Eighteen

I wrote this poem in boot camp in 1965, when I was 18. I really don't think it's that good, but my wife found it and we're using it in little community play. For some reason I have been getting some amazingly positive comments about it. It's short, judge for yourself.


           Eighteen
                By Howard Flomberg

The morning came bright & clear & cold,

I was barely 18 years old,

I went to fight a war,

I don't know what for,

I was only 18 years old.

The politicians said we should go,

The newspapers said it was so,

Go fight that bloody fight,

For God is on our side,

And I am only 18 years old.

But war is a terrible sight,

Grown men indulge in childish fight,

For Honor, blood is spilled,

For Honor, men are killed,

And I was only 18 years old.

A man stands up; he is just my age,

His face is full of ungodly rage,

The sound is bright & sharp,

His bullet finds its mark,

I am only 18 years old,

Is there a reason for all this strife?

Aren't we entitled to life?

On the ground I lie,

On this ground I'll die,

I wish I could be 19 years old.