military poems

I crave affection. Not sex, but the most innocent parts of affection. I crave somebody to cuddle with me, and lay their head on lap. I crave kisses. I crave holding hands and running my thumb across theirs. I crave somebody to hold me while they tell me their thoughts or issues. I crave just looking at someone and wondering how on earth I got that lucky. I crave the feeling of having someone love me just as much as I love them..

Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you:

Looks like could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll:

Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll:

Looks like could kill you and could actually kill you:

Sinnamon roll:

I thought I had known love before you, but boy was I wrong. With you this is different. This is true love. Not the ‘love’ where youre infatuated with the idea of someone, but once things get tough one of you leaves. That is not love. This, this is love. The love I know in my heart will never die. The love I know, although it just began, can make it through anything the universe may throw at us. The love that can make even the most terrible of places feel like home, just because you are there. I thought I knew love before, but I’m so glad I was wrong.

m.r.s// you got me to write again my love 10:08 pm

Despite the propaganda, there are no monsters,
or none that can be finally buried.
Finish one off, and circumstances
and the radio create another.
Believe me: whole armies have prayed fervently
to God all night and meant it,
and been slaughtered anyway.
Brutality wins frequently,
—  Margaret Atwood, from The Loneliness Of The Military Historian in “Morning In The Burned House”

When He is on Military Leave

I’m telling you, darling

Memorize everything

Notice the signs and cars you pass on the way to his house

Cherish the smell of garlic that fills his kitchen when his sister cooks spaghetti

and appreciate the stories that his dad tells you about his own college professors

Take in the moment when his brother pokes fun at you for being last place in Pictionary on New Years Eve,

even though he was only one point ahead

When you’re the first person awake in the morning besides his parents, linger on the taste of coffee that his mom makes you

As well as the way the white T-shirt fits him when he enters the living room half asleep

When he cracks a joke that opens up blinds to the room- embrace it

When you make him laugh, treasure the details of his pure smile that he tends to hide

When he looks at you, remember how it makes you feel

Memorize every little, insignificant moment

Trust me, you’ll appreciate it when he’s miles and miles away

and you’re still stuck in the cornfields of Illinois

He talks of dough

And kneading - the timing of yeast.

He uses sodium bicarbonate

And magnesium - less floride

To cure the demons beneath.

He served one tour

In Africa, fighting the Ebola disease.

If you think he is a monster

For his size, his crimes, his wild

You should see how hard he tries

To belong to a broken world

In a way that unbreaks it.

You should see him build himself better

You should see him build the medical centers

You should see him build a simple loaf of bread.

There were nine of us camped at West Down South,
And nine of us crossed to France,
And we grew savvy to each other’s gaits,
When all of a sudden we fouled the fates,
And the only one left of all my mates
Is me, by the grace of Chance.

Poem by a Canadian soldier deployed to France during the First World War published in The Brazier, a Canadian soldiers’ newspaper.

From “Shock Troops” by Tom Cook

and the papers never prove me wrong

there are Children
roaming rubbled streets
toting automatic rifles
while adults load
backpacks with clips

there are Fathers
holding faded months
watching years escape
through bloody lip
forsaken wrapped blankets

there are Mothers
who cry prayers
to Heaven without
letters or tears
receiving silent responses

how did this happen?
why does it continue?
where did God go?

there are men who wield
religion like a sharpened sword
there are women who sob
with every shot and bomb drop
there are children who become
ghosts, wearing bandoliers like hope

there are wrinkled suits with
boastful tongues and drying pens
who have no qualms with sending
the poor to war but think funding
for school is a waste of resources
who believe healthcare to be
an unaffordable gated commumity
lining pockets behind closed doors
funding regimes and setting scenes
for future wars so Beretta and Boeing
never fear closing their doors

every day a new Child
learns how to control recoil
and empty spray reload
every day a new Father
learns what it means to lose
a reason for tomorrow
every day a new Mother
learns a way to forget
how to spell love

they say God
left a long
time ago

I say he
was never here
in the first place

It rained the day you left.
It’s like God knew,
it’s like he felt it too.
But the water drops I saw
run down the windows as
I watched you leave,
didn’t compare to
the pools of tears
soaking into my cheeks.
The backwards roll of the tires
on the gravel
became the sound
my ears dread the most.
—  please come home
Ryeowook’s poem to ELF / Le poème de Ryeowook pour les ELF

<Blue Star> Kim Ryeowook

I happened to lift my head to the skies
And I saw your face shining there

With all the memories of us laughing and crying
Withall the tume we’ve spent together

I wonder if you’re doing well
I find myself asking over and over again

You happened to life your head to the skies
I wonder if you remember my voice

With the winds that are warming
With the memories that continue to flow

I hope you’re doing well
I hope we meet again in good health

<Etoile Bleue> Kim Ryeowook

Je suis arrivé à lever ma têtes aux cieux
Et j’ai vu ton visage y briller

Avec tous les souvenirs de nous en train de rigoler et de pleurer
Avec tout le temps que nous avons passé ensemble

Je me demande si tu vas bien
Je me trouve en train de me demander toujours et encore

Il t’es arrivé de lever ta tête au cieux
Je me demande si tu te rappelle de ma voix

Avec les vents qui réchauffent
Avec les souvenirs qui continuent de couler

J’espère que tu vas bien
J’espère que nous nous rencontrerons bientôt en bonne santé

M-249 S.A.W.

Bolt to the rear

It’s time to eat,

Open the feedtray

The belt-now seat.


Full metal jackets


Tracers and green tips

Barrel hot-red.


Unhinge the bipod


Just five-round bursts

This combat zone.


Wait for your orders

Close is your spare,

Barrel if needed

Cyclic rate, rare.



Don’t burn yourself,

Switch em’ out quick

Do it with stealth.


Suppressive fire

Keep their heads down,

Violence of action

Savor that sound.


Now overwhelm them

Make it traumatic,




© Copyright-11/28/17

Gregory J. Fino

Marine Corps (0311)

•Iraq 2005

In darkness

I shall be the light

In fear

I shall remain brave

In doom

I shall be the saviour

In anger

I shall avenge the dead

In wanton destruction

I will hold my own

In endless carnage

I will find hope

In fiery damnation

I will seek retribution

In desolate wasteland

I will find sanctuary

In the sight of the enemy

I accept my fate

In the path of their rage

I accept my fate

In the depth of their fear

I accept my fate

I am the wrath of demons and the mercy of angels

I am no one

I am the solider

You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree

That bloomed in the naval academy’s garden.

Blossoms know they must blow in the wind someday,

Blossoms in the wind, fallen for their country.


You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree

That blossomed in the flight school garden.

I wanted us to fall together, just as we had sworn to do.

Oh, why did you have to die, and fall before me?


You and I, blossoms of the same cherry tree,

Though we fall far away from one another.

We will bloom again together in Yasukuni Shrine.

Spring will find us again – blossoms of the same cherry tree.


“Doki no Sakura” (Cherry blossoms from the same season)

A popular soldiers’ song of the Japanese Imperial Navy during WW2 in which a Kamikaze or naval aviator addresses his fellow pilot – parted in death.

If you’re not scared, then how do you know if you’re making the right decision? Being scared isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of knowing what you want, but figuring out if it’s what you need