Iraq...These Things We Do Poem by Philip Lore

Point a weapon, kill a man,
Every day is so trying,
In this desert land.

Soldiers dead, in green body bags,
Sniper rounds, throwing frags.
Bodies shattered all around,
Bombed out buildings, bombed out towns.

EFP's, night patrols,
Soldiers waiting in hasty holes.
B-52's flying high,
Hearing bombs drop,
Heaving a sigh,
Watching men die.

Putrid smells, death in the air,
Shooting and killing,
Violence lives everywhere.

MRAP's moving, not in a line,
Everyone eye watching,
Out for a mine.

The enemy here,
Hates President Bush,
Fighting and dying in a deadly ambush.

Eating cold, MRE's,
Baghdad with tall, lush palm trees.
Days that are hot,
Nights that are cool,
Swimming in Sadam's,
Olympic size pool.

Never to ask, why we fight this war,
I'll do my time, finish my tour.
When I rotate back,
To my simple life,
I'll hug all the grandkids,
Kiss my sweet wife.

Remember the troops,
Still fighting here,
All of their troubles,
All of their fear.
I'll pray to the Lord,
When I'm all alone,
To end this war,
So, that they can come home.

*EFP's-Explosive Formed Projectiles
*MRAP-Mine resistant armored protected vehicle
*MRE-Meal ready to eat
*FRAG-Fragmentary grenade