View Full Version : A poem for the Troops

03-26-2003, 09:18 AM
Remembered Heroes
Sandra Leigh Casteel-Lamb
Copyright (c)2003 Sandra Leigh Casteel-Lamb

A wounded soldier lies in wait
Praying that it's not too late
Although in pain feels honor and pride
He fights with America at his side.
He fights for America, he fights for his people
He fights for every church and steeple
He thinks of the promises he must keep
As he closes his eyes he begins to weep.
He weeps for his buddies that lie so near
A remembered friend in every tear
May they be remembered for what they've done
They fought for every mother's son.
They fought for peace they fought for life
They fought for every husband's wife
They fought with pride, they fought with honor
They fought for every father's daughter
These brave soldiers have fought and died
May they be remembered with love and pride.

It would be great if all would remember them with love and pride!
Let's keep all of our soldiers in Iraq in our thoughts and prayers!

I am proud to be an American!

03-26-2003, 09:59 AM
Thank you, a very nice poem for all.
Jackie, Perry and Miss Daisy


The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for
his country.

He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.

He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.

He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.

He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.

He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.

He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.

He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food.

He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.

He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.

Beardless or not, he is not a boy.

He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.

Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

Dakota's Mommy
03-26-2003, 11:25 AM
Those are both very touching! Thank you very much for sharing them on here. They brought tears to my eyes but I plan to share them in emails to friends and family. Thank you so much!

03-26-2003, 11:32 AM
I agree they are both wonderful poems. Thank you for sharing them with everyone.

03-26-2003, 11:40 AM

what a tribute...

03-26-2003, 06:33 PM
Thank you for these thoughts.