SOLDIER IN THE RAIN = BULLETS AND BARBWIRE = VIETNAM

The poetry of Tom Zart, syndicated war poet.
TomZart
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SOLDIER IN THE RAIN = BULLETS AND BARBWIRE = VIETNAM

Postby TomZart » Thu Nov 23, 2006 7:55 pm

SOLDIER IN THE RAIN


I’m just a soldier who stands in the rain;
My memories of home are what keep me sane.
Back home is a land of milk and honey,
Ruled by lust and love of money.

But, what can I say, when I serve her true,
For I volunteered to see this war through.
Now, that I’m here, it's hard to believe,
We're just the victims of those who deceive.

As darkness falls on the rice fields of Nam
Scared men with rifles walk the shadows of the calm.
It's thousands of miles to the steps of my church,
With its stained glass, steeples and lost souls who search.

Off in the distance I see an arc light,
Bombs being dropped on children at night.
I've seen that evil they call the "yellow rain,"
And how life withers when it's sprayed by a plane.

All of my buddies have been taken away,
No more touch football will they ever play.
Zipped in their body bags for the long trip home,
Are some of the bravest, I've ever known.

War is a hell, devised by man,
There's death in the sea, the sky and the land.
Lord, I can’t help but wish I were home,
Back with my love, whom I hope is alone?


DADS AT WAR


Where would I be without you dad?
My hero of night and day
I'm so glad you love my mother
And think of us when you pray.

The last time we went to church
You reached for me with your hand.
I looked at you, then made a wish
That I might be just half the man.

I love my father of this earth
And I love my father of heaven.
It's a lot for me to love, you know
For I’m only eleven.

Mom and I sure miss you
Since you left to defend our flag.
When others ask, where is your dad?
I can't help but boast and brag.


BULLETS AND BARBWIRE


We awoke to the crack of rifle fire
With mortar rounds hitting the ground near by.
The flying shrapnel was absorbed by sand bags
Which saved lots of us who wished not to die.

The hot spent shell casings fell to the ground
As the VC charged our fortified hill.
We killed so many the stench made us sick
While we fought to live and not for a thrill.

Barbwire, bullets and clay-mores took their toll
As red and green tracers lit up the sky.
Before long I was the last GI left
When napalm caused my enemy to fry.

Fleeing the sound of our choppers gunfire
The enemy retreated to the caves and trees.
Then I cried, "thank you " to heaven above
As I checked out my buddies on my knees.

Somehow I managed to survive the day
Though many I've served with names I have read
Carved in the shinny black stone of The Wall
Are my comrades of war, among the dead.


By Conservative Poet
Most Published Poet
On The Web

http://www.globalspecialoperations.com/tomzart2.html
Last edited by TomZart on Wed Jun 17, 2009 6:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.

TomZart
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Posts: 131
Joined: Tue Nov 21, 2006 8:00 pm
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SOLDIER IN THE RAIN = BULLETS AND BARBWIRE = VIETNAM

Postby TomZart » Wed Jun 17, 2009 11:45 am

I wish to thank all for your time taken to read my works.
Feel free to copy any of my poems to save for yourself or to send
to someone else.

Conservative Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web


WHERE WARS ARE WON OR LOST


Wars are waged by older men
In battle rooms in countries apart.
Who call for greater firepower
And troops for the combat chart.

While out among the shattered flesh
The dreams of all have turned gray.
So young and determined their faces were
Till on the battlefield they lay.

Unable to overcome their pride
The politicians cast their vote.
For this or that or something else
As the rage of war sounds its note.

Wherever wars are won or lost
The soldiers fall like toys.
Down through history it remains the same
Most who die are hardly more than boys.

Like monkeys in a revolving cage
Man squabbles for the peanuts of power.
When will we rise above our greed
And become as a beautiful flower?

Death to death, dust to dust
The wrath of war is a horrible crime.
It’s the beast within that still prevails
As it has through the torments of time.


WAR IS THE GREATEST PLAGUE OF MAN


As war is fought it takes charge
And events spin out of control.
The madness of men can alter the soil
Which nourishes the roots of their soul.

Many things will forever change
Far more then wished to be.
As the wrath of war starts to destroy
Those things we fight to keep free.

War is the greatest plague of man
Religion, state, and sanity.
Any scourge is more preferred
Than the one which disables humanity.

When war breaks out, boundaries change
And all who die are a token
Of the rage that must run it's course
Before words of peace are spoken.

War I hate, though not men, flags nor race
But war itself with its ugly face.
When we lose faith in the brave, which die
Then we're not fit to greet those who cry.

What distinguishes war isn't death
But that man is slain by fellow man.
Crushed by cruelty and injustice
With his enemy's murderous hand.

War tends to punish the punishers
So the losers won't suffer alone.
The essence of war is but violence
Till the survivors come marching home.

Sometimes it's hard to defend what's right
Sometimes we're forced to rise up and fight.
Sometimes we survive, while others must die
Sometimes never knowing the reason why.

The rush of combat is a natural buzz
Caused by fear, leaving nothing as it was.
Hunting one another like wild game
Without a shortage of those to blame.

Sometimes victory comes too slow or quick
Sometimes the cost on both sides is sick.
Sometimes God is asked to intervene
To help stop the savage from being so mean.

War is a hell we visit before death
Fueled by the whisper of the devil's breath.
There must be a reason man destroys man
But why it is so, I can't understand.

By Tom Zart


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