I was only nineteen... Only nineteen
Sent to war by old men who sit and sigh
Pointing at war-maps where fallen in battle I lie
Not old enough to buy a drink
But old enough in war to die an abbreviated life succinct
Life gouged out of me mid fetid green marzipan
Just a pawn in the battle's plan
My last days discordantly sung
Severed frail existence from me woefully wrung.
I was only nineteen... Only nineteen
Fallen dead, with so much future to live for
God willing, I could have touched thousands as an educator
Each student, influencing thousands more
Who would each influence many thousands more...
God willing, I could have entertained millions as an actor
God willing, I could have brought tears as a great tenor
I could have become a concert pianist, an ambassador,
Bringing truth in justice as an advocator.
I was only nineteen... Only nineteen
God willing, I could have of great books been the author
I could have revolutionized America as a great inventor
God willing, I could have been this country's greatest leader
God willing, I could have been a great peacemaker
Blessing this troubled world's harmonious relations
Fostering world brotherhood connections.
God willing, this fledgling warrior fallen forlorn on vacuous sod
Might have been a humble man of God...
If I had lived, I might've fostered a great family
Nurturing buds in burgeoning heritage of posterity
Children and grandchildren galore gathering around my knee
Each child with a blossoming future of his own, you see
Doctors, lawyers, scientists following my footsteps after me
But it was not to be, my dream ... this great legacy
For by the warrior’s sword, in the mud and the blood it died
Without great fanfare, only my mother cried
For I was only nineteen... Only nineteen.
Some Mother’s son I never knew
Lies fallen dead on foreign shores
Shorn of worldly essence in shadowy violence hue
So forever to gods of war his mother implores.
Some Mother’s son lies 'neath cold, cold ground
Planted ignominiously by insidious foe
Worlds away some mother cries a sad and mournful sound
Fearing beguiling devils her son too soon will know.
Memories of some Mother’s son fade quickly to dust
To “the world” his remembrance now just a blur
His memory lost in battled mist of terror and fuss
But always held fast in the mourning heart of her...
Some Mother’s son went to fight for duty just
He never made protest or stir...
For to do his duty he must
To do less would make of him an ungrateful cur.
Some Mother’s son war's spirit tore
Gone marching into the maw of vile death's combat chore
Praying mightily to the Master who earth and skies adore
To lessen the sting of enemy slings and arrows sore.
For some Mother’s son saw the very worst of war
Felt fear to the bone ... faith not always enough
Leaving but a shell of a man for “the world” to abhor.
For trust in God cruel war does rebuff.
Some Mother’s son has looked cruel death in the eye
Heard that evil temptress's cackling cajole
Barely escaping the gory demon's maw, he does rise
Yet feels hoary breath caressing his warrior soul.
Some Mother’s son feels the devil’s pain
Feels evil fingers encircling his warrior’s heart
Forevermore on darkening shadowed souls to rain
Feeling the aching of pure evil’s fiercest dart.
Buy the book!
Poems of war in Vietnam and Iraq, by Gary Jacobson, 270 pages to tug at the heart, to stimulate the spirit with the touching words of one who has been there/done that.
Book contains over 200 color pictures and graphics.
Remember, books make great Father's Day or Birthday gifts for that special veteran, or his family, or that student of the now generation who needs to know!
Buy the book!
View My Guestbook