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Who is He?

He that would risk his life
For his dear wife and young children

Is he a Sailor?
A man who would risk dieing at sea

Whom? In his right mind would give up all
That precious time?

Who is he a Soldier?
A man that would dig a trench and lay in it day after day

He stands face to face
With the would be, aggressors

Is he even a man now a days?
Could it be, that he, is actually someones

Daughter, wife or even their sweet mother?
Who are these endearing few
 
These proud young men and brave, oh so brave women?
So brave and willing to fight, to protect their Nation

With all they possess
Every life they protect, sits back at home

These Husbands and dear Wives
Who are they?
 
These Few and oh so Proud, these who are Brave
Marines they are; they can't be swayed

By air, land, and or sea
They work directly for our President

Their Commander and Chief
He who, has even greater respect
 
For them, when his hands be tied and
His back is up against the wall

It is him
 That sends them
 Into battle for to die
 To be wounded
 To be remembered
and

Dear Ones
Eventually Honored

Who are these new watch standers
Great protectors of our
Air spaces? 

Who fly at such great heights,
Even to the edge of the atmosphere
Air Force men and women

Who are they, when they are gone?
Are they forgotten?

Not by them, that know them
That you can bet your life on

For they did theirs
It would only be fair
 
That there bet but, that is who they are
They are Americans through and through

Let the bells ring let freedom sing
Let us all take our hats off to you few

At least that, you all deserve
This and so much more
 
I, would say but, who am I 
I am an American Veteran

That's me

But, who is he?

 

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man

— Sinbadthesailorman, Dec 18, 2007

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: U.S. A. Indiana, Valparaiso, USA

Favorite Poets: Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Carl Sandburg these I have read some And so Many More. I have no Favorite or any that I dislike. Whom I consider to be poets; of course there are many Dark and hateful souls, who would cry out and to I will lend an ear, but some. They just leave a awful taste in my heart that I can not bear to read twice. Let alone as many times I would do normally; as I must.

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