Saturday, December 17, 2011

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.

2 comments:

  1. You my dear friend are a very talented writer. David probably saw this in you when you weren't listening, Howie, you have made me cry like a baby. Your poem is timeless. It can and would be linked to any war from any time. Thank you, I love you as always. Thank you Judy for helping us know him better.

    Charli

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