POW/MIA Poetry
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POW/MIA Poetry

I have gained permission from Carl Klang's wife, Sunny,to use the lyrics from a song that Carl sings. The name of the song is "I Am The Unknown Soldier". Carl rewrote it for music from a poem written by Patricia O'Grady Parcells. She wrote the poem for her Father who is POW/MIA. Patricia has visited Vietnam twice attempting to find her Father. You can hear a sample of the song at I am the Forgotten Soldier, even just the sample is worth listening to. Go and listen.

"I Am The Unknown Soldier"

        I am the unknown soldier
        Some call me M.I.A.
        Some say I can't go home again
        Some say I chose to stay
        I am the uknown soldier
        who you refuse to know
        A brother and a friend of yours
        Who left so long ago
        Some call me P.O.W.
        The one they left behind
        I am the unknown soldier
        The one they never tried to find
        I'm the one they never tried to find

        I'm a farmer from Missouri
        The soldier from St. Paul
        I was the hero of my family
        And still my pictures upon their wall
        I'm a poet and a scholar
        And the boy who lived next door
        I am the unknown soldier
        Forgotten on a foreign shore
        Long forgotten on a foreign shore

        I was someone's lovin' daddy
        I was someone's pride and joy
        I was someone's tender lover
        A worried Mama's little boy
        And if you should just forget me here
        Then I should forget you too
        Please won't you try to bring me home
        For I'm someone who belongs to you
        I'm still someone who belongs to you

        I am the uknown soldier
        With no more tears to shed
        I'm just a fading memory
        A part of the living dead
        My country has betrayed me
        Yet I have forgiven you
        And every night I pray to God
        That somehow he'll forgive you too
        Yes even somehow he'll forgive you too

        I am the unknown soldier
        The one for whom you cried
        That familiar face that you can't face
        The one your country told you died
        I am the unknown soldier
        With dreams you'll rescue me
        And I am a man who understands
        Only death might ever set me free
        Only death might ever set me free

        I am the unknown soldier
        And I'm black and blue and grey
        I said I am the unknown soldier
        And I die slowly every day
        And I'm tired and I'm hungry
        I am the unknown soldier
        The one you bought and sold
        I'm the one you bought and sold

        So lay down close beside me now
        And gently stroke my face
        And wrap your arms around me now
        Before we leave this place
        Some called me P.O.W.
        Some called Me M.I.A.
        Some say I can't come home again
        But I will return someday

Click here to read the poem as originally written by Patricia.

Patricia I believe Your father will be home one day. We can make it happen!

    The Night Before Christmas

    Twas the night before Christmas, He lived all alone,
    in a one bedroom house of plaster and stone.
    I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
    and to see just who in this home did live.
    I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
    no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
    No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
    on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
    With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
    a sober thought came through my mind.
    For the house was different, it was dark and dreary,
    I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
    The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
    curled up on the floor of his one bedroom home.
    The face was so gentile, the room in such disorder,
    not how I pictured a united states soldier.
    Was this the hero of whom I had read?
    Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

    I realized the families that I saw this night,
    owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
    Soon round the world, the children would play,
    and the grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
    The all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
    because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
    I couldn't help wonder how many live alone,
    on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.
    The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
    I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
    The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
    "Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;
    I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
    my life is my god, my country, my corps."
    The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,

    I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
    I Kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
    and we both shivered from the cold night's chill
    I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,
    this guardian of honor so willing to fight.

    Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
    whispered, "Carry on Santa, It's Christmas day, all is secure."
    One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
    Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.

    Anonymous

THE COLORS ON ME WON'T RUN

        My colors will be here
        Long after you are gone
        I was here,
        Have been here,and
        Always will be here
        Through war and peace
        My colors are red, white, and blue
        Red means courage
        The courage of all men and boys
        Who fought for me and
        What I stood for

        Red also stands for blood
        Blood that has been shed
        In defending me, in honor
        of me and the country
        I stand for and love

        White stands for purity
        Purity of heart and morals
        that men fought for
        White also means innocence
        Innocence of boys,
        No more than men
        Who have fought for me

        Blue stands for faith
        Faith that I and my country
        Will never die in a war.
        Blue also stands for constance
        Constance of never giving up
        In battle, or for believing
        In me, and honoring me
        During peace time.

        The stars stand for eveyr state
        Of every man who went
        And fought for wars.
        That showed unity
        When facing an enemy.

        I am your flag, I
        Stand for courage,
        Loyalty, honesty,
        And unity.

        Remember me, for
        Many have stood
        Beside me...
        My colors are constant,
        They will never run...

        SummerBreeze, June, 1998

HERRICK
PITMAN
WHITFORD
POOPY PEOPLE

VIETTI
OLSEN
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