| To read look at writing by children, click here. |
| “I wish I could sleep through the war” by Jo Ann Sohl MFSO Bergen County I wish I could sleep through the war! The pain is so constant, the anger so severe. I just wish I could just sleep through the war. My child, My baby, feels like he has been kidnapped from me. He faces such dangers that none of us sees. My cries, my pleas seem to get me nowhere. I want to yell, “Bring Our Troops Home” If only Mr. Bush hadn’t sent our troops there If he only had a child serving Then he would know our pain. I wish I could just sleep through the war. The days go by not a word I hear, My heart is always in fear. A call or a knock could set off my tears. I wish I could just sleep through the war! |
| In honor of JoAnn Sohl and Her Son Walter: Tears, tears, she cries to herself til the screams of her fears spill like crystals from a shelf. Little pieces falling everywhere. not unlike the tears that her heart could not bear.. Bare not knowing where he may go- the fear of not knowing- She may never know. And coming back- making it back- not knowing what was what! This became her present - the daily aching of heart and gut! She hides her fears behind a smile, - at times it helps get by a while. Forcing her mind to another space, to cover the pain for said time and said place. Too shortly though, the pain shoots back a feeling of guilt- for having gone off track. But she keeps on going, She keeps fighting too! She'll be there to do what a mother must do! Her strength swells up - for the love of her child. To take him away, for sure she'll go Wild! Though he made his choice, and one to be proud - not many would have braved. Risking his life, through dangerous strife -so others may be saved. Yet still he fights for his country --his blood so true and blue! And Mother fights to bring him home --the boy she raised and grew. And she'll tread that mile with every last breath For the love of her child, she'll fight to the death! She'll go to bat, no matter what the test, for the life of her son, she'll do more than her best. "So put up your dukes, and open your mouth; Keep thinking she's right paw, then she'll show you her South. With Love , God Bless! Jeannine Benedicks, a friend of Jo Ann's Bring The troops Home!! |
| Amy by Paula Rogovin MFSO Bergen County Nineteen Her name, the only one today in the New York Times box-of-the-dead. Didn’t know her but, she’s someone’s daughter. Maybe Amy just wanted a job or the promised college education. Amy’s dead dead no noble cause just dead in a war based on lies and greed Probably you didn’t know her or the thousands of other sons and daughters – from Iraq and the USA - dead. If your heart aches for their loved ones, Let your pain move you to speak out. |
| Derek By Paula Rogovin Derek Twenty His name, the only one today In the New York Times Box-of-the-dead. Derek Didn’t know him Maybe wanted to see the world - Like what the recruiter promised. Promise fulfilled. He saw a world - of violence and destruction Based on lies Over oil. But, what of the promise of a young man Think of what he could have been. Today, Derek joined the 60 Iraqi’s Not listed In the New York Times Box-of-the-dead. If your soul aches for Derek’s loved ones, Let your pain move you to speak out. |
Why I cry by JoAnn Sohl I cry for the soldier who has died in this war, who never had a chance to a family of his own. I cry for the mother who has lost a son, she will never get over the grief that has been done. I cry for the troops both night and day, for this President has put them in such a bad, bad way I cry for the innocent people of Iraq, the mother, the father, who lost a child in this war, they must feel as much anger as I. Their country is not secure. It may never be. Neither will ours after what we have done. I cry for them all, I cry most of all for my son, the light of my life, for his safety and return. I cry when Bush goes on national TV with that smirk, how I wish he stop smirking.. I cry because our mighty nation is being ruined by just a few dumb men, how can we let this happen at our hands. I cry because my life feels like it is ruined by this war. Even though I have never been to Iraq, I feel the empty sadness tugging at my heart. Tell Me Mr. Bush how many more years before we depart. We cannot go on any longer. For our anger and fears of loosing our sons and daughters has torn hearts. I cry for the soldier who comes home and takes his own life The atrocities he must have seen we could not no even imagine his fight. I cry and pray for peace. I cry I cry , and I cry |
| THE DOORBELL RINGS by Barbara O'Conner, mother of a soldier in the 172nd Stryker Brigade MFSO, Bergen County It’s 2:30 in the afternoon when the doorbell rings I peek out the window and then answer it It’s OK it’s not the Army It’s 6 o’clock in the evening when the doorbell rings I peek out the window and then answer it It’s OK it’s not the Army It’s 8:30 in the morning and I’m still in bed when the doorbell rings I pull the covers over my head and can’t answer it It might be the Army How much longer must we live with this terror |
| Yellow Ribbons by Anne E Cassidy There are no ribbons in Baghdad, Nothing there remotely tied to safety. Those are for the distant places: A Montana mailbox, A tree-lined street in New Jersey, A telephone pole in Texas or Tennessee. Yet one thing is the same: Mothers don't sleep Be they Sunni Shiite or State-side. Instead they sigh the sounds of sorrow, Unleashed in separate time zones Again and again. The numbers go up on the news, Tears come down on white crosses, on body bags and blood-drenched streets, the President speaks hollow words to our all-American dreams. More mothers fail to sleep; another yellow ribbon adorns another tree. In rain, wind and snow, it calls, simply, Bring them home; There can be peace only when there is peace. January 2007 |
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| WHAT PEOPLE SAY by Barbara O'Connor When people know you are against the war in Iraq They say: "The military is all volunteer and they enlisted" I say: " Yes they did ,but not to fight in an illegal war based on lies" They say : "If you are against the war you don’t support the troops I say: "Not true, we support them 100 percent with whatever they need By sending them mail , packages, whatever they tell us they need Telling them we love them when they call home, allowing them to tell us or not tell us their feelings about the war |
Anti-war Poems By MFSO Bergen County Members and friends |
| POSTURING By John Fenton POSTURING THE DOCTOR CALLED IT SHOCKING I CALL IT CONTORTED SHOULDERS ROLLED-IN FOREARMS CLENCHED FISTS SURE LOOKED MEANINGFUL NO! INVOLUNTARY SIGNALS BYPASS THE RAVAGED BRAIN OTHERS POSTURE “BRING IT ON" “INSURGENCY IN THE LAST THROES” SHOCKINGLY NO COMMUNICATION FROM THE BRAIN |
| PRAYER ANSWERED By John Fenton, Little Ferry GOD ANSWERS PRAYERS THE NUNS TAUGHT YEARS AWAY I RETURN SAVE MY SON, SAVE MY SON GOD DOES NOT REGARD MY REQUEST ONE WEEK IN HELL NO INFERNO, STILL FAMILIES BURN DEATH HOVERS PRAY ANEW TAKE MY SON, TAKE MY SON CAN YOU IMAGINE? PLEASE LORD, TAKE HIM NOW THANK YOU GOD |
| RUMMY COMES CALLING by John Fenton DURING THE STUPOR SOMEONE ASKED “WOULD YOU WANT TO MEET…… DRIFTS AWAY IN THE HAZE SWARM OF UNIFORMS AND SUITS APPROACHING---- RUMSFELD I THINK “HOW SMALL A MAN, HE HAS TIME TO TAN?” HE GLANCES AT MATT “OH MY” NO CLOSER THEN AT ME “YOU MUST BE HAVING A DIFFICULT TIME” F UCK YOU, STRANGLE, KILL TREMBLING WITH RAGE “YOU MUST END THIS MADNESS” “WE ARE TRYING” THEN HE IS GONE HORSE AND PONY IN TOW NEVER ASKED MATTHEW’S NAME HE CARED DAYS LATER AS I SAT BEDSIDE A CRAG OF A MAN CAME IN BEHIND ME HUGGED HIM AS I RECOGNIZED MURTHA ASKED HOW WE’RE HOLDING UP SAID WE WERE DOING RIGHT RIGHT FOR MATT I NEVER TOLD HIM HE KNEW HE CARED AN AMERICAN HERO ATTACKED BECAUSE HE’S IN OPPOSITION HAD SEEN ENOUGH MATTHEWS WE HUGGED WHEN HE LEFT SUPPORT THE TROOPS MUST EMBRACE A WARRIOR NO LONGER ABLE TO BATTLE BRING ‘ EM HOME |
John Fenton's son, Matthew, was at Bethesda Naval Hospital one week before he died on May 5, 2006. John wrote these poems in February, 2008. |