I could not see the setting sun

But felt the joy of life.

You, with your eyes, did see the gun

As curing human strife.

I could not hear the singing bird

But felt the ocean’s roar.


You, with your ears, heard every word

To cheer you off to war.

I could not walk upon the sand;

With books my heart did soar.

You, with your legs, did chase the band

And marched yourself to gore.

I would not trade this body worn

For one that has no fault

If the perfect one is only born

For mayhem and assault.

My lips don’t talk with prattle;

I reach out to stay your hand.

Heed not the saber rattle

That ripples thru the land.

“Too late,” you say aboard the train

In uniform so neatly pressed.

“The victory we will surely gain

Before my gun is put to rest.”

Your eyes don’t see the horror.

Your ears don’t hear the rain.

Your feet don’t shake with terror,

From your lips no cry of pain.

For the killer and the kill

All wars have been in vain.

The body broken, the breath is still,

As you pass this way again.

This poem was written during the Vietnam era.

Send in your favorite poem!

Readers are invited to submit poems no longer than 150 words in length. Submissions will be edited for spelling and punctuation only. Please submit entries to: The Malibu Times, 3864 Las Flores Canyon Rd., Malibu, CA 90265, or by e-mail to:

The Malibu Times is the first newspaper in Malibu, serving the community since 1946.

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