Foxhole Poems - Poems about Foxhole

“I am going to peek out the foxhole!” The squirrel told his troop. “Don’t call it that!” screeched Finicky Farlane, spilling his soup. Seriously, it is called that for real, Finicky, said Sergeant McBeal. They should rename it then, Farlane said, spilling the rest of his meal....

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No poetry in a foxhole when the shelling starts Battle-weary soldiers contest Well, there are no poets in a foxhole either I was about to protest... Rat-a-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat Grinning bullets whiz by my grimacing hat Feel what happens to a foxhole When a poet gets ahold of that ...

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THE FOXHOLE I was not on the forefront upon a battle ground, But in a little foxhole was where I would be found. It was a little bunker upon a little hill, I kept a watch there nightly, a duty to fulfill. I didn’t like it, really, but not liked it at all If I was in the forefront, responding to...

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The silence... The stillness Akin to shadows, long fingers reach Warriors and I Lie here in the hallow Fear…beside us, beseech! Where is the enemy? Whispers seem to ring out Lips from my fingers, keeps head from arise To quell eager peering about I am a boy But, this night, man become I I and my buddies… Too young, aren’t prepared to die Onto their arms I do grab Keeping...

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~~ Yes, Virginia. There are agnostics and atheists in foxholes. ~~...

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The sergeant volunteered me for guard this cold and moonless night. I was rushed to the front as a new replacement addin' to my plight. I don't even know the sergeant's name and I doubt that he knows mine. The only friend I have is my rifle as I stand guard along the Rhine. The snow keeps pilin' up...

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'Twas just him and his thoughts in that cold and lonely hole, Awaiting the sergeant's dreaded muster to begin the night's patrol. For days the weary soldier had been on the line in bitter battle, 'Midst the deafening roar of cannon and the musket's steady rattle! 'Twas Christmas Eve and he was far from home in Afghanistan. He was barely...

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