my time here then laying in cozy sheets".
It's been 5 years since that day, since then I gave the man a place to stay, he found his purpose again. Today he inspires change, he speaks to the younger kids stressing the importance of the future. The world is small and crazy one little step and your whole life can be wrecked and one inspired generation left is enough to become the next president.
He does not see or hear her since the war
A massacre an apology cannot erase
His consumption to cannabis stubs
And get-high quick remedies
It's been said the children are not his
what then has he to fight for?
These are the consequences of home wars usually.I just wrote this poem based on experience.What do you think of my poetry guys?
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