(photo: This is a photo of me at the age of 11 in a National Guard uniform my brother bought for me. He was serving in the Guard and bought this as a gift from the PX at the Fort, the gun is a toy.)
Warriors Die for Them to Forget
©June 14th 2021, Olan L. Smith
The warrior's toast is read aloud upon the day of his demise,
A resurrection of stories told, of bullets ducked, and survived.
In the heart he will surmise and cart the riddled bodies,
He stands against the wind and shouts, "I am the force you
Don't want to number." Like all, his name is inscribed
It waits for him in the hallows of hell, a welcome
For all who draw the sword and spill blood for
Homeland's honor, to protect ways in the depths of why.
The soldier defends a line fatigued, here and now
His enemy wanders...his blood for invaders from foreign
Lands; ideas tarnish in the wind, engulfing hopes of haven.
He came and found his named engraved. Bodies slope to
The sun, for a retreat that never comes from old rulers
And ideas forgotten; all that remains are bones, and armor
For future generations to ponder, what glory was lost and whose
Glory retained. Old men create wars, boys die to be forgotten.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
