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Winners and Losers...

“I never looked at their faces
The ones I killed weren't men”
Said the man of just were traces
As he remembered yet again

He sat huddled in his memories
Of boys were left behind
“I fired through the fir trees”
And he saw it in his mind

He murmured low, some names
The ones that lost their lives
Politicians and their games
They did not see Death arrive

They didn't see the mother
Of the boys that slept in dirt
It was always just another
The ones that died, got hurt

He sat straighter as he said;”Sir, yes sir!”
I thought; He's gone away
He sat silent for a moment
On that dreary, Veteran's Day

Tears rolled down his cheek
As he struggled with his pain
His mouth moved, as if to speak
And he went away again

Johnny Smith and “Tiny” Anderson
Walter Green, he whispered
They died taking on a German gun
Died valiantly, I heard

We left them in the mountain's snow
Frozen to the core
“I came home, don't you know?”
We won't see them no more

His eyes glistened, and he drew a breath
Shuddered once or twice
“I've looked into the eyes of Death
And they're cold as ice”

“I came home and I am glad
Thought I'd never make it back”
Took all the strength I had
Getting back to this old shack

He closed his eyes and took a drink
I guess the memories too much
I just sat and had a think
While he was out of touch...

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
In honor of the veterans that did and didn't come home from any war. This is a composite of a couple of vets that I have met.
Editing stage: 


I knew gunners and navigators pilots
and grunts
medics from dust offs
and a few who worked with no markings
on missions that did not exist

a different breed of men
moving into their role and leaving

know of a friend of a friend
who is somewhere in the world
a leader of men
he almost didnt get to be here
and is still somewhere in
the world
believing in the cause
a father a son
a friend of a friend

easy to put down wars
and personally attack those
that pick up the flag and
risk everything
if those with nasty words
have never lost a friend
or survived basic
picked up the lead to be
anything other then
coporal but more
because they can
and are good at it

then they are cowards

these men were not
cowards...not the ones
I met
but true heros
people that believed
came home raised families
although they were haunted
maybe were violent too their
wives and kin but they kept
busy..kept working too the
end...they knew they were
not perfect....they did not
speak of being a Red Devil
or secret soldier into Laos

excellent poem geezer
thank u!

I'd see this get anymore comments. I guess that you might have been bored enough to go sifting through some of the back log here at Neo. Thanks for the kind words. I was trying to capture the spirit of an old soldier that I met. I sat with him when I infrequently passed by and saw him sitting out in his yard. He passed away just about a week after I wrote this. I meant to show him this poem, but never got the chance. I hope that he would have liked it. Your friend, ~ Gee.

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With: c Lynn Brooks and Geezer

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