VETERANS POETRY
Click on Title to Play Song
Written by John "Doc" Smith (lyrics) Music by Brian Mackey and Bipolar Bob Smith
Every
five minutes another soldier falls
Every
five minutes we hear the bugle call.
It’s
haunting sound surrounds us, as we lay to rest
The
brightest and the boldest, the bravest and the best.
Every five minutes another veteran dies
Every
five minutes another Family cries.
The
diggers never worry about their full-time job,
For
the soldiers keep their shovels full, for their country and the there God.
And
the flag it never falters, at half-staff flying free.
And
a tear is in the Eagles eye, as conflicts ever be.
The
casket's at the bier, draped in stars and stripes
For
another one has fallen for Liberty and life.
Every
five minutes one comes home to Arlington
Every
five minutes a Hero every one.
The
21-gun salute still rings within our ears,
But
that’s the only rifle fire the fallen never hear.
Every
five minutes with your amazing Grace.
Every
five minutes another sees your face.
But
we have only memories as we stand here on the lawn
And
we all miss sons and daughters who never came marching home.
Every five minutes another soldier falls.
And every five minutes we hear the bugles call.
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BRING THEM HOME
Our POWs Are Out There, In A Twilight Zone They Stay
Their Government Denies Them, The Ultimate Price They Pay
The Years Have Slowly Passed Them By, Their Memories Grow Dim
As We Sit At Home And Hum An Empty Battle Hymn
They Were Our Brothers, Our Cousins, Our Classmates And Friends
Now Our Sons and Daughters This Nation Do Defend
Again The Politicians Put Them In Harms Way
To Keep The War Machine Alive And More Dragons Left To Slay
When Will We Learn The Lesson, That Freedom Is Not Free
Why Do The Gods Not Listen And Grant Our Mournful Plea
We Lost Our Youth, Our Souls, Our Dreams Back In A Jungle Hell
But On The Fate Of Our Brothers Our Minds Will Forever Dwell
POW And MIA Are Acronyms of Shame
Fingers Point This Way And That And Try To Place The Blame
It Was An Awful Thing To Leave Them Over There, Alone Without A Prayer
But What Makes It’s Worse Is That We’re A Nation That Doesn’t Care
We Must Find Out Where They Are, Be They Corpse Or Breathing Man
We Must Exert Every Effort, Do Every Thing We Can
To Find Them And Bring Them Home So They May Rest In Peace
And The Families Of The Missing Can Finally Find Release…
ã2005 John “Doc” Smith
Maybe next year
“Tis’ the season to be jolly”
They sing throughout the room
But when I come to your home
I bring a sense of doom
Be quite kids, don’t bother him
You know that something’s wrong
You can tell I’ve been drinking
You pray I won’t stay long
Everyone is sharing holiday cheer
You know that I really have to go
It’s been going on more than thirty years
As you watch me fade into the snow
This is the night Christ was born
To wash away all our sins
But no matter how hard I try
I just can’t let Him in
Like the innkeeper on that blessed night
Such a long, long time ago
I leave Him out in the falling snow
I can’t seem to see the Light
Once Back in my rented room
A place that I do not fear
My friends will soon visit me
As I drink down my last beers
When the sleep comes so do they
Those ghosts from long ago
Drift by just like the falling snow
“Merry Christmas Brother”
They all join and sing
There’s peace on this side
Joy that only death can bring
I start awake, shaking
I know that I can’t go
My mission here isn’t quite complete
I guess that just have to wait
ANOTHER YEAR OR SO!
Christmas Poem
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.
I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.
I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.
NOT STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."
THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
I will continue to print this poem every Christmas because it says it all about why what we and our sons and daughters do to insure we have a Christmas. "Doc" Merry Christmas
