Military Poems
A collection compiled by Pat Michalski, National Auxiliary Americanism Officer


Twas the night before Payback and all through the Land,
They're running like rabbits in Afghanistan,
Osama's been praying, he's down on his knees,
He's hoping that Allah will hear all his pleas.
He thought if he killed us that we'd fall and shatter,
But all that he's done is just making us madder.

We ain't yet forgotten our Marines in Beirut,
And we'll kick your butt, with one heavy boot.
And yes, we remember the USS Cole,
And the lives of our sailors that you stole.

You think you can rule us and cause us to fear,
You'll soon get the answer if you live to hear.

And we ain't forgotten your buddy Saddam,
And he ain't forgotten the sound of our bombs.
You think that those mountains are somewhere to hide.
They'll go down in history as the place where you died.

Remember Khadhafi and his line of death?
He came very close to his final breath.
So come out and prove it, that you are a man,
Cause our soldiers are coming and they have a plan.

They're Mothers and Fathers, Daughters and Sons,
And they sure do carry some mighty big guns.

Osama I wrote this especially for you,
For air mail delivery by B-52.
You soon will be hearing a thud and a whistle,
Old Glory is coming, attached to a missile.
Will not be sorry to see you go.
It's Red, White and Blue that is running this show.

Author Unknown


What makes a nation's pillars high
And it's foundations strong?
What makes it mighty to defy
The foes that round it throng?

It is not gold. Its kingdoms grand
Go down in battle shock;
It's shafts are laid on sinking sand,
Not on abiding rock.

Is it the sword? Ask the red dust
Of empires passes away;
The blood has turned their stones to rust.
Their glory to decay.

And is it pride? Ah, that bright crown
Has seemed to nations sweet;
But God has struck its luster down
In ashes at his feet.

Not gold but only men can make
A people great and strong;
Men who for truth and honor's sake
Stand fast and suffer long.

Brave men who work while others sleep,
Who dare while others fly...
They build a nation's pillars deep
And lift them to the sky.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

-Woodrow Wilson. Poem by Ella wheeler Wilcox

America will not turn back;
she did not idly start,
but weighed carefully and well
her grave, important part.

She chose the part of Freedom's friend,
and will pursue it, to the end.
Great Liberty, who guards her gates,
will shine upon her course.

And light the long, adventurous path
with radiance from God's source.
And though blood dyes that ocean track,
America will not turn back.

She will not turn until that hour
when thunders through the world
The crash of tyrant monarchies
by Freedom's hand down-hurled.

While Labour's voice from sea to sea,
sings loud, "My country, 'tis of thee."
Then will our fair Columbia turn,
while all wars' clamours cease,

And with our banner lifted high
proclaim, "Let there be Peace,"
But till that glorious day shall dawn
she will march on, she will march on.


Oh beautiful is the land I love;
the home of the brave and free,
I praise the Lord for the light from above
that guided the pilgrims across the sea.

America, oh America,
let our voices join together on high,
And pledge allegiance to our flag,
with liberty and freedom our battle cry.

Let our hearts join together and beat as one,
as Americans united we stand,
To defend to the death our precious freedom,
from sea to sea across our great land.

Let us kneel before our Mighty God,
who led us through the night,
Let us receive His amazing grace and
thank Him for His guiding light.


The blood of men flows ever out
As raging rivers to the sea
There seems to be an endless source
From long lost memory

The young men come to volunteer
To shed their blood once more
They've heard the call to bleed again
Upon some distant shore

Why is the call to die so strong
That men will heed the call
Or do they think they're not the ones
Who'll take the final fall.

It's always someone else who dies
Not we who volunteer
We think we'll never be the one
And laugh to hide our fear

But deep within our inner souls
We know we may be wrong
That death may be around the turn
Our life may not be long

But never mind we heard the call
We line up in our ranks
And a grateful nation will be there
To give us all their thanks

They'll build for us a monument
Young boys will come to stare
And they will be the next to go
To shed their blood somewhere.


Roaring noises, Screaming voices
Metal flying there and here
Eyes are burning, Guts are churning
Men are fighting full of fear
Guns are smoking, lungs are choking
Thru it all, godawful smell
I hear crying, men are dying
I'm alive, but I'm in hell!


There are many types of weapons
But the ones that hurt the most
Are the weapons made of memories
And the deadly midnight ghost.
Not all wounds are red and bloody
There are wounds that touch the mind
These are wounds that always fester
They're the never healing kind.
Why are we who've done our duty
Plagued by wounds that never heal
Made by weapons of our memories
Which are worse than lead and steel


When the security of our land is threatened,
We call on our soldier's might,
To go wherever they're needed,
To defend us day and night.

They leave their loves ones behind,
A great price our soldiers must pay.
Let us salute their courage and bravery,
May we remember them each time we pray.

Each time we spot "Old Glory"
Waving for all to see,
Let's think of all the soldiers that have
Kept it flying proud and free.

This great country is tolerant
Of cultures from other lands,
But, when they attack our precious freedom
We will punish with a heavy hand.

Our soldiers are tried and true,
Tempered like carbon steel,
Born of American Spirit;
Raised with American will.

Remember our fallen heroes that died,
So freedom may grow,
To nations around the world,
Wherever our warriors may go.


Look God: I have never spoken to You,
But now, I want to say, "How do You do?"
You see God, they told me You did not exist;
And like a fool, I believed all of this.

Last night from a shell hole I saw Your sky;
I figured right then they had told me a lie.
Had I taken the time to see the things You made,
I would know they weren't calling a spade a spade.

I wonder, God, if You would shake my hand;
Somehow, I feel that You will understand.
Strange, I had to come to this hellish place
Before I had time to see Your face.

Well, I guess there isn't much more to say,
But I sure am glad, God, I met You today.
I guess the zero hour will soon be here,
But I am not afraid since I know You are near.

The signal - well, God, I will have to go;
I love you lots, this I want you to know.
Looks like this will be a horrible fight;
Who knows, I may come to your house tonight.

Though I wasn't friendly with you before,
I wonder, God, if you would wait at the door.
Look I am crying, me shedding tears!
I wish I had known you these many years.

Well, I will have to go now, God,
Goodbye - Strange, Since I met you,
I am not afraid to die.

Author Unknown


Some wounds of war
Are never seen
They're buried deep within

No open wound
No Purple Heart
No blemish on the skin

But these are wounds
That leave a scar
Upon our very soul

They tear our hearts
Cause misery
And take a heavy toll

Our bloodless wounds
Cause us to ask
Oh, God, what was it for

We go through life
Not knowing why
We have these Wounds of War


From the colonist, who rebelled,
to the soldier of today,
My thanks, be to you,
I know not what else to say.

Since the words I do not have,
to give the tribute that is due,
So a simple heartfelt thanks,
sincerely I give to you.

Thanks to our American heroes,
whose devotion is second to none,
Whose courage and braveness alone
caused many battles to be won.

We have beaten the forces of evil
and carried our flag far and wide,
Because of our American Warriors,
our hearts are filled with pride,

Only because of you and the price
you willingly did pay,
Only because of you,
Old Glory still flies today!

Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

It is the soldier, not the reporter
Who has given us the freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us Freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer
Who has given us the Freedom to demonstrate

It is the soldier, who serves beneath the Flag,
Who salutes the Flag,

Whose coffin is draped by the Flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the Flag,

It is the soldier, not the politician,
Who has given his blood, his body, his life,
Who has given us these FREEDOMS!


You can tell her by the twinkle in her eye,
At parades when the flag marches by.
She served our country and she served it very well
Some have even served a tour or two in Hell.

She suffered hardship and never ceased to care.
It gave us strength just to know that she was there.
She was a leader, you could tell by the rank she wore,
But she became the invisible soldier after the war.

Now, it is finally time to right a wrong.
Honor our sister soldier; hear her song.
It's very clear that she's a patriot to the core.
Don't let her be the invisible soldier anymore.

1995, Sarge Lintecum


'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown.
To admire the crumbly castles and the statues and kings
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.

So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again and their I long to be,
In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.

Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;
And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;
And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study in Rome;
But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.

I like the German fir-woods in green battalions drilled;
I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled;
But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day
In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!

I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack!
The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.
But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free -
We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.

Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea,
To the blessed Land of Room Enough, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
Henry Van Dyke


Here's to you, son
Though you're so far away -
I think of you always,
But especially today.

You're part of the millions
Who've gone on before
Millions of soldiers
In peace and in war -

Their spirits watch over
All the soldiers like you
And comfort the mothers
Of soldier-sons, too.

Some of us are gone
And some are just far -
All of us are proud
Of just who you are.

So when you feel tired
Or lonely or blue,
Remember that someone
is thinking of you....

It won't ever matter
The place or the day -
There's somebody with you
Each step of the way.


Don't envy a man his medals
All those ribbons on his chest
He did not try to get them
They're not there at his request

They were earned in stinking hell holes
Where no man would like to go
Or in cold and wintry places
Where there's only ice and snow

He did not know he earned them
Till they were awarded at parade
And they were bright when he first got them
But in time the colors fade

He was told he had to wear them
And to wear them all with pride
But when the memories come to haunt him
Those same medals make him hide

Cause those medals will not bring back
All those guys he left behind
And he would trade them all forever
For a little peace of mind

So don't envy a man his medals
You don't want to take his place
Thinking back to long gone battles
And meeting dead friends face to face


We tried, we tried, Oh God we tried
So we could be here too
And walk around remembering
And look for names we knew

Our lives were lost so far away
Upon a distant shore
But we are here in memory
As you read our names once more

Remember us, Remember us
Although we're truly gone
Remember us, as we once were
And not just names in stone.

....Edgar Guest

Lord, let me not in service lag.
Let me be worthy of our flag.
Let me remember when I'm tired,
The heroes who have died.

In freedom's name and in my way,
Teach me to be as brave as they,
In all I am, in all I do,
Unto our flag I would be true.

For God and country let me stand,
Unstained of soul, clean of hand.
Teach me to serve and guard and love,
The starry flag that flies above.