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~ Poems Of Rememberance ~



"These poems have been taken from various books in the public domain and I
am crediting all those authors who are named."



As I did every night, I laid down
in the confining, restrictive dark.

I would nod off; but very soon
I would jerk awake.
It was back again. The feeling of death
moving toward me and getting closer and closer.

As I sat up in my mind I screamed
at it "BACK OFF!"; and it did.
And a feeling of relief would return.

I knew who this figure was.
It was my guilt of vietnam.
HELL, what did I do to deserve this!

Brian Webster (19/2/98)


It's so easy to forget and say I don't give a damn
Let's not remember "That War" called Vietnam
But those who remember are those who were there
They fought and died in the hope that we'd care
They fought for their country; they fought for their pride
It's a pity more people don't know why they died
For the one's who returned it's just never the same
For the scars war inflicts will always remain
All wars spell destruction,heartache and tears
Vietnam the "Modern" war confirmed all our fears
Let's remember the Anzacs, but lets remember them all
Just remember where we'd be if they hadn't answered the call

Rest in Peace Peter


I have found
that I am still what
I was
The myth of war
has not eradicated
my weaknesses
but it has
shown me
the cloven eyed sport of men
I am against the strength of war
and that has made
me stronger
My name
has not changed.



The old man's painfilled eyes
stare at the earth
He stands, motionless yet moving
No tears fall. Only a slight
Paleness mars the granite face
In the mound of earth
He too is buried
Beyond the reach of time.



A Sunday afternoon
pickup game
Just ten guys
taking a break from the war

Nobody seemed to mind
the crooked, homemade hoop,
the thick dust
or the volleyball

Overtime! A tied game
and in the excitement
of trying for another bucket
killing was forgotten

But before we could
finish the game
a lone mortar round
wiped out half the players

The final score
for the day:
The VC - 5
The U.S.- 0



School children walk by
Some stare
Some keep on walking
Some adults stare too
With handkerchiefs
Over their nose
A woman
Sits on the pavement
And pounds her fists
On pavement
Flies all over
Its like made of wax
No jaw
Intestines poured
Out of the stomach
The penis in the air
Well it wont matter to me now
I dont want in death to be
A public obscenity like this



God, man is at it with the sword again
Nation has gone after nation
The land and the soil erodes away
Still, barren and lifeless
...... like the many sons who left it

Death has been at my hands Lord
I have killed;
Death has been at my hands Lord,
Who is fulfilled?
...... only twisted minds.


In Memory Of "Coach"

The last thing I remember was her lights,
As Scarlet three departed late that night
Everybody prayed, when the radar lost her track
But then we realized she was never coming back
You lived your life...high above it all
Somehow Joe, I thought you'd never fall

I only wished today,. that I could have said goodbye
But you've earned your wings, and I know your flying high
You know that if I could, I'd die for you
And spend the days in hell that you went through
I see you still today, flying high above the crowd Joe,
I hope you know you've made me proud
I'm glad we talked, but I guess I'll let you go
But before I do there's something you should know
So many years have passed, So many times I'd try
Your still here with me, So I still can't say good-bye

By: Bud Harris"Nomad"


Were you wounded in Vietnam
Are they wounds no one can see?
Are they wounds that keep you wake at nights?
With an ache you cannot flee?

Do you hide in your apartment?
Do you move from job to job?
Do you sleep alone at nights now?
So no one can hear you sob?

Do you expect an ambush?
In city street or park?
Do you stay away from street lights?
And shelter in the dark

When they tell you the war is over
Do you smile and just stay quiet?
or try to tell them the horrors
That come to you each night?

Maybe someday they'll realize
It's there wherever you roam
For them the war is over
But some of us never came home.


This is for the nurses of Vietnam

always a smile to encourage
never sour or glum
I don't know what her name was
we just called her mum

somewhere between thirty and forty
how ancient that seemed then
for we were all of twenty
boys, just dressed as men

she was a nursing corps sister
caring for wounded young boys
but her light jokes in the morning
made her one of our joys

how could she get a bloke laughing
when he knew of the pain yet to come
I don't know, but that was the magic
of the angel we called mum

where is she now I wonder
still caring perhaps for all ranks
I hope someday she'll read this
to know her boys say "THANKS"


To laugh at a joke and shrug off a curse
Are two of the qualities required of a nurse
The joke may be dirty, the curse may be bitter
But the nurse must go on and not be a quitter
She must be strong when the blood starts pouring
She must be patient when the patients are boring
When the child is spoilt she must be hard,
Softening unheard of, sympathy barred
But when the child comes in, crying and sick,
She uses her soothing voice and not a big stick
She is one in a milion, she works hard and shes brave
So give her the courage to continue to save

Anonomous, signed 'B' and handed to Sister Leslie McGurgan
on 17th April 1969.



(an underground man)

The leading scout raised his arm in the village of Long Phuoc
He'd found another tunnel, but who'd go down to look?
The corporal passed the word back, it went back far behind
To let his platoon commander know of his recent find

Then along came this soldier, with mud from head to toe.
"Wheres the tunnel entrance?" was all he wanted to know.
When they showed the solider, he quickly looked around
And before you could stop him, he'd gone under ground

Now he'd been seaching on his gut, all that day i bet
Look out for booby traps that good o' Charlie sets
Then he found the wire stretched out taut and thing
But he deloused that booby trap, with a safety pin

Then he found the weapons leaning on the wall,
There was no disputing he'd found a real big haul.
When he finally surfaced, wearing a big grin
He proudly showed the Diggers what he'd found withing

Now he'd like to sit down, and roll himself a smoke.
But he's been called up forward, by another bloke.
So when you see that hat badge, that's like a bursting shell.
Remember that this fellow has crawled half way through hell

And if he's in a bar mate, you buy that bloke a beer.
Because, Sir, your drinking with an Aussie Engineer



Each man has his duty
Yes, each man has his job
And each one takes the chance
That he will stand before his God
But ask of any soldier
What he thinks of the scout
The one that leads the others
The lonely forward scout.

He's the first one into danger
The first to face the shots
He sees and hears what other miss
And reads right on the spot
For none may walk beside him
While he's up front, the scout
He's known as both the eyes and ears
The lonely forward scout

But man is man and life goes round
And returns to form a ring
The whispering of the leaves may mean
That death is on the wing
The rifles boom, the rockets crash
Many lives hand deep in doubt
His chest now but a crimson cloak
The lonely forward scout

And now there lies in our sunburnt land
Deep down beneath the earth
A boy who died a soldiers death
For all this it was worth
We were hit from every side it seemed
Just able to get out
But there up front, alone, he died
The lonely forward scout.

S.A Evans WIA 19 July 1969
Eulogy for Ray Kermode KIA
Long Kahn Province, 19th July 1969



Copyright © Peter Gillett, 1997, Downwind WWW Publishers.

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