Writings Of Boondockers Poetic Justice Members
Page 7
page 2
Page 3
page 4
Page 5
page 6
Page 14
Page 23
Page 24
Page 28
Page 40
Site Awards
Lighter Side Of BPJ
Lighter Side #2
Lighter Side #3
4TH OF JULY 2003
THE KOREAN WAR REMEMBERED /July 27,1953-July27,2003 50 years




My Dream

                                              On a muddy LZ in Vietnam, about the20thofJune

Waiting for the choppers for me and my platoon.

Across the LZ I spot a friend of mine Lt. Jake.

We meet half way across the field for a last minute handshake.


Jake reminds me that we will meet back in the world

Says he might even introduce me to a nice girl.

With a halfhearted grin, asks that if he dies to check on his family for him.

With a slap on the back and a I`ll see you, don`t be so grim.


But ,don`t worry ,Jake, you know I`ll do what you ask.

No one could do any less and such a small task.

Little did I know how wrong I was

As this poem unfolds you will see the cause.


It`s been a very long day and after making sure the perimeter was secure

I take my turn on watch until about midnight, I`m not sure.

Lying back on my ruck sack for my head

I`m asleep as if in my very own bed.


In the living room are my parents, bother, sister and grandmother,

Watching television and enjoying the evening like any other.

I can`t understand why they can`t see me,

Funny I`m right here in the corner of the room, can`t they see?


Dad has his arm around mom what does he envision?

Brother and sister are silent as they watch the television.

Grandmother is asleep in her recliner, at peace, as she should be.

I still can`t understand why they can`t see me.


I move around and speak to my dad but not a sign of his hearing.

Through the door I can see a wooden triangle in the kitchen table center clearing.

What is that? I can walk into the kitchen and find that the triangle encases a flag.

In one corner of the triangle is a picture of me attached as if a tag.


What does this mean? I`m not dead, I must be dreaming.

A knock at the door and on the other side stand two Army officers buttons gleaming.

They are talking to dad and have a piece of paper of gild.

Dad turns to tell mom, "Jake has been killed"


What? Why did they come to tell my parents of someone they barely know?

Dad and mom met him only twice and that was over a year ago.

They aren`t family to Jake, no relation at all, and Jakes family they are robbing.

Dad has tears running down his face and mom is sobbing,


I don`t understand this, Jake can`t be dead, I just saw him two days ago.

What am I doing here? I`m supposed to be in Nam, I must go.

Then I notice I have on jungle fatigues, muddy boots and my M-16 in my hand.

I seem to be floating in the air, not touching the ground, I just don`t understand.


A firm grasp of my shoulder, a gentle shake and I`m awake

It`s Pvt. Barnes waking me just before dawn and no noise did he make.

We must move out before the sun comes up

I have a drink of water from my cup.


We move on and soon the dream is out of mind

But again that night the same one is back to remind.

Night after night for about a week or so

The same dream, the same ending, why I do not know.


Then on about the six or seven day later I got word

We met a platoon from the 173rd

I wanting to know everything I could find out

I ask their platoon leader if he knew of Lt. Burnes, and his whereabouts.


His answer came with a stab to my heart

He said he really didn`t know where to start.

Jake and his men were ambushed and he had been killed.

A brother and a friend lay dead and a family he had just started to build.


This dream comes back to me still today

I never understood the meaning or why it started that way.

But I know that Jake was a friend and brother until the end

And no one can ask for anything better than to have a friend.

©David R. Alexander
February 5, 2002

All Rights Reserved


Which Path?


A young boy walks along the earthen path

While investigating the mysteries of childhood.

When coming upon a fork in the trail

Which path should he take?


His father has taken him down this path before

But always they have taken the trail to the left.

But now his curiosity has overcome him

And he takes the trail to the right.


What wonders are there he has never seen before

Before long he has explored the wonders but is lost.

Not knowing where he is he begins to cry

Why did I not follow the path I knew?


His father finds him there sobbing beside a tree

He explains that exploration is not bad

Only know where you are going and where you have been

Wiping away the tears they retreat to the safety of home.


A young man walks along lifes path

Soaking the knowledge and wonders of the world.

When he comes to a decision that has to be made

What decision should he make?


His father cannot take him down this path

Even though he has traveled it himself

Before his dad has advised him on the right path to take

This time he must make the decision himself.


What interesting things he now sees

What wonders and new experiences he feels

But before long he is lost in the things that matter not

His father isnt there to pick him up and lead him back.


This time he must depend on the lessons learned

His decision is wise and seeks the knowledge of those older

And soon he is back on the right path

He retreats back to the safety of the known.


An old man wonders along a path

Reflecting upon the things he has seen and learned

Decisions he has few left

He continues to slowly travel toward the end of his path.


His father made this same journey many years ago

And the old man realizes that this is his journey and his alone.

Soon he comes to the end of his path

And there is God to welcome him home.


©  David Alexander

February 6, 2002

All Rights Reserved



Eternal soldier, arise,
Harken to the battle cries.
Years ago, dead and gone,
seems rest has not been long.
Come now and stand, hear the cry,
'Today again, your brothers may die '

'I answer, I come, brothers mine,
Returning through the mists,
from an endless journey in time
Part of me, timeless, still exists,
this ever faithful soul of mine

©Faye Sizemore
February 06, 2003

Filed Under Regrets

In the Temple of my mind
Are those left behind

Why did I not savor each and every day
I thought it was always to be that way

Now some precious ones are gone
and without them I feel so alone

They march in memory`s purple haze
seeking a file in this mind`s maze

Fleeting... the faces come
bringing rememberance, each one

Wishing I had spent more time
If so,this could be a happier rhyme

Instead of memories filled with regret
that are filed under 'Never Forget'

©2/6/03 Faye Sizemore



                 To the Young Warriors

           With clear heads and clean rifles
              Go the steadfast and strong
                    Let history worry
               The righteous or wrong

              Own resolve and have focus
                   Keep your spirits alive
                  To find the road home
                 Means to win and survive!

              Keep your eyes on the objective
                   Your head in the game
                   Know that your enemy
                 Is doing exactly the same

               Take with you the knowledge
                  That prayer looms large
                 Make note of your orders
                 But listen closely to Sarge!

           Go with heads down and chins up
                When you're given the nod
         With the best wishes of your nation
                        Please go with God!

                        ©Randy Richmond


Future Assured
... because
as we have passed to the hands of our children,
the legacy of our fight to retain freedom,
so must we grant them the gift
that enables them to hand that legacy
to their children.
That gift is only in our passing.
.... so we shall sit together,
and with friends of yore,
on a lawn of clouds in heaven...
and watch them.
And on their cheeks
and in their hearts,
they shall feel the raindrops
that are the tears of our pride.
©Anthony W. Pahl
08 February 2003


The Fourth Season
What joy doth winter bring?
The wondrous joy at the memory of the eternal spring...
The contrasting memories of the passionate heat of summer...
The solemn serenity of the witness of our colourful fall
.... this is the joy that winter brings.
Smile, and shout...
"I have lived!"
©Anthony W. Pahl
February 08, 2003




An Act of Kindness

                                                  Along a dense jungle trail

Watching for the enemy, moving slow as a snail

Careful not to make a sound

When I caught a movement on the ground.



Slowly moving ahead one false move and we might be dead,

Creeping along nerves on edge and move, stop, listen to what is ahead.

Within twenty-five feet of the movement seen

The jungle is wet and very green.


When at once we recognized a dreadful moan

Careful, the enemy is tricky this was well known.

Another moan and a slight movement is seen

And there she is a Vietnamese teen.


A pretty girl scared to death

She would have run had she not been injured and out of breath

Crying because of her fear, not her pain

Set a perimeter to assure our security, so our help would not be in vain.


The medic checks the frightened girl as she begins to beg.

As he discovers several cuts and a broken leg.

Our interpreter assures her as the medic sets the limb

Splints the leg and bandages her cuts as the light grows dim.


Through our interpreter she begins to explain

How the VC came into her village looking for grain.

When the village had been robbed and burned

Upon the women they suddenly turned.


She and her sister ran to escape

Knowing that to be caught the best would be rape.

They both knew the countryside well

But in their haste she had tripped and fell.


She sent her younger sister on and told her not to wait

Neither of them knowing but being caught they knew their fate.

We fashioned a litter of sorts

Taking the girl with us for her leg her weight would not support.


Not long until we were at her relatives village by a stream.

There we left her but not until she thanked us with a smile that seemed to gleam.

Just a short story of someone we met

But surly one we will never forget.


Sometimes a simple thing can make an impression

Acts of kindness can oft be a loving expression

Just another day that one would say nothing occurred

But who knows, we might have made a difference and that we would have preferred.

©David R. Alexander

February 8, 2003

All Rights Reserved


Warrior Once...Homeless Now

Just an old soldier
running from an old war
Racing until I can run no more
Racing toward a unknown chore
.............Passing time
Passing time... until I am no more
I surface to the sun
The race is lost and nearly done
faint and devoid of fight
living in the dust of twilight
.............Passing time
Passing time...until I am no more
Living unseen in the shadows
forsaking hope of tomorrows
A coming of age has found all matters naught
just existing today in the snares of others caught
.................Passing time
Passing time ...until I am no more
©Faye Sizemore February92003


No One But Me


Across the fields of grain

Face wet with a springtime rain

Who lives there? No one but me.


Mother and Father working in the fields

The wonderful aroma of one of moms home cooked meals

Who lives there? No one but me.


Crawling through the mud and rain

Army training, but not in vain

Who lives there? No one but me.


Flying across the ocean wide

Wondering if there will be a place to hide

Who lives there? No one but me


Behind a fallen tree bullets all around

Wishing there was a larger hole in the ground

Who lives there? No one but me


Men asking what shall we do?

Knowing some will be dead when this is through

Who lives there? No one but me


What was thought to be a brave front

Giving commands sometimes it would be nice to be a grunt.

Who lives there? No one but me.


Watching young men hurt and dieing

If this doesnt bother me Id be lying

Who lives there? No one but me.


Going home on a jet plane

Mind being held as if by a chain

Who lives there? No one but me.


Lying in bed pretending to be asleep

The horrors and misery into my mind do leap

Who lives there? No one but me.


A tortured mind and restless sleep

Faces of those lost in a jungle so deep

Who lives there? No one but me.


Fighting each day to remember not

A losing battle that cannot be forgot

Who lives there? No one but me.


Sharing memories with those who live the same

Trying to understand no one is to blame

Who lives there? They all do with me.


©David R. Alexander

February 11, 2003

All Rights Reserved


    If Not Peace
All night I prayed for peace
until the amber dawn
shown on my face
Lord, if it is not to be,
then I pray...
send us swift victory!
The etheral mists of morn
float among the barren trees
The cardinals red flashes
Are seen among these
Lord,still I pray,
If not peace...victory! 
Even though full in the sun
fears of the night have not run
What will be brought this day
No one but the Almighty can say
Lord,Lord,still I beg of Thee,
send us peace...or swift victory!
©Faye Sizemore 2/10/03                                             

Hark,it is again, the Eleventh hour
Do you know where your Children are

Could they be on a ship headed for a foreign land
If you could call them back ,wouldn`t it be grand
Are they flying through the skies in a fighter plane,
Going on their way to fight for freedom again

This generation has been good at breeding war
and,now, on our Children falls the chore
I saw our Sons as they were trudging through the sands
carrying our hopes along with rifles in their hands

Hark,it is again, the Eleventh hour
Do you know where your Children are
©Faye Sizemore 2/11/03


Hesitant Warrior
Trembling has crept in to my bones
My young ones I need at home,
not placed in a flag draped box
please, no more names on a Wall
Who will answer Freedoms Call
My young ones are bound to go
because others have decreed it so
The peace that we all seek
cannot be procured by the meek
Pray, do enlist this old hand,
who can do no more but
wave the flag of our land
This old head does think twice
for others must make the sacrifice
Would that I could ,take up the chase
instead of sending others in my place...
I think tis`so easy to be brave,
when it is on others, war will rave
©Faye Sizemore 2/12/03



A Medal for Mothers

Giving birth to a child

During the pain only a faint smile

No medal for mothers


Caring for and nurturing this life

All the while working and being a good wife

No medal for mothers


Shedding a tear at his first day at school

Seems like this is the first of many such days thats the rule

No medal for mothers


Going into the military while she tries to be strong

Knowing he will never be the same, she hums a lonely song

No medal for mothers


She cries as he travels across the ocean so wide

To fight an enemy, for family and pride

No medal for mothers


Receiving a letter from a government so sterile

She knew when he left he would be in peril

No medal for mothers


Now just a memory and a name on a wall

Nothing more for her to hold, no one to call

No medal for mothers


He looks down as she holds her head high

Knowing her heart is breaking, asking why did he have to die

No medal for mothers


Praying to God that never again

Another mother would be suffer this pain within

No medal for mothers


She sees other mothers sons now going off to war

Knowing all to well what for them is in store

No medal for mothers


Finally passing on to the other side

Once again holding her son with great pride

She once again holds the only medal meant for all mothers

©David R. Alexander
February 12, 2003

All Rights Reserved

                  A measure of the worth of a man
              is not inscribed by ownership of land
                or the amount of riches in his hand
              It`s measured by the love in his soul
             and how he does treat his fellow man
            Far above treasures is the tender heart
              held by one not afraid to do his part
              and aid in the steps of a lesser one
             for in doing so,thus, his fame is won

                       ©Faye Sizemore 2/16/03


Lifes Clock 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Steadily forward the hands move

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Nothing to lose nothing to prove. 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Moving forward to the time of manhood

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Cant go back, wouldnt if we could. 


Called to service of the country we love

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Hard as a rock, but gentle as a dove 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Seeing death and carnage all around

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Still thankful of the friends and brothers we have found. 


One by one some seem to fade away

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Each death a thousand pounds each seem to weigh. 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Now trying not to make new friends

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Seen too many friends meet their ends. 


Then comes the cruelest cut of all

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

News of one of your dearest friends has answered his call. 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Knowing you could be next to get a fatal wound

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

No time to worry, you must stay in tune. 


Then your tour is over and home you go

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Withdrawn and miserable and try not to let it show. 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Growing older, isnt a hard quest

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Keeping your sanity, thats the test. 


With each passing day another brother dies

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

With each one your heart cries. 

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Trying not to let your hurt show

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

Trying not to let anyone know. 


My time has come and the sun is going down

Tic Tock, Tic Tock, Tic Tock,

No more will I be there for life to kick around. 


©David R. Alexander

February 18, 2003

All Rights Reserved


Enter supporting content here