Poet's Platform Column | 17 May 07 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

Rain Walk The village in flames behind us, We walked east, On a path a thousand years old, Towards Cambodia and the Ho-Chi-Minh trail. The men were angry, Having killed so few—lost so many. Bone soaked we walked, Days and nights/days and nights, Sheets of rain, Satanic fingers Tapping out a cult-song on our ponchos. Eastward, Step after sloshing step, On to Cambodia, On to the next ambush, On and on through the rain, Until the round stops you And the steam rising from your wound Mixes with the Asian mist. R. Franklin Pate Louisville, KY   Our Military   Traveling on a road in the hot desert sands Never knowing what they might face ahead These young heroes hide their fears of doubt Thinking of the love ones back home instead When they got to this awful forbidding land Some had just passed their teenage years As they look back to just about a year ago They couldn't legally have a few cold beers Becoming adults these Soldiers and Marines Growing up amid these times that are trying They will become veterans on that very day They see one of their own lying there dying Don't forget these young men and women For without them our country would not be Through all the years America has existed Our military has fought to keep us all free Acie Workman Eden Park   Our Fallen As we walk this great land with freedom We think of those who have gone away To strange lands to fight for our country It is for all these heroes we have this day With rows of the White crosses standing Each cross bears these brave ones name They fought with valor and with courage Back in a flag draped coffin they came Lives have been altered by these wars We wonder about what might have been Had our soldier survived that last action They would be back home with us again Our country today gives so much gratitude For those who have died in any ghastly war We have provided them a final resting place But to these fallen we owe so much more Acie Workman Eden Park