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Friday, June 25, 2010


A tribute poem from The Things they Carried, written by Tim O’ Brien.

By. Starlotte Green

Lieutenant Cross slept in his quite hole.
He held tightly to that one picture,
Of a girl he imagined to love.
Pretending that he loved became his security.

We walked through unknown country,
One by one by one;
Carrying our own weight for survival
And the dead weight of fear.

Everyone would carry their own habits
Jenson carried soap,
Henry carried food for two,
Ted used to carry tranquilizers
But now he is dead.

Fear was a universal weight.
No one would portray this fear.
We all carried it in silence,
It was weak to cry.

Every thing we carried was accounted for.
Each ounce mattered.
Heavy boots,
Heavy guns,
Heavy fear of death.
Every thing counts.

When we had to go underground.
Only one of us would go.
It depended on the number we chose;
If we would be lucky enough to live.

Ted was the unlucky one.
No one thought it was his time.
But he just fell flat.
Boom.
Nothing else.
Flat dead.
No drama. Just dead.

Cross silently felt guilty.
He was responsible for the lives of these men.
He was now responsible for their death.
He wept.

Cross hated that picture,
Of the girl from the other world.
It was just his imagination.
He no longer needed the empty love.
He would only lead us now.


Here is a link to some beautiful poems about war.

http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/

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