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Only Nineteen |
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I was only nineteen
Only nineteen
Not old enough to buy a drink
But old enough to die in abbreviated life succinct
Sent to war by old men who sit and sigh
Pointing at war-maps where fallen in battle I lie
Life gouged out of me mid fetid green marzipan
Just a pawn in the plan for Vietnam
My last days discordantly sung
Severed frail existence from me woefully wrung.
I was only nineteen...
Only nineteen
Fallen dead, with so much future to live for
God willing, I could touch thousands as an educator
Each student of mine, influencing thousands more
Who'd each influence many thousands more...
God willing, I could entertain millions as an actor
God willing, I could bring truth in justice as an advocator
I could be a concert pianist, an ambassador, a peacemaker.
I was only nineteen...
Only nineteen
God willing, I could have brought tears as a great tenor
I could have revolutionized America as a great inventor
God willing, I could of great books be the author
God willing, I could be this country's greatest leader...
God willing, this fledgling warrior, fallen forlorn on vacuous sod,
Might have been a humble man of God...
If I had lived, I might've fostered a great family
Nurturing buds in burgeoning heritage of posterity
Children, and grandchildren galore gathering around my knee
Each child with a blossoming future of his own, you see
But it was not to be, my dream... this great legacy
For by the warrior's sword, in the mud and the blood it died
Without great fanfare, only my mother cried
For I was only nineteen... Only nineteen. |
By
Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2007
Listed
September 12, 2010 |
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About
Author...
In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co
2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat
infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple
Heart.
Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he
hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by
a Vietnamese legend that says, "All poets are
full of silver threads that rise inside them as
the moon grows large." So Gary says he
writes because "It is that these silver
threads are words poking at me � I must let them
out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot
bear to talk of what they've seen and to educate
those who haven't the foggiest idea about the
effect that the horrors of war have on
boys-next-door."
Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information
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