Joe Moore

The Combat Soldier

Many accept the name of soldier,
Yet sit in the office, at the rear.

Whilst the real soldier, the combat soldier,
Fight the enemy, eye to eye.

Their uniforms dirty, faces weathered,
Hands rough, minds tethered.

They’ve seen death’s hand, reaching for them,
Their friend’s, death did condemn.

Their weapons are scratched, and used,
Long in the battle, they are abused.

These soldiers seek refuge, in the wire,
Where many spend the operation in its entire.

The combat soldier gets a short rest,
Only to go back out, confined by their vest.

For days they spend in a crosshair,
Terrorist seeking them, death they declare.

Combat soldier, many missions did you fulfill,
Many friends lost, forever still.

No esteem or awards will you receive,
Those with the rank, medals you will receive.

Though the combat soldier defends the post,
Their treated like the lowest, or a ghost.

The soldier and combat soldier, aren’t the same,
The only similarities are in the name.

Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 14, 2010

Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

4,5 out of 5
1 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about The Combat Soldier by Joe Moore

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?