Poetry competition CLOSED 4th January 2014 12:08pm
WINNER
JohnFeddeler
JohnFeddeler
Honoring the Military
2yrs United States Navy. Would have done 6 but the nuclear field is very trying and I was young and demented. Still earned that crow though. HooYAH!
I only have this to say of our military: Every man and woman serving this country in uniform is worth more than they will ever receive, and many may never be acknowledged. Those still fighting, and those came before, heroes. No matter the job. No matter the command, heroes. Even the service members I hated, heroes.
I only have this to say of our military: Every man and woman serving this country in uniform is worth more than they will ever receive, and many may never be acknowledged. Those still fighting, and those came before, heroes. No matter the job. No matter the command, heroes. Even the service members I hated, heroes.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
Theo...I had no idea!!! Thank you all for serving this nation. I know coming from me it's not the greatest honor, but still, much appreciated.
Army, 3 years.
calmly prays the soldier
hand me down my spirit gun
from the rack on bloodied wall
shield me with justice and freedom
as I leap to the bugle’s call.
on the brazen feet of Mercury
I will rush to the cannon’s sound
to the ghostly eyes of my enemy
with my comrades, to combat bound.
send news of the boisterous fighting
to the worried awaiting the story
on the hills and the peaceable shores
that poems may be writ of the glory.
keep safe the women who orchestrate me
their hearts and their love I keep near
and when I am hurried to battle
their tears wash away my fear.
calmly prays the soldier
hand me down my spirit gun
from the rack on bloodied wall
shield me with justice and freedom
as I leap to the bugle’s call.
on the brazen feet of Mercury
I will rush to the cannon’s sound
to the ghostly eyes of my enemy
with my comrades, to combat bound.
send news of the boisterous fighting
to the worried awaiting the story
on the hills and the peaceable shores
that poems may be writ of the glory.
keep safe the women who orchestrate me
their hearts and their love I keep near
and when I am hurried to battle
their tears wash away my fear.
Anonymous
Navy 9 years
This poem was penned in the Indian Ocean ship board during
WESTPAC 84
From my diary
21 June 7pm we started taken some heavy rolls maybe 20 to 40 degrees? It’s pretty messed up, with every roll something crashes and the ship groans. Thinking of somewhere else than here…
LOVES HOME COMING
No one knew I had come home
and looking up the walk I saw
her standing in the sunshine that
was pouring on her through the
doors window, eyes closed soaking
it in as I knew she always liked to do.
Moving as without a sound I step in
front of the door, long moments pass
before she opened her eyes as I soaked
her view in, then long minutes pass like
the same as when I had went away
starring into each other’s eyes not
wanting to let go of our loving gaze.
My imagination rode high as a bird
can fly and she knew and I knew, our
minds prowled restlessly looking each
other up and down.
Oh darling I read her lips to say as the
door opened and we found ourselves where
we left off from so long ago, lost in our
lovers embrace her sailor had come home
again.
The Price of Freedom is YOU and ME
This poem was penned in the Indian Ocean ship board during
WESTPAC 84
From my diary
21 June 7pm we started taken some heavy rolls maybe 20 to 40 degrees? It’s pretty messed up, with every roll something crashes and the ship groans. Thinking of somewhere else than here…
LOVES HOME COMING
No one knew I had come home
and looking up the walk I saw
her standing in the sunshine that
was pouring on her through the
doors window, eyes closed soaking
it in as I knew she always liked to do.
Moving as without a sound I step in
front of the door, long moments pass
before she opened her eyes as I soaked
her view in, then long minutes pass like
the same as when I had went away
starring into each other’s eyes not
wanting to let go of our loving gaze.
My imagination rode high as a bird
can fly and she knew and I knew, our
minds prowled restlessly looking each
other up and down.
Oh darling I read her lips to say as the
door opened and we found ourselves where
we left off from so long ago, lost in our
lovers embrace her sailor had come home
again.
The Price of Freedom is YOU and ME
Anonymous
10 years active US NAVY Seabees + 4 more years Reserves..I should have stayed till retirement but the times were much different back then and my kids needed their father. Freedom isn't free, too many of my high school friends and so many more paid the ultimate price. Thank each of You for your service, its very much appreciated 
sw9618 said:I know coming from me it's not the greatest honor, but still, much appreciated.
you're wrong. hearing it at all makes me proud if just for a moment, and I'm sure it's true for others. the worst part of the experience was being on that ship for months, being tired as hell and feeling like I wasn't worth a damn. good life experience though
you're wrong. hearing it at all makes me proud if just for a moment, and I'm sure it's true for others. the worst part of the experience was being on that ship for months, being tired as hell and feeling like I wasn't worth a damn. good life experience though
Anonymous
24 Years Air Force Security Forces, still active.
Thanks to all for their service.
The Filthy Providence
The Grunts had been out
for three days,
they busted each other's
ball all the way back
to their hootches.
"Shit man, You are so fucking dirty,
you'd git kicked out da'muthafukkin rainforest!"
"Look who's talkin' bitch!"
"They need to hose yo' ass off wit a goddamn fire truck!"
They had forgotten
all of the bullshit from the Op,
showers and chow were close at hand.
Filthy faces of freedom
cracked smiles, and grabbed ass.
Smoked their cigarettes,
and reveled
in the stink of their own farts,
like spoiled Kings on thrones.
The terror could wait,
till the darkness of the planet
matched that of their minds.
Losses are better counted
on hands with all fingers still attached.
Attached to arms,
which are attached to torsos,
with hearts inside,
which still pump living blood.
In arterial bright red
and venal dark red.
That left permanent stains
on fatigues,
cut off and dumped on ER floors.
The last insult
had been on the chopper ride back,
the Shithook took SAFIRE
fifteen mike out from the LZ.
Seven DsHk rounds
tore through the bulkhead,
just missing a Lcpl's head by 4 inches,
motherfucker laughed for 45 mins straight.
The Skipper just shook his head,
he had gotten salty real quick.
Second trip to the Suck,
lost his Cherry in Fallujah,
but this place was something else.
It was like Fighting
in a National Park,
like Yosemite and shit....
The Platoon was down three,
2 KIA and 1 Cat B WIA.
Doc got greased going after a PFC
zapped by a sniper,
and another got shrapnel from an RPG.
Too bad,
they were short time,
double digit midgets,
sad, sad, sad.
Payback was weak,
3 unconfirmed INS EKIA,
fucking Army Apaches
could not confirm the body count.
The Grunts would grieve,
but inside,
the feelings were all the same,
"Semper Fi and shit,
but better his ass,
than mine!"
Thanks to all for their service.
The Filthy Providence
The Grunts had been out
for three days,
they busted each other's
ball all the way back
to their hootches.
"Shit man, You are so fucking dirty,
you'd git kicked out da'muthafukkin rainforest!"
"Look who's talkin' bitch!"
"They need to hose yo' ass off wit a goddamn fire truck!"
They had forgotten
all of the bullshit from the Op,
showers and chow were close at hand.
Filthy faces of freedom
cracked smiles, and grabbed ass.
Smoked their cigarettes,
and reveled
in the stink of their own farts,
like spoiled Kings on thrones.
The terror could wait,
till the darkness of the planet
matched that of their minds.
Losses are better counted
on hands with all fingers still attached.
Attached to arms,
which are attached to torsos,
with hearts inside,
which still pump living blood.
In arterial bright red
and venal dark red.
That left permanent stains
on fatigues,
cut off and dumped on ER floors.
The last insult
had been on the chopper ride back,
the Shithook took SAFIRE
fifteen mike out from the LZ.
Seven DsHk rounds
tore through the bulkhead,
just missing a Lcpl's head by 4 inches,
motherfucker laughed for 45 mins straight.
The Skipper just shook his head,
he had gotten salty real quick.
Second trip to the Suck,
lost his Cherry in Fallujah,
but this place was something else.
It was like Fighting
in a National Park,
like Yosemite and shit....
The Platoon was down three,
2 KIA and 1 Cat B WIA.
Doc got greased going after a PFC
zapped by a sniper,
and another got shrapnel from an RPG.
Too bad,
they were short time,
double digit midgets,
sad, sad, sad.
Payback was weak,
3 unconfirmed INS EKIA,
fucking Army Apaches
could not confirm the body count.
The Grunts would grieve,
but inside,
the feelings were all the same,
"Semper Fi and shit,
but better his ass,
than mine!"
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
(Shattered Dreams)
How wonderful it is
to see the birds flying freely,
as they start to migrate
Put them in a cage
they will cry and eventually die
How much more—those dainty people,
oppressed and tongue-tied
caught within a gossamer
of lies and deceit,
shackled to their dreams,
prisoners within their own land
Don’t you think they wish,
they were the flying birds?
What happens when their dreams
are shattered and their hope is gone?
Lost lives of loved ones,
are they not enough?
To sacrifice one’s life
over prolonged suffering
would it be a better choice?
Maybe it is…
for someone once said,
“Give me liberty, or give me death.”
How many more innocents lives
shall perish to satisfy one’s lust
for blood and greed for power?
Collateral damage—on both sides:
non-stop salvos of automatic rifles
music to your ears for three
consecutive days,
stinking dead bodies,
and stench of dying souls
surround you in your shit-hole
Only the silent cries of your son
and the will to live
keep you from dying
I could only imagine
the unimaginable things
in my deepest thoughts
I could only hope and pray
my dear brother,
that you be spared
from the wickedness of cruel war
and the agony of a grotesque death!
It fills my heart with insurmountable joy
knowing your last deployment is over
only to be broken with a sad news:
you arrived home in a body bag
got caught in the middle
of a friendly gunfire.
I couldn’t believe
how fast time
time flies
Your
dreams
for your son
maybe shattered,
but your memory lives on
in him who is now a captain
in the Air Force of the United States
ready to serve and protect his motherland…
(We salute and thank you all comrades-in-arms, both living and dead for your ultimate sacrifices!)
The Warrior
Occasionally
I miss the war
It’s not the desert heat
or shitting in the sand
It’s the battle
Raising my weapon
aiming
firing
watching a head ripped apart
the turban turning red
Anxiously combing
through Baghdad’s homes
hoping to shoot and kill
Invading a region
on a mission
gone terribly awry
Fallujah’s urban warfare
bullets sizzling by
Insurgents scattered in the streets
with bullet riddled bodies
Dodging friendly fire of incompetence
and the brawls that ensued
I miss the unspeakable
that haunts at night
yet drifts into nostalgia by day
Occasionally
I miss the war
It’s not the desert heat
or shitting in the sand
It’s the battle
Raising my weapon
aiming
firing
watching a head ripped apart
the turban turning red
Anxiously combing
through Baghdad’s homes
hoping to shoot and kill
Invading a region
on a mission
gone terribly awry
Fallujah’s urban warfare
bullets sizzling by
Insurgents scattered in the streets
with bullet riddled bodies
Dodging friendly fire of incompetence
and the brawls that ensued
I miss the unspeakable
that haunts at night
yet drifts into nostalgia by day
Marine Corps 4yrs 0311
I had a conversation with Sancho
about many things, many themes,
but mostly about memories I didn't
know that I had a long time ago.
Operations,inept officers,dead friends
that suddenly had names to go along
with newly remembered faces.
"We were an elite unit, all the things
we did. Things most people could never
understand: What we went through,
how we killed, how they now kill
us off with meds."
Over and over he kept repeating it
and I couldn't help but feel special,
until I remembered that we were
rifleman like all other riflemen
in a battalion like all other battalions
blown with the blind luck of war
that decides who goes where and when
where bullets land when objects explode
who is there to receive them whose
births come just in time for the next war
to turn more youth into old men.
I had a conversation with Sancho
about many things, many themes,
but mostly about memories I didn't
know that I had a long time ago.
Operations,inept officers,dead friends
that suddenly had names to go along
with newly remembered faces.
"We were an elite unit, all the things
we did. Things most people could never
understand: What we went through,
how we killed, how they now kill
us off with meds."
Over and over he kept repeating it
and I couldn't help but feel special,
until I remembered that we were
rifleman like all other riflemen
in a battalion like all other battalions
blown with the blind luck of war
that decides who goes where and when
where bullets land when objects explode
who is there to receive them whose
births come just in time for the next war
to turn more youth into old men.
