My inebriation prevents me from reflecting,
Upon the sacrifices my grandfather made,
When he took up arms against the enemy,
And was forced to kill a fellow human being,
And watched his best friend die,
And didn’t have time to cry.
I’ve sat comfortably in this bar,
Drinking up his freedom,
And never once realizing why,
I am the luckiest man alive.
World war 2 hitler bombs bursting in the air death and turmoil and post tramatic stress and you are terrified and that is a human head laying on the ground and all you can do is run
When I think of veteran, only brave and noble souls are allowed to enter my imagination. The death of some cannot be interfered by the regretting decisions of cowards.
I picture my grandpa Henry hiding in a fox hole, lonely and scared. I picture him regretting his decision to leave the mother of his child and his baby girl.
He had worn the same Korea vet hat near everytime I’d seen him. We always talked and and I never brought it up. Then one day I wanted to bring it up but how you do that when he must know you’ve always seen it. So I decide to be honest. I tell him I want to know about the hat. I ask him if he’s a veteran and I say I’m sorry I never asked sooner but always been wondering. He was honest too. He got real honest.
I see plenty of these coming through my door. Daily. Each one bruised and battered. Each one with a story to tell. Each one with a certain something that you just can’t quite put your finger on.
This was her domain. This was her turf, her ground, her last line to defend. It was her home. She knew how to run the place, no this nameless man, eyeing the walls and the windows like he’s been here before. Running the show was her job, it’s what she excelled at. There was no way he could master the skills as she had and does. She was a veteran, lasting until the end of time.
He was a veteran of hatred. He’d faced it, passed through it, and now stood on the other side. Every now and then, he felt it tugging him back. He kept fighting it.
My grandpa was a veteran. I remember sitting on his lap when i was little. He’d always call me ”his gal” and i will forever be just that; ”his gal”. I stood at his funeral as the trumpets played their last solute and couldnt believe that my time with him had come to an end…..i miss him everyday
When one thinks of ‘veteran’s they think of war. They think of old, wrinkled men in old uniforms speaking of old battles. I am not a war veteran. I am a veteran of my own mind. I have conquered my own battles, ones with myself, warred with my very mind. I have tried and tried again to force myself into happiness, but that isn’t necessary, not anymore.
I’m a veteran of procrastination. almost have this thing down to a science—perfectionist in my own right. the only downfall is that i’ve yet to shake the guilt and anxiety associated with the craft–leaving me less than master—but close.definitely close.
He was a veteran of such situations, have seen combat in many of the bars around town. He had been laughed at, had drinks, and more, thrown in his face, had been slapped, kicked, kneed in the groin, and even thrown through a window by women he had tried to approach, but this time, he knew from the evil grin on her face, it was going to get nasty.
He was a military veteran from the 1960’s. He had 4 children. Stacy was youngest, 18. Next were Zack and Mari, twins, 22. Finally, oldest, Gemma, 25. He was very in love with a woman called Tiffany. He had a dog and a cat and loved fishing in the summer. When he left for war, he left all of this behind. If only he could’ve came back.
A veteran is a person that we should respect. We should also respect cancer patients and how physically and mentally strong they are. We know that they are human beings and they can do the same thing as us, and that they love just as much as we do. Even if some are taught how to live from other cancer patients.
“Sweetie, this church was built by pierogi,” the woman said, never once stopping to raise her eyes. I’d asked how many pierogies she’d made over her lifetime. I glanced around the parish hall. All those dollars spent on dough and cabbage, molded into half-moons by old ladies’ fingers. All for this.
“Sweetie, this church was built by pierogi,” the woman said, never once stopping to raise her eyes. I’d asked how many pierogies she’d made over her lifetime. I glanced around the parish hall. All those dollars spent on dough and cabbage, molded into half-moons by old ladies’ fingers. All for this.
He was a veteran now, the war having seasoned him, and he felt much older. His youth was gone, and in its place was a tyrannical thing called adulthood and maturity. He despised it. He couldn’t even stand the thought of it. What was left? Boringness.
You are a veteran? Really? From how long have you have this job for? How come it seems like you have no experience? Can I talk to your manager? The lady said.
This are just some examples of what employees encounter everytime. Different kinds of people, some are nice, some are ok, some are difficult.
Custumer service. That’s what you have to give them. If you cannot handle them, go to your manager or boss. People don’t think, or mostly customers don’t think of us as persons who could also make mistakes, got tired, have feelings. They just wanted to get on their days doing what they want and/or what they want to get, as in everyday.
Its hard to say thanks to a veteran
I’m in so much awe of their willingess
I can’t say thanks so easily
Cuz if I do I’m in danger
Of losing my cool
Words aren’t enough
To convey the gratitude for what they do
Running. Mud covered their shoes. They tried not to think about everywhere that hurt, but there wasn’t anything else to think about beyond everything to be missed. It was boring. They’d never thought about that when they signed up.
I know you said you would come back for me, that bullets couldn’t stop our love. “You brought me your bullets, I brought you my love”. I always found that line so sad, and it makes me want to hold you tight and tell you everything’s alright. I miss you…
Looking back at the days that have pasted about my starting days off work and my ending days of work have fulfilled my life times duty as a worrier to the world. I’ve filled my time saving and giving my life a dangerous mission for my country and my people. ill never regret it.
You could call him a veteran, Kagami thought, looking towards Kuroko. Teikou had clearly taken it’s toll upon the young boy, and his eyes were dark, lost in thoughts of the past. “Tell me, Kuroko, are you glad you met them?”
Clutching the bouquet of flowers in his hand, Nolan scanned almost every face among the sea of soldiers, searching for Angela. It had been nearly a year since he’d last talked to her, and even longer since he’d held her in his arms. It was strange to say that after ten years on the battlefield, his wife was now a veteran. He couldn’t wait to catch up on all the things she’d missed back home…
“Nolan!” The familiar sweetness of her voice hit his ears and his knees nearly buckled as he ran to her, arms outstretched. She looked a bit older, and an unmoving sadness in her eyes, but as she leapt into his arms and joyous tears escaped, he knew that she was the same girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
The local veterans’ fund was running dry, and former Lieutenant Colonel Hilary Bryson was more than displeased. She waited outside the office of Congressman Jonathan Brown, expecting a very deliberate and very determined discussion with him.
“Congressman Brown has had to step out for some time,” a worker told Bryson, and her nostrils flared.
A veteran from the public administrative office came by today and made his position on an issue known. It was noted.
Veterans of institutions. So many of them are there, I wonder about those of us who seem to be institution-less. Unaffiliated. Or who at least feel that way.
And then I thought of him. The one with the sweet doe eyes and the sunshine smile. A memory that had come to me unbidden. It’d been this way for so long, I don’t know how I kept holding onto hope.
His cap, which was facing squarely forward (none of THAT nonsense) said ‘Vietnam Vet” on it in green letters. His eyes never flickered up to meet mine in the rear view, but he kept chatting in a soft, friendly tone. War has a way of softening older men. His hand, curled over the back of the seat, was soft and fleshy. Uncut nails. “What do you want to be?” he asked.
She was a veteran of concealing her feelings while listening to others go on about theirs, a veteran of caring more for others than she had ever cared for herself, a veteran of suffering silently because she felt she deserved no more, and now she was going to become a veteran of being happy, of holding onto friends and letting go of negativity.
at getting angry, destroying, then wondering wtf happened. Good news is ive figured this phony impostor out and never again will it destroy a relationship, good time, or mood.
My inebriation prevents me from reflecting,
Upon the sacrifices my grandfather made,
When he took up arms against the enemy,
And was forced to kill a fellow human being,
And watched his best friend die,
And didn’t have time to cry.
I’ve sat comfortably in this bar,
Drinking up his freedom,
And never once realizing why,
I am the luckiest man alive.
World war 2 hitler bombs bursting in the air death and turmoil and post tramatic stress and you are terrified and that is a human head laying on the ground and all you can do is run
okay
fgfdgjujh
When I think of veteran, only brave and noble souls are allowed to enter my imagination. The death of some cannot be interfered by the regretting decisions of cowards.
I picture my grandpa Henry hiding in a fox hole, lonely and scared. I picture him regretting his decision to leave the mother of his child and his baby girl.
my grandpa is a veteran. he was in the Vietnam war. He is really messed up about it. He became a
Old and battered, time worn and sage. Life’s experience is all here what describes us when we reach a level that age only provides. Grizzled and wise?
green, hospitals, sick, abandoned, hero, sad, happy, accomplished
Just listen:
He had worn the same Korea vet hat near everytime I’d seen him. We always talked and and I never brought it up. Then one day I wanted to bring it up but how you do that when he must know you’ve always seen it. So I decide to be honest. I tell him I want to know about the hat. I ask him if he’s a veteran and I say I’m sorry I never asked sooner but always been wondering. He was honest too. He got real honest.
I see plenty of these coming through my door. Daily. Each one bruised and battered. Each one with a story to tell. Each one with a certain something that you just can’t quite put your finger on.
His eyes sweep the room speedily, feet shuffling, and arms tense. A battle occurs under her eyelids when she sleeps.
This was her domain. This was her turf, her ground, her last line to defend. It was her home. She knew how to run the place, no this nameless man, eyeing the walls and the windows like he’s been here before. Running the show was her job, it’s what she excelled at. There was no way he could master the skills as she had and does. She was a veteran, lasting until the end of time.
He was a veteran of hatred. He’d faced it, passed through it, and now stood on the other side. Every now and then, he felt it tugging him back. He kept fighting it.
My grandpa was a veteran. I remember sitting on his lap when i was little. He’d always call me ”his gal” and i will forever be just that; ”his gal”. I stood at his funeral as the trumpets played their last solute and couldnt believe that my time with him had come to an end…..i miss him everyday
When one thinks of ‘veteran’s they think of war. They think of old, wrinkled men in old uniforms speaking of old battles. I am not a war veteran. I am a veteran of my own mind. I have conquered my own battles, ones with myself, warred with my very mind. I have tried and tried again to force myself into happiness, but that isn’t necessary, not anymore.
I’ve won.
I’m a veteran of procrastination. almost have this thing down to a science—perfectionist in my own right. the only downfall is that i’ve yet to shake the guilt and anxiety associated with the craft–leaving me less than master—but close.definitely close.
He was a veteran of such situations, have seen combat in many of the bars around town. He had been laughed at, had drinks, and more, thrown in his face, had been slapped, kicked, kneed in the groin, and even thrown through a window by women he had tried to approach, but this time, he knew from the evil grin on her face, it was going to get nasty.
He was a military veteran from the 1960’s. He had 4 children. Stacy was youngest, 18. Next were Zack and Mari, twins, 22. Finally, oldest, Gemma, 25. He was very in love with a woman called Tiffany. He had a dog and a cat and loved fishing in the summer. When he left for war, he left all of this behind. If only he could’ve came back.
My cousin is
hopefully
going to be a veteran
I hope he comes home
okay
A veteran is a person that we should respect. We should also respect cancer patients and how physically and mentally strong they are. We know that they are human beings and they can do the same thing as us, and that they love just as much as we do. Even if some are taught how to live from other cancer patients.
3/25/14
“Sweetie, this church was built by pierogi,” the woman said, never once stopping to raise her eyes. I’d asked how many pierogies she’d made over her lifetime. I glanced around the parish hall. All those dollars spent on dough and cabbage, molded into half-moons by old ladies’ fingers. All for this.
“Sweetie, this church was built by pierogi,” the woman said, never once stopping to raise her eyes. I’d asked how many pierogies she’d made over her lifetime. I glanced around the parish hall. All those dollars spent on dough and cabbage, molded into half-moons by old ladies’ fingers. All for this.
Cool!
He was a veteran now, the war having seasoned him, and he felt much older. His youth was gone, and in its place was a tyrannical thing called adulthood and maturity. He despised it. He couldn’t even stand the thought of it. What was left? Boringness.
You are a veteran? Really? From how long have you have this job for? How come it seems like you have no experience? Can I talk to your manager? The lady said.
This are just some examples of what employees encounter everytime. Different kinds of people, some are nice, some are ok, some are difficult.
Custumer service. That’s what you have to give them. If you cannot handle them, go to your manager or boss. People don’t think, or mostly customers don’t think of us as persons who could also make mistakes, got tired, have feelings. They just wanted to get on their days doing what they want and/or what they want to get, as in everyday.
Its hard to say thanks to a veteran
I’m in so much awe of their willingess
I can’t say thanks so easily
Cuz if I do I’m in danger
Of losing my cool
Words aren’t enough
To convey the gratitude for what they do
Running. Mud covered their shoes. They tried not to think about everywhere that hurt, but there wasn’t anything else to think about beyond everything to be missed. It was boring. They’d never thought about that when they signed up.
I know you said you would come back for me, that bullets couldn’t stop our love. “You brought me your bullets, I brought you my love”. I always found that line so sad, and it makes me want to hold you tight and tell you everything’s alright. I miss you…
As gnarled as an olive branch, and as wily as he was wiry too.
Looking back at the days that have pasted about my starting days off work and my ending days of work have fulfilled my life times duty as a worrier to the world. I’ve filled my time saving and giving my life a dangerous mission for my country and my people. ill never regret it.
You could call him a veteran, Kagami thought, looking towards Kuroko. Teikou had clearly taken it’s toll upon the young boy, and his eyes were dark, lost in thoughts of the past. “Tell me, Kuroko, are you glad you met them?”
Clutching the bouquet of flowers in his hand, Nolan scanned almost every face among the sea of soldiers, searching for Angela. It had been nearly a year since he’d last talked to her, and even longer since he’d held her in his arms. It was strange to say that after ten years on the battlefield, his wife was now a veteran. He couldn’t wait to catch up on all the things she’d missed back home…
“Nolan!” The familiar sweetness of her voice hit his ears and his knees nearly buckled as he ran to her, arms outstretched. She looked a bit older, and an unmoving sadness in her eyes, but as she leapt into his arms and joyous tears escaped, he knew that she was the same girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
The local veterans’ fund was running dry, and former Lieutenant Colonel Hilary Bryson was more than displeased. She waited outside the office of Congressman Jonathan Brown, expecting a very deliberate and very determined discussion with him.
“Congressman Brown has had to step out for some time,” a worker told Bryson, and her nostrils flared.
A veteran from the public administrative office came by today and made his position on an issue known. It was noted.
Veterans of institutions. So many of them are there, I wonder about those of us who seem to be institution-less. Unaffiliated. Or who at least feel that way.
And then I thought of him. The one with the sweet doe eyes and the sunshine smile. A memory that had come to me unbidden. It’d been this way for so long, I don’t know how I kept holding onto hope.
His cap, which was facing squarely forward (none of THAT nonsense) said ‘Vietnam Vet” on it in green letters. His eyes never flickered up to meet mine in the rear view, but he kept chatting in a soft, friendly tone. War has a way of softening older men. His hand, curled over the back of the seat, was soft and fleshy. Uncut nails. “What do you want to be?” he asked.
She was a veteran of concealing her feelings while listening to others go on about theirs, a veteran of caring more for others than she had ever cared for herself, a veteran of suffering silently because she felt she deserved no more, and now she was going to become a veteran of being happy, of holding onto friends and letting go of negativity.
at getting angry, destroying, then wondering wtf happened. Good news is ive figured this phony impostor out and never again will it destroy a relationship, good time, or mood.
veteran is a word
my mind is going blank
I can’t think of anything
red panda
roses are red
violets are blue
the bible 2:
electric boogaloo
Someone who has been in military or a veteran could be in many different thing that they have done from way back when.