The Chosen Man

by | Mar 7, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

Boots bulled up with a mirror shine
Sun’s rays warming and feeling fine
From new recruit, to chosen man
Defends his country, best way he can.

He proudly marches, getting dressings from the right
The Royal Green Jackets 1986, what a beautiful sight
The pace is fierce, quicker than the rest
Tuned to be smart, passed the final test

Thrown in the deep end, to Crossmaglen
Many have trodden, and will again
It’s different now, no smiles no shine
Falling rain and scared not fine

Sniper six oclock, the shout goes out
I can’t see him, he see’s us no doubt
What a cowardly way, to fight a war
From inside a house, where no one saw.

It’s been three months, he’s blooded well
No emotion, no fear, inside his shell
Daily contacts, now seem so mundane
The faces of death, seen again and again

The tour is over, back across the water
Four days spent in the arms of his daughter
The best place to be, he’s totally at peace
Early morning walks, both wrapped in his fleece.

Back in Warminster a beautiful town
Regimental barracks the best carpet laid down
It’s a long way away from that border post
Warm meals, clean sheets not cold tea and toast

Proud to have been a chosen man
Defended his country the best way he can
Days now spent in the arms of his girls
With K,S and Jess and her beautiful curls.

The fight was hard, the rewards were few
He did, just like others, what he had to do
Feels guilty sometimes as he walks hand in hand
About those who never made it back to their promised land.


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