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This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-12-22 02:33:12 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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the Season of the War

Tis the season when the mind begins to drift and, it being upon us now; while we are at war How ironic! the American Soldier fighting for the country that he has always known and loved For that one 'Nation Under God' How saddened I am to note the threads that weave! For there is knitting in the homeland an evil; yarning with deception tidbits of manna mixed with blood, notions, peace offerings and tokens obsolete with age our country of one lost in diverse crowds of money changers and taxpayers who long to be merry and gay the bright reds and greens are but blood and grief for the American Soldier has left the One Nation Under God and the Christian soldiers bow down. He is the reason for the season...

Additional Notes:
Give our soldiers a gift won't you? Send them cookies, tobacco and ham. Send them toothpaste and toilet paper. Send them a note from home. Give them 10 minutes a day. If all of the Christian people would give up ten minutes each day to say a prayer that they might get a good nights sleep, or a good meal.....our soldiers could come home....our soldiers could come home...

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-12-22 21:38:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, In my neck of the woods we've got lots of stuff piled to be mailed. With not enough postage to send. So thats something to give to. I feel such empathy for those young kids sacrificing life and limb for idealistic goals. And in the backdrop lurk the people cleaning up on the war business. I've gotten wize a bit late but I'm trying to make up. Doing something/anything/everything to stop the madness is better than doing nothing. Good job Ellen, you cut to the heart of whats important. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2006-12-22 18:48:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
You have touched my heart with this one poet..........My son in law served a little over a year at the beginning of this war in Iran and he is now home yet our prayers are still with all who serve this country both at home and abroad. Your words are so right on. A hard poem to write perhaps and I am all for sending our thanks each day of the year hoping it will bring our men and women home.........May you and yours have a Merry Christmas as you celebrate the true meaning of the season, He Who Is....Jesus.......God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-12-22 10:10:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
We easily forget those making the ultimate sacrifice this dismal war is taking, just as we did in and after the War in Viet Nam. I've always said, Ellen, that those that breed these wars work overtime to try and represent protest against the war as protest against the soldier. It is not. More than anything else it is FOR the soldier. The confusion, I'm certain is intended...with full media co-operation. Have you noticed the failings of the media to approach soldiers that have been extricated from the war, either by wounds or time served, for interview? Even during Desert Storm there was some feed-back from them. Not now, the Manager of Thought Department of the White House has found a way to keep the media in line. It's easy when big business is allowed to monopolize the networks and press because the anti-trust laws are selectively enforced. Fewer rich (most likely Republican) owners with which to have to deal. Wonder what flavors of new disease this war will add to the social equation? We got Desert Storm Snydrome out of the last. Ask Lora how well the VAHs are taking care of them. Your poem sets a most proper and concerned perspective about the whole affair. We are responsible, more than anything else, for the fate of our precious men and women who have braved the unknown for noble cause. Not asking why or wherefore, but led by the values we taught them. As you, I pray for their body and souls and safe return. Vastly too many have died and, as with Viet Nam, I fear their deaths will one day come to be thought of even more bitterly by their loved ones than had they sacrificed in a war that held more meaning. I believe you imply similar concerns in your poem. JCH

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