A Soldier's Psalm

My views of the volunteer soldier.

 

Peaceful measures bounding harshly through

These sworn soldiers maneuvering, falling, standing to.

Days go by, during these dirty battles of peace,

Watching the dying doves of bleached white fleece.

Created by men who face the cameras behind the fence.

Protected by men dragged from loving wives to their defense.

 

“Here I stand on treacherous ground to solidify this,

The treaty I propose shall guide as the world’s compass.

No one shall fear the tyranny of men ruling here,

I shall guide the world to peace. I am the man who’ll steer.

Trust in me and watch my lead, I am the one that you need.

Follow me and you shall see, how to avoid this nasty stampede.

 

Some say that I am the most powerful man in this world.

I plan to take you all from this greedy man’s stronghold.

As the President I say once more, your boys will come home

Just like before, many have fallen and placed respectfully in a tomb.

Follow me in this noble cause this day, to kill and to save.

A new road of peace, hope, and love we shall pave.”

 

The President is bright and strong in the words of peace.

But all soldiers know that, in sign of fear, he’ll fall to his knees.

Respect is gained through courageous action of the heart,

Not through wise words and driving fighting families apart.

No soldier cares for their ultimate leader at home,

They all wish to see him fall, weeded by a comb.

 

One man stands out of his hole of defense to behold,

The great amount of red fluid, his body is so cold.

The rush of near death has masked his great pain

As he calms he feels more anguish than his BDU stain.

Calling for a helpful medic, he lifts the cloth exposing the wound.

The medic arrives avoiding the soldier’s awareness, he’s doomed.

 

Lifting the soldier to a safe place of work, knowing the strife,

The medic works and plans to save this brave man’s life.

The man is sent home leaving his comrades behind to fight,

Hoping he can come back to shed word of peaceful light.

He shall never see these men again for they die the next day.

He will never know in detail why it had to be this way.

 

Blood and tears has been shared with these,

Who lay cold and alone, dead within leaves.

To have the honor of dying with men this great,

Has pleased him more, even through their fate.

The peace of resting souls fill the man’s living heart

For he now knows his duty while they’re apart.

 

For his duty is to clear the path of the youth

To help them learn in the great ways of a sleuth.

For the future, are they, who will lead our land.

We can only pray we raised them to see the grand.

These youth, he’ll hold dear. Not knowing about his son.

The child not yet born shall be the first root he’s sown.

 

Coming home he is splashed with blood of the sheep,

Who follow nothing like the men who pour, for they sleep.

With closed eyes they judge the world that they miss.

Knowing not the damage done, creating their abyss.

They march and they yell, not for the men who decide,

But the men who fight, who defend, the men who complied.

 

Baby killers, murderers, filth, swine, and men of hate,

The names these brave soldiers receive, annoy, aggregate.

For they didn’t fight for the policies made of men away.

They fought for their brother, their friend whose body lay.

Without the peace in their heart, or forgiveness for living,

The brave soldier held his heart, his love never giving.

 

Blame not the men who comply, the men who never flee a fight.

The hate that is given to them will make them leave in the night.

For the day will come that the shadow crosses our land so free,

No soldier will fight, no soldier will stand, without the decree.

To take away the volunteer all that is left is the hope of empty peace.

Without the volunteer, those who throw blood and blame, “At ease!”

 

Thank the men in green, shake the hand of those

Who take your fear, hold it, and keep it close.

Forget about the policies when you spot the men,

Who stand, who fight, who refuse to flee, so you can,

Speak your mind and hold your signs. Throw your blood,

And call them names. They fight so you can, in the mud.

 

All of this is a story told many times before,

Soldiers aren’t the evil horror or the w***e.

They took an oath to defend this Nation we love,

Orders given by the men you picked, never enough.

Remember this in the name of those fallen over,

“My blood is lost for the love of my brother.”

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Amen! Amen! and AMEN! While your poem has a few grammatical and spelling errors, overall, it is stupendous! I agree with and appreciate the message, and I like the atmosphere that you created with your words. It's a lengthy poem as well, which is often difficult to read. You did a terrific job, however, of holding my interest. I felt as if I were on a battlefield and left with wounds that cut to the heart.

Great, great job!

[Gandré]

I loved this piece. packed full of pride, this pretty emotional for me, what you gave and what it represents. beautiful poem. I add here one I like.

"Ashes of Soldiers" by Walt Whitman

ASHES of soldiers!
As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,
Lo! the war resumes-again to my sense your shapes,
And again the advance of armies.

Noiseless as mists and vapors,
From their graves in the trenches ascending,
From the cemeteries all through Virginia and Tennessee,
From every point of the compass, out of the countless unnamed graves,
In wafted clouds, in myraids large, or squads of twos or threes, or single ones, they
come,
And silently gather round me.

Now sound no note, O trumpeters!
Not at the head of my cavalry, parading on spirited horses,
With sabres drawn and glist'ning, and carbines by their thighs-(ah, my brave
horsemen!
My handsome, tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride,
With all the perils, were yours!)

Nor you drummers-neither at reveille, at dawn,
Nor the long roll alarming the camp-nor even the muffled beat for a burial;
Nothing from you, this time, O drummers, bearing my warlike drums.

But aside from these, and the marts of wealth, and the crowded promenade,
Admitting around me comrades close, unseen by the rest, and voiceless,
The slain elate and alive again-the dust and debris alive,
I chant this chant of my silent soul, in the name of all dead soldiers.

Faces so pale, with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather closer yet;
Draw close, but speak not.

Phantoms of countless lost!
Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my companions!
Follow me ever! desert me not, while I live.

Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living! sweet are the musical voices sounding!
But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead, with their silent eyes.

Dearest comrades! all is over and long gone;
But love is not over-and what love, O comrades!
Perfume from battle-fields rising-up from foetor arising.

Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!
Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers,
Shroud them, embalm them, cover them all over with tender pride!

Perfume all! make all wholesome!
Make these ashes to nourish and blossom,
O love! O chant! solve all, fructify all with the last chemistry.

Give me exhaustless-make me a fountain,
That I exhale love from me wherever I go, like a moist perennial dew,
For the ashes of all dead soldiers.

[Autumn Dawn Gorny]

You feel as if you are on the battlefield. Great piece

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

I will second the amen..this is truth for all.. so well written from s soldiers view point,and the verse about the 'bright president' is brilliant..this is one of the bestter poems i have seen on this subject..love the last line..'My blood is lost for the love of my brother.
Very good title.

Chloe
xoxo

[Tiffany Pochatko]

Wow. This was a really nice write. I did notice a few spelling/grammar such errors, but hey, with a message so sincere and lovely as this...I think it is perfectly okay. Thank you for sharing this.

[Bill Hancock]

Absolutely beautifu! What a wonderful and inspiring poem! I'm with Jonathan, there just is nothing left to say after reading that.


Regards,
Bill

[Jonathan Bryant Dean]

There is nothing left for me to say, except: I agree.

JBD