PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Twas a strange time indeed, of protest and song,

those years of your youth, a time of no wrong,

invincible, immortal, life ever long.



The days filled with beaches, nights at a dance,

convertibles, fast cars, girls and romance,

innocence expected, and life happenstance.



Your girl wore a ring on a chain round her neck,

you opened her car door and picked up the check,

then parked on a dark street, but only to neck.



Possessing a draft card bought a six pack of beer,

tinkering with a four-barrel could be your career,

though life and your future was never too clear.



You knew you would marry in a year, maybe two,

you’d buy a small house on a street with a view,

and with no money saved, you knew you’d make-do.



Things sometime happen that put dreams on hold,

that letter they mailed caused your life to unfold,

“Uncle Sam wants you“, at least that’s what I’m told.



Now my Dad was a veteran from world war two,

he’d marched off to war with much ballyhoo,

proud soldier, G I, Government Issue.



He fought the worlds menace, four miserable years,

came home as a hero to brass bands and cheers,

“The war to end all wars”, so it would appear.



Now I hadn’t thought much, wasn’t sure what it meant,

but patriotic duty you can’t circumvent,

I’m off to serve my country, in any event.



Most of my friends never heard of Vietnam,

nor dreamed they would be there amidst a maelstrom,

talking of body counts and dropping napalm.



For this type of fighting you’re quite unprepared,

you fight for their “freedom” in a war undeclared,

yet what‘s saddest of all, it seems no one cared.



They just wanted peace, and a small patch of soil,

to live out their lives, to labor and toil,

put an end to their grief, their strife and turmoil.



You went home as you came, your hat in your hand,

there’s no one to greet you, no cheers or brass ban,.

your life's so confusing, your future's unplanned.



Your friends marched in  protest, you’d done it in vain,

you felt their contempt, and saw their disdain

they don’t understand that their actions caused pain.



Now go back to your home and get on with your lives,

your mortgage, career, your children and wives,

that year's gone forever, nineteen-sixty-five.