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Poems On / About SOLDIER  3/5/2015 8:22:06 PM
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  313.     

Misdirected Soldier

African soldier, American warrior

Power to the black man

The earth is your battlefield

It is the earth that drinks your blood

It is into the earth that you bleed

Is this what you'll teach your seed?

Will you still wage war on another African soldier, American warrior?

Have you looked in the mirror?

It is you that you shoot

It is you that you stab

It is you that you lay to rest

How have you gotten caught up in this mess?

It was once a time that you went to war on your enemy

When have you become the enemy?

When was it?

When was the moment that you drew your bow and

You pointed your arrow at your own reflection

When was it?

The misdirected soldier

Your captain never showed you which line to stand on

The misdirected soldier

The angry African warrior

When will you look in the mirror?

To see yourself

To tell yourself

To be yourself

Walking in a line going backwards

Misdirected soldier

When will you notice that your war paint has faded?

When will you notice that your mind is now jaded?

Power to the black man

You've heard it but you can't understand it
As you look at the dirt

As you search mother earth

You try to redirect yourself

You try to impress yourself

Yet you suppress yourself

Being a soldier means you can free yourself

From the enemy within yourself
 
K.C Baylor

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  314.     

He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword

He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.

So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.

In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,


This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.

But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,

Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.


He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.


He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'
 
Vera Sidhwa

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  315.     

The Forgotten Soldier

The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Scarred for all eternity. Searching for divinity. Prayer yet to be answered. Smoking has just brought cancer. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Looking for forgiveness in all the wrong places. So many name and so many faces. An anecdotal pun he has become. A history lesson has been undone. Wars never can be won. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. In his eyes lies the blood of many. Sleepless nights of sacrifice and murder. And in the end their is no one to comfort him. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Times have changed. Now he can only wish he was flying a jet plane. Treated like dirt. Crippled and weak. And the man just turns the other cheek. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Today is his birthday and he spends it in a nursing home all alone. To all he is forgotten dead and gone. But i remember, i remember all the forgotten soldiers.
 
Ace Of Black Hearts

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  316.     

Like A Toy Soldier

Like a toy soldier,
We were pushed to the war front,
Some gave up on the way,
Some fell by the enemy’s bullet,
Yet, all in all,
We were all tools in your hand.

Like a toy soldier,
You gather us together,
Each serving different functions,
Some for good, and some for bad,
Some to serve as example to others,
Yet at the peak of our life,
We will eventually realise,
You have always been our director,
We were actors in a play.

Like a toy soldier,
We have always moved like zombie,
When those in front fall,
We never take lessons,
We still fall for the mistake of our fathers.

Like a toy soldier,
Those who do not have life,
Who cannot even rule their own homes,
Have always been the ones that rule us,
Those who actually could make things happen,
Prefar to stay put like a monkey,
And watch in entertainment, our degraded economy,
Unwanted children fill our homes,
Hungry mouths cry for help,
Innocent bloods are still being shed,
Yet nobody seemed to care,
As long as they make their living.

Like a toy soldier,
When I look at others,
I really wished I could copy them,
Yet on a second thought,
When I take a closer look,
I found out, they were already copying me.

Like a toy soldier,
I may not have the life I desire yet,
I may even feel unhappy with myself now,
Yet I chose to add meaning to other lives,
By making my own life relevant.
 
Olumide Bisiriyu

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