Published Work

Published work from Veterans Voice publication, submitted by veterans

Lost

by Dorothy Remo

VA Media Center, San Antonio, TX

Typist: Lee Torres

 

What is it like to think you might be crazy or acting crazy when nothing is certain? Everything has turned so different. I’m looking at my world from a distant place where I’m not participating, no interacting.

My thoughts have blown up–they are so big and consume all my time. Are there aliens in the corner? I want to ask someone. It looks like there are buy my eyes can’t see clearly. I can’t ask because no one is paying attening to what’s happening, to what I’m seeing and feeling.

Everything that is….    Read more in the Spring 2015 issue of Veterans’ Voices magazine.

Seeds

by Paul Wilkison

 

Every civilization

Contains within

Itself two types

Of seeds:

At the beginning,

Seeds of greatness.

At the end,

Sees of destruction.

 

VAMC, Albuquerque, NM

Writing Ade: Phyllis Bibeau

Typist: Jane Harvey

Double Love

By Jesse W. Sturghill, Jr, VAMC—Memphis, TN

Writing Aide/Typist: Susan Matthews

 

To measure your love is a very hard test.

It must have the unity and highest respect.

People talk of hate and pain every day,

The only solution is to have double love in play.

 

To live a good live, you must know what these things mean.

Today is not promised, tomorrow is never seen.

I met an old man who once had a good start.

His hopes were all crushed by a broken heart.

 

One day it will be my chance at success.

Until that, I’ll work hard and do my best.

To live a good live you must know what these things mean.

Today is not promised, tomorrow never seen.

Veterans’ Day

By David B. Waldon, VAMC – Prescott, AZ

 

Today I saw grown men cry

As they looked a statue in the eye.

A flood of memories they have to hear.

We will never understand since we were not there.

 

They served this country like many before,

But we pit on them and slammed our doors.

So many died; I watched the news wild eyed.

I could not wait to fight by their side.

 

Fifty-thousand young men never came back,

So we built a wall that makes it fact.

The parade was great, the smiles, puppies, and people galore.

For an hour we forgot that we still at war.

 

Our freedom each day has been paid for with blood.

There’s a solider somewhere in the rain and the mud.

He never really knows if he will ever come home,

As he sits on a hill afraid and alone.

 

The one thing he has is his brother beside,

And together they fight for all of our lives.

So remember these men in your prayers every night,

They are standing guard so we can sleep tight.

Tears

By Karen Green

I’d like to have a dime
for every teardrop that I shed,
then it wouldn’t seem worthless
to shed tears to clear my head.
Sometimes my heart feels heavy,
my life so filled with fears,
I could relieve myself from this weight
if I just would shed some tears.
I’ve always been told to stand tall,
that crying’s a waste of time,
but to hold back those tears
only hurts the mind.
Tears are like raindrops.
They cleanse the inner man,
so I don’t have to hold back,
I’ll cry, I know I can.
When my heart feels heavy
and my life starts to fill with fears,
I’ll relieve myself from that weight
by crying some healthy tears.

VAMC—Las Vegas, NV

My Gratitude

By Michael D. Monfrooe

“Do no harm,” a sacred oath to which you swore.
I too took an oath preparing me for war.
You trained long and hard to be the very best.
I served our country, medals on my chest.
You treat the suffering, comfort families that wait.
I trained men and women, not knowing their fate.
You visit patients at night to ease their fear.
I’ve consoled many a soldier as they shed a tear.
Your skills are a true gift, to ease one’s pain.
Patients see in you, hope, a future and that you care.
Once people saw in my eyes a “Thousand Year Stare.”
Such awe inspiring words, “Do no harm.”
You did fine by me, Doc; I didn’t buy the farm.

VAMC—Fargo, ND

A Gift of Hope

by Charles S. Parnell

Give me a gift that none can give,

A gfit of hope, a reason to live.

Grant me this gift within your reach,

A lesson to learn, a lesson to teach.

 

Give me the faculty to cry,

To start again, a reason why.

Grant me the strength to fill the need

As never before, in word and deed.

 

Grant me a life to live in hope,

To smile each day, to fully cope.

Grant me this gift, I ask once more,

From your full house to my front door.

 

This gift of hope will fill a need;

From dusk ’til dawn it scatters seed.

And when this gift is mine to keep,

Calm comes again like peaceful sleep.

                     VAMC-Pittsburg, PA

Hope for Humanity

By Carlos Ortiz

A great person once told me life is a journey to be lived,

Not a problem to be solved.

I continuously reiterate these words to all my friends and family

Who are overwhelmed with life or are dysfunctionally involved.

These words are the essences of my sanity,

For I am constantly worried about superfluous things like vanity.

We are social beings that need each other,

In order to coexist we should live like sister and brother.

I close these few linkes with total reservation

And hope one day all humans can show each other love and dedication.

VAMC-Brooklyn, NY

Typists: Deena Jacobs

Healing

By Earnest Jenkins

 

Healing comes when we come together

to bring peace.

Our faith keeps us connected

to one another.

Our thoughts constantly rotate around

in isolation.

We fall into a deep sleep.

We awaken to a sound of a new day

a day of reckoning

that gives us the power to heal

the brokenhearted.

Healing comes with our minds are renewed

by our faith

that created a new being.

 

VAMC-Las Vegas, NV

Warriors

By Charles Corley, Jr.

VA Medical Center — Hines, IL

 

We have come together because there is no easy

way. We are searching step-by-step for a way and a

language: a way to see ourselves clearly and a language

to give and receive the love that is hidden

somewhere in each of us.

There are everywhere, blind streets and dead end

alleys, but together we are building an open road.

Bad choices do not account for failures, but only for

mistakes; and the only mistakes which count permanently

are not so much errors, as our willingness to

be defeated by them. The most pitiful thing is a man

or woman who thinks he or she has nothing more

to learn. For although there is not a man or woman

exempt from guilt or dishonesty, there are some who

love their guilt and dishonesty.

Warriors, this house is only brief shelter along

the way. My brothers and sisters can only extend a

hand and I am only a possibility. For what we are,

we have chosen to be; and because we choose, we

are responsible. So long as we only wait for something

to happen, time will be a thief and hope a crook.

Remember warriors, there is only one kind of magic and that is doing! ■

 

Writing Aide: Scott Buckley

Typist: Pat Kranzow