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Poems By Faye

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  Vietnam
 
The war is not over
We do  remember
for it is chisled in stone
not bearing the pain alone
 
For across the sea
 in a once enemy land,
their memories as strong
 lives a similiar band
 
And beyond so far
where we can not go
For us and them it is so
Peace does gleam

as just a distant dream
 
©Faye Sizemore   September212002

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Enemy’s Dreams
 

I wonder how the former enemy copes,

now that our war is done;

does he suffer bouts of melancholy

or dream of battles lost and won?

 

Does a bone deep mantle of depression

settle ‘round his shoulders like a cape

as he eases his way through the jungles 

of his mind seeking a way to escape

from the never-ending horror of

memories that will not fade?

 

Does he, too, think of friends’ bodies

lying riddled in a glade?

And is his sleep troubled by the

shadowy, stalking shade

of a foreign soldier who pursues him

down a gloomy jungle path

or waits in ambush to trap him in a 

deadly unleashing of wrath?

 

Is there a 'Wall of Heroes' that can

ease his mental pain

and slow the recollections that

march unbidden through his brain?

 

When the velvet night comes softly

to cloak the terrain from view,

does he stir in his sleep uneasily -  

is that demon in his dreams actually you?

 

© 9/22/2002 Thurman P. Woodfork

 

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And They Wait

 

An old lady sits by the fire

Long ago she lost her ire,

She has hated France, The United States, Australia and all the rest

Her husband had gone to do his best.

 

He was forced into the service of North Vietnam,

Her youngest daughter killed by allied napalm.

Nothing from him has she heard

Not a letter not even a word.

 

Now she relegated to sit and wait

Knowing in her heart of his fate.

They had three children at one time

A hard hill they all had to climb.

 

Not knowing he was killed

Within a year his life’s blood had been spilled

Waiting in ambush of an American patrol

When an American helicopter had taken its toll.

 

A while back four American war veterans returned

Not a thing from them had she learned.

All dressed in the finest clothing she had seen

No regret, no remorse, to her they were just plain mean.

 

She had heard of a monument, a wall if you will

To honor American’s that her husband and others had managed to kill.

She had been told that North Vietnam had won the war

So where was her husband of whom she heard no more?

 

Now she and her only daughter sit and wait

Her only son a soldier just like his dad he was pulling his weight.

Hatred like love can rule a soul

Her life and family that war had stole.

 

No monuments, no help, no support does she receive

For all left is to sit and grieve.

She has grown old sitting and thinking of times gone by

For now she only wonders, how and why?

 

©David R. Alexander
November 10, 2002

All Rights Reserved

 

From the cover of KHE SAHN VETERANS MAGAZINE
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PHOTO BY PAUL KNIGHT

 

Complexity Of A Stare

 

Do we when looking see what’s really there,

Or does our inner eye influence the scene,

We can read so many pictures in a stare,

And yet perhaps just overlook the dream.

There’s a special wildness in a warriors gaze,

Designed by fear and survivals will,

Which is not there at a later stage,

Though memories of the conflict lingers still.

There is a hardness, but it is not hate,

A sad remoteness in a threatening eye,

Eyes of a man who already knows his fate,

Eyes of a man who’s not afraid to die.

A man who looks unsmiling on the world,

With the ruins of bitter conflicts in him curled.

 

                      ©Colin F.Jones Nov122002

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9-11-2002

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