It is the Veteran - a poem

Discussion in 'Remembering' started by knewheart, May 6, 2005.

  1. knewheart

    knewheart Active Member

    Likes Received:
    12
    Trophy Points:
    38
    It is the VETERAN, not the preacher,
    who has given us freedom of religion.

    It is the VETERAN, not the reporter,
    who has given us freedom of the press.

    It is the VETERAN, not the poet,
    who has given us freedom of speech.

    It is the VETERAN, not the campus organizer,
    who has given us freedom to assemble.

    It is the VETERAN, not the lawyer,
    who has given us the right to a fair trial.

    It is the VETERAN, not the politician,
    Who has given us the right to vote.
  2. nurseflo

    nurseflo Member

    Likes Received:
    6
    Trophy Points:
    16
    I've read this one before'How true it is.Thank You Vets.
  3. rainvet

    rainvet New Member

    Likes Received:
    2
    Trophy Points:
    0
    My Son

    This is great, take a moment to read it, it will make your day!
    ( Take my Son )
    A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art.
    They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael.
    They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

    When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war.
    He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.
    The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

    About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door
    A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

    He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son
    gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety
    when a bullet struck him in the heart and hedied instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package.
    "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son
    would have wanted you to have this."

    The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the
    young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eye welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and then offered to pay him far the picture."Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

    The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to
    his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them
    any of the other great works he had collected.

    The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his
    paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great
    paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

    On the platform sat the painting of the son.The auctioneer pounded his gavel
    "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"

    There was silence.

    Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."

    But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting.
    Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"

    Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to
    see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"

    But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

    Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime
    gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

    "We have $10, who will bid $20?"

    "Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

    "$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

    The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.

    They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

    The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

    A man sitting on the second row shouted,

    "Now let's get on with the collection!"

    The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

    "What about the paintings?"

    "I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction,
    I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal
    that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned.

    Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"

    God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer,His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?"

    Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

    FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON,
    WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S LOVE

    Do whatever you like, but remember that maybe "one" of the people you
    might have taken the time to send this to, may be just the person who
    needs to hear this message. You have a choice to make." GOD BLESS
    knewheart likes this.
  4. Garysmom

    Garysmom New Member

    Likes Received:
    1
    Trophy Points:
    0
    How Beautiful!

    Thanks :) so much for sharing this wonderful story.......
    My first visit to this site and to read such beauty well I'm sure glad I came!!
    I will surely PASS this one on........
    Garysmom!
    knewheart likes this.
  5. Billw018

    Billw018 New Member

    Likes Received:
    1
    Trophy Points:
    0
    Knewheart:

    More thoughts of a “Veteran”

    THE FINAL INSPECTION


    The soldier stood and faced God,
    Which must always come to pass.
    He hoped his shoes were shining,
    Just as brightly as his brass.


    "Step forward now, you soldier,
    How shall I deal with you ?
    Have you always turned the other cheek ?
    To My Church have you been true?"


    The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
    "No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
    Because those of us who carry guns,
    Can't always be a saint.


    I've had to work most Sundays,
    And at times my talk was tough.
    And sometimes I've been violent,
    Because the world is awfully rough.


    But, I never took a penny,
    That wasn't mine to keep...
    Though I worked a lot of overtime,
    When the bills got just too steep.


    And I never passed a cry for help,
    Though at times I shook with fear.
    And sometimes, God, forgive me,
    I've wept unmanly tears.


    I know I don't deserve a place,
    Among the people here.
    They never wanted me around,
    Except to calm their fears.

    If you've a place for me here, Lord,
    It needn't be so grand.
    I never expected or had too much,
    But if you don't, I'll understand.


    There was a silence all around the throne,
    Where the saints had often trod.
    As the soldier waited quietly,
    For the judgment of his God.


    "Step forward now, you soldier,
    You've borne your burdens well.
    Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
    You've done your time in Hell."



    ~Author Unknown~



    It's the Military, not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the press. It's the Military, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It's the Military, not the politicians that ensures our right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. It's the Military who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag.
    knewheart likes this.
  6. nurseflo

    nurseflo Member

    Likes Received:
    6
    Trophy Points:
    16
    You know you should furnish k;eenex with that!!It was beautiful!!!!
  7. PoetPatriot.com

    PoetPatriot.com New Member

    Likes Received:
    0
    Trophy Points:
    0
    It's the Veteran - A different Version

    Check out my "It's the Veteran" poem among my many Veteran poems.
    My Veteran Poetry Index is at Veterans.PoetPatriot.com

    I thank all who serve for facilitating my liberty.

Share This Page