Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
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
by
Joe Moore
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black