SOLDIER IN THE RAIN =BULLETS AND BARBWIRE= VIETNAM

SOLDIER IN THE RAIN =BULLETS AND BARBWIRE= VIETNAM

TOPIC

War is a hell, devised by man.

Stories about SOLDIER IN THE RAIN =BULLETS AND BARBWIRE= VIETNAM

VIETNAM WAR

  • VIETNAM

TOM ZART’S 330 POEMS

You can hear all of Tom Zart’s 330 poems of love, war, faith and more 24-7 on web radio at=

http://internetvoicesradio.com/home.htm

FREE TO DOWNLOAD

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 take time for us each day.

The last time we played baseball,
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 Tom Zart

Most Published Poet On The Web

See all 1 stories…

Additional Info
Owner:
TomZart -Contributions private
Created:
5/20/2007
Modified:
3/4/2009
View count:
16 (recently viewed: 1)