You and Me

A world taken by iron and eagles,
With boys as young as 12,
Could I have stomached the grit of sand and blood at Normandy?
Or enraged frost of Stalingrad?
Lullabied by the rumblings of the Panzer,
And bouncing like a kid on the legs of his grandfather,
It must’ve been hell,
But who am I to know?
We shared the same oath,
And scoured the same earth,
Finding manhood,
In no man’s land,
But I dug no foxholes,
No rancorous winters at Bastogne,
When nights grew distilled,
We both drunk from an initiation
Only a few ever tasted,
As the sun snuggles into a blanket of horizon,
Silence heals our reprisals,
And it’s only you and me.

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You can also purchase my first collection of poetry titled War Poems: Over There digitally for $2.99 here.

War Poems: Over There is a gut-punching journey into the soul of a solider with striking imagery relating war experiences in Iraq and the latter acclamation to civilian life. It is a collection of deep and honest thoughts on war and its aftermath without glamour or flag-waving. Regret, suicide, love, lost, naivete, destruction, are deeply woven within the candid poetry of Over There. If you have ever wanted to feel and discover what Veterans face both in the great of battle and in the silence of suffering, Over There will open your heart.

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War Poems

A Veteran Writes An Epic Poem

As a little boy I was always intrigued by epic poetry. The adventure, heriocs, and triumphs gripped me and kept me awake in the quiet nights reading. Most of my poetry have been deep, emotional reflective poems about War and its aftermath. I’ve decided to start a new project writing an epic poem. I have included what I have written thus far. I hope this meets you well.

Private Grunt and The Unforunate Events of War

Canto I.

In the desert where sand filled light was dim,
There slept a sounding grunt who’s life was grim,
The stars blazoning a whispering wind,
As roaring calls were heard from armoured kin.

As rounds earthquaked the rich metal sleet ground,
A Sergeant rushed in to find Grunt confound,
“Private, Private what the hell are you doing!?”
“I’m sleep I’m sleep!” Said Grunt his face blueing.

Grunt rushed forth, with a steel viper in hand,
To slay the beasts who crashed his slumbered plans,
It’s bite was quick a truth known to scare all;
A flash of light that dashed hopes of the fall.

“To the Fifty!” Sergeant said with a charm,S
As brass rained down with gusto and alarm,
“Roger!” said Grunt, young face covered in mud,
But his weight was too much and he crashed with a thud!

He crawled and crawled till the Humvee was in sight,
His heart was quickened of fury and fight,
The moon hissed full with a glorious kiss,
As Grunt thought of all the family he missed.

But no, there was no crying in battle!
He hoisted himself; the turret rattled,
Into the gunners hatch he went full geared,
The fog of war masked all that he feared.

He raised his hand to caress the cool bolt,
The gun sighed a relief, sprung with a jolt!
The dust was thick, there was nothing he could see,
Only the muzzles of his comrades flushed with glee.

Boom boom, boom boom the night filled with a theme:
Of truth, and lost; of choas and of steam,
Grunt eyes filled with the soft grains from a land,
That bury the dreams of green fledging men.

The .50 jammed!  this must be some black art,
But the hue of the barrel did much of it’s part,
Dust quickened to a blinding slick ordeal
A whirlwind of chance, but none of this was real…

It all was a dream a cruel one at that,
You see Grunt was captured by men who hated him back,
Tried and true the fate of war has its due,
And time has its rhyme of the choices we brew.


The rustling wind between the leaves,
A setting sun that cools when it leaves,
A solitude that let’s a heart breathe,
A love that runs deep,
Startled by the piercing cheeps,
As we failed to believe,
That things end it when it needs,
And we cleave to a dream of things deceived.
A shot rang out and we awoke from a sleep,
To find a world that’s dust filled and bleeds.
A commander shouts and the lieutenant leads
Weary infantryman with silent creeds,
Through collapsing sand and damp reeds,
To an oasis where the tide of war recedes.
Until another day where the sun breeds,
Contentious rights and littered streets
Of chaos and prayer beads,
Of youth lost and dreams deceased.
Brotherhood deepens and lives retrieves,
The broken vows of humanity.

-Rob Marshall

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Photo Credit: The U.S. Army