Sergeant Smokepole #29248L Posted May 28, 2021 Share Posted May 28, 2021 Memorial Day is not about barbecues, drinking until you puke or acting like a fool. It is about Remembrance. It is about those brave Souls that lost their lives defending our Country and making life for us as safe as is humanly possible. I am enclosing a copy of some Cowboy Poetry that we had back in around 2007. Many of us contributed to the topic but what I am posting came from me alone. I have never had an artistic side to me and I was never good at this kind of thing. Hell... I do not even know where I got the inspiration for this. I never had it before and I have never had it since. Please take the time to read this all the way through and take it to those you love because many of us have lost loved ones to War. I have, both Family Members as well as those I served with or trained while a Marine SNCO. A Soldiers Poem By Sergeant Smokepole aka Bruce Rapa June and July are steamy times for playing cowboy games. But now I'm sitting, making rhymes, as a man with a strange name. People ask how I settled on this, my moniker so trite. I tell them that it came from an abyss handed down from a Sergeants Right. I am one as a Lawdog, true And am as a retired Marine I wear my colors proud.... Blue And keep my Honor clean Just like the hymn that means so much to every Marine since their Corps began In my heart a little touch from those before me, by their hand. So Honor is an outdated code many these days sound out. But to a Marine Honor is everything Who cares about dishonorable louts? So here I end my verse of old Like Marines have always done We, The Few, The Proud, The Bold Semper Fi until the setting sun Limbers Up! Cry the battery commanders as shells explode over head The Infantry needs our support before they are all dead. Load powder, shot and tamp the shell. Pick the charge, prime, fire and give them yanks hell. Men cry from fear as the battle rages, hoping that someday, their loved ones they will see. Nothing about this in storybook pages. Fear so bad it'll make you pee. Not for Country, Flag or money do they fight these good men of The South. But for their brothers alongside them that night They hope to make the rout. Over hill, dead bodies, trenches and shell hole they try to make a low crawl. To stop the invaders of their land Those Confederate Infantry. Piles and piles of limbs in the rear from those who have been wounded serious like discarded pieces of broken gear, those brave souls, they cry delirious Quickly, they reach their intended goal with only one thing in mind Let's take this hill, my mare's in foal, Home is a word so kind Roads of wounded, dead and scared they go for miles and miles. In hope that they would soon be spared their limbs dropped in those piles. So many die in that field of blood. And keep their honor true. The ground's soft as if after a flood, From those invaders wearing blue. The call goes out to one and all. We're out of ca'tridges, fix bayonets, prepare to charge. They stand and face the cannon ball like Men, both small and large. Until the time when all wars end this scenario will continue. Kill, die, cry for a friend As Men of Honor do. Victory is not always to the right As history has shown. As men cry and die through the night for what is for a flag flown Whiskey given to the dying Men because the ether has run out. And all of this will start again at the whim of political clout. Exactly why do I feel this way? Some read it here and ask. It's because I too fell in battle that day completing my assigned task. Yankees came and took our land and gave us not a penny. They raped and pillaged the defeated as they can And cared not any Zealots fought to the bitter end as true Patriots always do. When Gentlemen of The South Fight rabble wearing blue. Violets are blue. Roses are red. We must remain free or we're better off dead Unless I'm mistaken Zeb missed the progression. The side road by him was taken as a senior moment procession........ Some days are better than most. Your gate is slow or fast Walk a battlefield, feel for The Ghost Of Soldiers of the past. True to a Soldier's Creed No Brother left alone. They search for those who bleed and those of broken bone. Unless you have walked that path it's really hard to describe. The pain of a battle's wrath. without a diatribe. Victors write the history books and give the views they share. The losers must put on the hooks if anyone is to care. Win or lose, it's all the same for Soldiers on The Line. North or South, whatever the name of the Soldier in the pine. Xactly why do I say these words about soldiers who died in pain? The Angels all will sing their chords for those in battle slain. Yankees or Reb, it doesn't matter which flag that they fought for. They all meet as brothers and gather when they meet at Heaven's door. Zero is what each had gotten from this world under the sod. Their bodies now lie broken and rotten, But their souls are beautiful with God. After a battle, the dead they retrieve and lay them in their resting place. Their evils in life, God give's reprieve and smiles upon their face But those who die in honor's name we all hold close and dear. History may give them glory and fame but all they felt was fear Call the rolls, the missing mount never will they muster. The numbers they will all amount to piles of limbs in clusters. Dead scattered throughout the land They kept their Soldier's Code. They always lent a helping hand and shared their Brother's load. Even a foe, was given aid when asked and worthy due. Water, food and medicine were given and not paid For the butternut and blue. Friends opposed on either side this war that crushed our land. Brother in Battle, true and tried this madness should be banned. Gathered at the Hand of God These Men in battle's strife. They broke bread underneath His rod and celebrated each other's life. Helping a dying foe shows more of what's in a Man Than anything that could be bought in a store in wrappers or in can. If you think I'm making this up and that I'm a little rattled. You're right, I've shared my cup with a foe, fallen in battle. Just a word from one who's been there to those who never have. A soldier will always care for a soldier that they must save. Kill or be killed is the word that always stays with you. Fear is strongest like an attacking bird staying with you till the battle's through. Life for a Soldier is tough they say and this is no lie. Fighting for your brothers until it is your turn to die. May wars decrease until no more and no more mortars to lob idealism’s will stop at the door and Soldiers will have no job. No chance of this you say, You just may be right. I leave you with this thought today. Hug and kiss a Soldier Good Night. It could be their last. ©2008 http://t8.prnx.net/t.asp?pn=8&user=1751987313&to=-180&e=lazybobranch.homestead.com&pp=POMES%255Csoldierspoem&d=1361321538&l=131&tt=05%2F28%2F2021+07%3A30&j=0&m=0&spd=&c=24&p3=&w=1093&h=615&ck=1&r=1.25&ref=&f=0&sl=0http://lazybobranch.homestead.com/~site/Scripts_ExternalRedirect/ExternalRedirect.dll?CMD=CMDGotoURL&H_SITEID=RTK1&H_AltURL=%2F~site%2Ftp.gif&H_HSGOTOURL=http%3A%2F%2Fweb4.realtracker.com%2Fnetpoll%2Fimulti.asp&user=1751987313&pn=90006&pp=POMES%255Csoldierspoem&js=1&to=-360&userurl=http%3A//lazybobranch.homestead.com/POMES/soldierspoem.html Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Goody, SASS #26190 Posted May 28, 2021 Share Posted May 28, 2021 Sobering thoughts. Thank you Sarge. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marauder SASS #13056 Posted May 28, 2021 Share Posted May 28, 2021 Thanks! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chili Pepper Kid, SASS #60463 Posted May 28, 2021 Share Posted May 28, 2021 Amen brother. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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