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THIS IS A PLACE OF REMEMBRANCE
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
CALL TO ARMS
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
2-7-03
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
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
Yardstick
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.
DONG!!!
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.
DONG!!!
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.
DONG!!!
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.
DONG!!!
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.
DONG!!!
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.
DONG!!!
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 |
