Writings Of Boondockers Poetic Justice Members
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Site Awards
Lighter Side Of BPJ
Lighter Side #2
Lighter Side #3
LIGHTER SIDE#4
4TH OF JULY 2003
THE KOREAN WAR REMEMBERED /July 27,1953-July27,2003 50 years

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This is a place of remembrance

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Blood Brothers
 

                              We joined together
                                    one by one,
              the 'Bad Boys', from just about everywhere.
                      A small squad of 'blood brothers'
                      ......a platoon north of prejudice,
                       .....a company formed together
                           and all ...gone to Vietnam.
                  Where 'Billy Yank and Johnny Reb',
                       stood arm and arm together,
                     day after day, and side by side
                       with the 'Bloods', of Africa
               ....the courage of the men of Puerto Rico,
                                  ..the Nisei,
                       The young men of old tribes.
                            The Indians who hold
                       the memories within this land
                             .......that somehow,
                              has blessed us all.
                                  Who?  Today!
                            .....would dare to say
                         that we were not brothers?
                        Who, among the cowards who hid
                              in closets of privelege,
           ...who shouted within the emptiness of themselves,
                                    against us,
                         could have done ...........one,
                                      ...just one,
                                      tour of duty
                              in that place we called
                                   'the Nam'.....?
 
                                   ©LouJKlaiberDec142992

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One Not To Forget

 

While only in Nam a short while

He was one all could count on and had style

He was a friend to all he met

And I miss him even yet.

 

A fine young officer and family man

Always had time to stop and lend a hand.

Arrived in Nam in sixty seven

Less than six months he was on his way to heaven.

 

Leaving behind two young daughters and a wife

Many friends and family to deal with the strife.

Not enough time for a good bye or a letter home

Never again would he be allowed with his family to roam.

 

Leading his men into a combat situation

Finding an enemy waiting in ambush from a different nation.

Directing their fight with leadership and courage

Outnumbered he didnt show his discourage.

 

Over his head death did loom

In a place called Kontum.

The twenty second of June nineteen sixty seven

A husband, father, and my friend was winging his way to heaven.

 

His name might be important to you

But to his family and me he was one of the best men we ever knew.

First Lieutenant Ervin L. Jake Burns

A true hero at ever turn.

 

So if you will help me remember him and what he did

For like so many others he received little and going home he was forbid.

Like many others for you Im sure

He left a nagging pain for which there is no cure.

© David R. Alexander

December 14, 2002

All Rights Reserved

 

 

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Another Christmas Without Him

A daughter left behind

A daughter of a friend of mine

No neglect on his part

She was a big piece of his heart.

 

A daughter of only seven years old

A daughter in need of someone to hold

Not for me as it turns out

For I couldnt find her no matter how loud I would shout.

 

My friend was KIA in Vietnam

A mixture of bullets and a bomb

A request of me before he died

And a promise to keep how I tried and tried.

 

For over thirty years of searching and wonder

When finding her she was a wonderful mother

Too old for me too comfort and to hold

But young enough of her father to be told.

 

Her dad loved her, her mom and her sister

And dont say a word against him mister.

He was my friend and good soldier too

Its just he gave his life for me and for you.

 

One fell swoop took him away

And the angels must have cried on that day.

He had a heart of pure gold

So the Lord must have needed him in his heavenly fold.

 

This is such a small tribute

And little else can I contribute

Except to say now that I have found his daughter

I will spend whatever time it takes to tell her of her father.

 

Just a verse by an unworthy hand

To let all know about this man

Lt. Ervin L. "Jake" Burns on this Christmas will have been gone for 35 years

His family, friends and me have shed 35 million tears.

©David R. Alexander
December 15, 2002

All Rights Reserved


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                    Remembrance Parade 

 

                                                  Parade, ATTEN-SHUN!

                                                 To the front, SALUTE!

 

                                               and the clicking eyeballs,

 

                                                  the snapping of air

 

                              as thousands of hands and arms moved as one

 

                                               was heard in heaven

 

                                               and the wind sighed.

 

 

                                       glistening eyes heralded the rain

 

                                                ©Anthony W. Pahl

                                                16 December 2002

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Marching By

 

Here they come momma

Here come the soldiers

Look momma look

They sure are sharp in their uniforms

 

Here they come momma

Here come the flags at the front

Look momma look

They are all stepping at the same time.

 

Here they come momma

Here come the soldiers with their rifles

Look momma look

Ive never seen so many guns in my life.

 

Here they come momma

Here come, oh wait, they are old

Look momma look

They cant be soldiers, so old and gray.

 

Here they come Johnny

They are soldiers ,son, and they are veterans

Look Johnny look

Those are the men that fought and kept us free.

 

Here they come Johnny

Those are men to be respected by you and me

Look Johnny look

See how proud they are and how much they gave for our country.

 

Here they come everyone

So proud everyone, veterans and todays soldiers alike

Look everyone look

Doesnt everyones heart now swell with gratitude and pride?

 

There they go momma

One is in a wheel chair another is being led because he is blind

Look momma look

When I grow up I will thank them for you and me.

© David Alexander

December 15,2002

All Rights Reserved


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 Standing Together

There is one thing that holds us together

Never mind the hardships and the weather,

A time when we fought and depended on each other to survive

And that is the cord that helped us stay alive.

 

Regardless if we were enlisted or officer rank

We only had each other to thank.

For the most part the world didnt give a damn

For those of us that were sent to Vietnam

 

Now that we have grown older and see with different eyes

For the most part we agree that the governments were full of lies.

We werent political, nor maybe should we have been

So we only depended on each other and each was more than a friend.

 

With each passing year I am reminded of each and every one

Some are still with us and others war is done.

With each passing year we must remember all

Because we are all getting closer to the Masters call.

 

Where you are take a minute to recall

We are all in the same boat big or small

I now render a hand salute to each with humble heart

And to each my brotherly love and gratitude I impart.

© David R. Alexander

December 16, 2002

All Rights Reserved

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                         Doug Jones                      
                     A Farewell. . . . . 
                            
 

Restless Night
 
"it's just us, sarge"     (...laughter)
"go back to bed"       (...more soft laughter)

It is never a dream....anymore.

First...it was one.
then another...
three,
now four.

A pale moon
A cold breeze
A walk at 3 AM.

Never a dream anymore.

"go back to bed sarge!"
"it's just us!"

......................................................................
.............

The crows
are calling the dawn
as they carry
the restless night,
...home once more.

'Old Soldier' things
they carry,
.....across the sky.

Voices!..
.....laughter!
...night things
upon their wings.

......................................................................
...........................

And never far behind
are moments,

riding beneath the slapping blades of an old 'steel bird',
dreaming itself
..an LZ
called home.

The day is waiting
upon the promise of sundown.

Sunset!
...and voices,
restless again,
for another night.


"Its just us, Sarge!"




©LJKlaiber 12182002

(RedCowboy) 

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               JONESIE
 
              Born 1948
            Macon ,Georgia
          1st Bn 1st Marines
            1st Marine Div
                1968
            WIA June 1968
              Died 3AM
            Dec 18 2002
            Hand Salute!
 
 
                 CAL

For A Departing Warrior

 

There are still vacant seats

waiting in the great halls of Valhalla

from which are told brave feats.

One by one these are filled now

by the valiant warriors we have known.

Gallantly they served their nation.

Their names are written there

and they are awaited in celebration

for the honor of their presence.

Goblets are filled and ready to be raised.

Let their memory be praised.

Their fanfare is our tears

and the sounds of our good byes

 

©Faye Sizemore

December 18, 2002

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The Legacy of a Veteran

 

He walked upon earth with peace and freedom in his heart
and smiled the smile of grace until from his mortal life did part.

He left behind a solemn gift for the entire the world to know;
that the seeds of freedom bloom, nurtured by those who sow.

 

He knew the agony and pain of war, in his body, mind and soul
and steadfastly resolved that love and honour must be told.

As his body succumbed to the need to pass from mortal life,
a candle flickered softly, and exposed his gift of love to light.

 

©Anthony W. Pahl

19 December 2002

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Drifting

 

For more years than I care to remember

My memories have kept me company January through December.

For those that came home but didnt survive

Those that lived but were not alive.

 

Many coasted through day by day

Never letting anyone get in their way.

Not letting anyone in

They would never get that close to anyone again.

 

Seeing death with its finality

Feeling loss because of familiarity

Brothers dropping like drops of rain

No more, no more never again.

 

Their lives were never the same as before

Because of death, carnage and gore.

Shutting out the world around them was an escape

Letting memories their lives shape.

 

When finally leaving this world

Only brothers understood why their lives were so furled.

So in passing we stand and stare

Only another warrior could understand or maybe even care.

 

As one brother passes to heaven above

Remember him with understanding and love

For on this earth he never understood

We were always there if he had let us in if only he could.

 

Drifting from memory to benediction

This was his only conviction.

Say a prayer for this lonesome soul

That now he will find peace and once again be made whole.

©David R. Alexander
December 19, 2002

All Rights Reserved

 


Will Anyone Remember?

 

In say fifty years or so

When you and I are either dead or very old

Will anyone remember the war in which we fought?

Or will anyone care about the freedom we sought?

 

Will wars of future years our memories obscure?

Will the youth and soldiers of that time hearts be pure?

Maybe their wars will be different from ours

Will they still fight for the stripes and stars?

 

Will the government still be the same?

Fighting wars and its always someone else to blame.

Will our Grandchildren and theirs still be going off to be killed?

Or will the earth be a place of happiness and with love be filled?

 

Something for which to ponder

As you and I cross over yonder.

Will anyone still remember you and I and our fight?

I dont suppose it really matters after we say our last good night.

 

©David R. Alexander

December 19, 2002

All Rights Reserved

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The Brave         {for all my brothers}

 
I have never known
such fear
as that night
long ago,
stumbling,
trembling,
hearing
rumblings of war
far away.

My mouth so dry
..and wanting to cry.

Closing the distance into war,
and so afraid.


The Moon shone down upon us
shadows,
moving out,
...and the brave were ahead of me
moving silently
into the night.

It was then I knew
that war is common
brotherhood.

Common courage
from common men.

I was part of them.
I was all of them
...and would have died for them.



©LJKlaiber December2002 
  

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My Worst Nightmare
 
In the summer of 1967 in a place called Vietnam
My worse memory happened and shapes some of what I am.
This is the first time I have put on paper the story of that night,
Because of the tragedy and the horrible loss of life.
 
About this time of year I seem to remember so much more,
The brothers in this battle and those later and before.
As I start to tell this story that happens to be true
For those of you that read it, it will mean something to.
 
After being in the boonies for neigh onto two weeks,
Food and water dropped in and with very little sleep.
I as acting Company Commander was glad to get the news
Move into the Artillery compound, for rest, food and snooze.
 
We arrived around noon on that faithful day
Took over for another company that had a three-day stay.
All were so tired and grateful for the rest
Took over the perimeter and settled in for sleep and food at best.
 
The little compound had all the comforts that one could expect
Food, showers but sleep was our main object.
When dawn began to fall late in the day
Guard duty assigned and everyone grateful for a short stay.
 
Off in the distance a strange and eerie sound
Horns no trumpets blasting as if to surround.
Strange and distant as they were
A feeling of uncertainty and fear was what they inferred.
 
Made a call to Battalion to inquire as to the cause
No information on the meaning and that gave us pause.
The sounds got louder and seemed to be on the move
Called to ask for Chopper support our state of mind to improve.
 
Rain and fog had moved in and the choppers were grounded
And they assured us that our fears were unfounded.
For hours the blast became closer and louder
Our nerves were on edge, but each man I couldnt have been prouder.
 
About midnight with the rain pounding down
The blasting of the horns stopped and a mortar round hit the ground.
All of a sudden the perimeter lit up as the flares were tripped.
Gunfire, grenades and screams through the night did rip.
 
The artillery searchlight on the hill lit the area all around
What seemed like thousands of enemy crawling on the ground
We opened up with fire and all that we had,
Too close for the Artillery that made it bad.
 
Told the RTO to call for help as the enemy strength had been shown
Due to the weather, hold what youve got tonight you are on your own.
Shortly after that the light was shot out
Then the enemy began with deafening sound began to shout.
 
Fighting sometimes hand to hand
My men and brothers made a heroic stand.
We kept closing the perimeter and in size it did shrink
Screams in the night, what an awful sound, but not one brother did blink.
 
Almost six hours later the enemy broke contact and the rain began to subside
Those of us left were in one trench when the sun rose on those that had died.
The choppers came, but too late for over a half of our men were lying dead
Oh, we held the ground and fought the good fight but the earth was blood red.
 
I suppose no one was at fault or so they said,
But for those that lost their lives they are still just as dead.
The Artillery site didnt even have a name, nothing for us to recall,
The next week I heard they moved the site, the one where so many gave theyre all.
 
Those of us left simply call it No Name Hill
You wont find a written story about this still
As we were left there to defend on our own
But those that died there were some of the bravest men I have ever known.
©David R. Alexander
December 21, 2002
All Rights Reserved

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  Christmas 2002
                   Wrapping paper and silver bells
                  Christmas trees and baking smells
                Twinkling stars and softly falling snow
                 The store windows lighted and aglow
                Gazing in them a child I was of wonder
                Dreaming of coming Christmas plunder
        Years passing, I have grown wiser now ,and it seems
           There is no wonder in the store windows gleams
             Brighter now from afar I watch for His Star
             I have seen the beauty in the Manger Scene
               Wiser now ,I do know what Christmas means
                 The warm glow of my families` smiles
           Knowing I have made beloved friends across the miles
                  ....Wrapping paper and silver bells
                 ....Christmas trees and baking smells
                         and God sending from above
                    ................His greatest gift of love
 
                      ©Faye Sizemore  December2002

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Happy Birthday Jesus

 

Walking along the path

A stone walk flanked by a concrete birdbath

To a garden of flowers and streams

It suddenly came to me that God is what it means.

 

Hearing about many exploits and deeds of valor and lore

Many in their graves to breath no more.

Those still living a life of self-doubt and pity for themselves

Seems like the hero is as elusive as an elf.

 

But there is one that gave his all and all he could be

He gave his life on this earth just for you and me.

Hero or savior all is one in the same for him

Giving his life was planned and not on a whim.

 

Jesus came to earth as a man

Not to judge mankind but to give a saving hand.

So when searching for a hero ore the earthen sod

Look up to heaven and give your thanks to God.

 

Christmas is Jesus birthday as I have been told

Now he is with our heavenly Father sitting on a throne of gold.

More than a hero, more than a saint, much more by a lot.

Happy Birthday Jesus from one man for a hero I am not.

© David Alexander

December 21, 2002

All Rights Reserved


Spirit 
 
The spirit of all veterans
Is not measured by something seen.
But the spirit of veterans
Is something that has lingered as memories become pristine.
 
An old soldier may become stiff and sore
But the spirit of a veteran never wanes
As age may make him unable to fight anymore
But the wiliness and know how still runs through his veins.
 
While watching a parade and the flag comes slowly by
He will be the first and sometimes the only one to stand and salute
His spirit will assure us all that the flay will always fly.
A veteran may become too old to fight but never too old to shoot.
 
When the country faces an enemy here or on a distant land
Never have a doubt that the veterans spirit will never let you down.
His spirit will be with each soldier in the jungle, or in the foreign sand.
I wager each of you know one, at least one from your hometown.
 
The spirit of an ole soldier now known as a civic pride
Will always be present and support his country at every turn.
He will be there for you and never will you see him run and hide.
So young soldiers listen well to his stories and well you may learn.
 
Because the spirit of all soldiers young and old is what keeps us free
It is better to stand tall and fight when you must than hide your pride
Then you become no better than a coward and for your own life plea
Listen to those with this spirit because many of their brothers, for you and me have died.
 
© David Alexander
December 23, 2002
All Rights Reserved
 
 

Fire Dreams

When there were no
silent nights,

there were no
holy nights....at all!

...but that was so very damn long
ago.

Why?
........do I remember them now,
as I grow so very old,

and tired of all the war
things
deep within,
lingering from another time.

War,
and memory,
remaining like an old dog
sleeping
by my side.

I see them in the nightfire...,
as embers,  ...........glowing by my side.

Embers of a war
that cannot go away.

A war,
burning within the moments of today.

War!

....burning.



© LJKlaiberDecember242002


 Many Trees Talking 
By the river
when it is cold
and the Sun dances
upon the water
so brightly sparkling
into my eyes.....,

.....nothing
is warmer
than late into the night
when the bright Moon walks
the river of wintertime,
alone,
.....when memory
sits beside me like a shadow,
and many trees are talking,
...as the horned owl calls
...the names.

Our youth was in a hurry
then.
So brave!
..so damn, laughing,
brave.

I build a fire to warm my hands,
my heart,
my old
cold
feet.

I am never alone anymore.
Voices
whisper in the glow
of embers,
as the fire fades to silence,
and the Moon remains a lantern
within the tall trees
talking
as I walk toward home.

The Owl remains,
so softly calling,
...the names
from long ago.





©LJKlaiber 12 27 02

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