October 2, 2009
The Enlisted Man
I fought in every battle
I forged our history
With my wounds, I signed in blood
Our freedom guarantee
I stood with General Washington
Faced the winter and starvation
My spirit and undying will
Claimed for us, a nation
I marched proudly into Gettysburg
A battle like no other
Charging into blazing rifles
Felled by my brother
With the birth of aviation
I was among the first to fly
Overcoming great adversity
I helped command the sky
I fought the wars in Europe
And Korea, Vietnam
I died at the hands of terrorists
And pushed back Saddam
I follow without question
The orders of command
Though often their necessity
I do not understand
I wear the Medal of Honor
For action without thought
Often paying with my life
The lives of friends I bought
I’m the one who stood the watches
The one who dug latrines
I took care of my buddy
As a matter of routine
I’m the backbone of our service
I did more with less
I kept the mission going
With innovation and finesse
I stand a quiet vigil
Making very few demands
Officers prize my respect
I am the enlisted man
Copyright © 2000 by Jake Olden Shy
March 21, 2009
Pickett’s Charge
Across a mile of open field
To the circle of trees beyond
Lee’s ill-fated operation
To death the men respond
General Pickett is the man selected
To lead this massive attack
With electric confidence he is certain
The Union lines he’ll crack
Thirteen thousand massed atop
The Seminary Ridge
Abreast the men begin to march
The long distance to abridge
Union soldiers dug-in deep
Watch the men approach
Nine brigades at route step march
Cannons answer the encroach
Canister replaced the solid shot
As Confederate soldiers near
Iron balls ripped through the lines
The battle raged austere
The march now becomes a run
Men charge with a Rebel Yell
Union muskets open fire
The advance is soon repelled
One commander made the breech
At a place now called the Angle
Lo Armistead broke through the line
Overwhelmed his effort strangled
For a brief tremendous moment
The Confederate colors flew
With Armistead’s men killed or captured
The remaining soon withdrew
Lee could not believe his eyes
Has God turned his face away?
Eight thousand men he’d sent to die
On that fateful day
Still, one man will be remembered
For the orders he discharged
The failure high upon the ridge
Will be known as Pickett’s Charge
Copyright © 2000 by Jake Olden Shy
July 13, 2008
The Stand
In Djakovica Yugoslavia
Death their hate ignites
Ascending on suburbia
The demon strike as kraits
Serbian police even the score
Move methodically place to place
A terrified man opens a door
Takes a bullet in the face
Gunfire shatters glass next door
Neighbors soon to die
The screaming pain one can’t ignore
The children wail and cry
Upon the next store police descend
The Xhosa family hide
A small Serb woman to defend
Her frightened friends inside
Pounding fists and crowbar creak
They break into the store
Not a sound the Xhosa’s speak
As Branka moves to the door
The Xhosa family stand aghast
The door now opened wide
The soldiers’ hatred in contrast
By this woman they’re defied
A fragile hand in crushing grasp
A muzzle to her head
Through clenched teeth, an angered rasp
Her life held by a thread
A soldier screams, “You don’t belong here!”
But she would not let them pass
As Branka held on to her fear
The soldiers left en masse
The door hangs on a single hinge
The slam they couldn’t miss
The feme exclaims, her voice a challenge
“Who will pay for this?!”
They simply didn’t know what to make
Of this gap-tooth guardian angel
Her resolution would not break
Their killing heart she strangled
Now, fighting done, a brand new day
The sound of receding combat
The question the Albanians pray
“How do we forgive all that?”
Copyright © 1999 by Jake Olden Shy
Note: This poem is the true story of a old, frail Serbian woman who stood alone against soldiers in their march toward Albanian genocide.
On Shakespeare
O wonderful Muse, drama’s progenitor
Exploring the world ‘tween pretense and truth
Through beautiful verse in iambic pentameter
The wisdom of age, the exuberance of youth
Imagine the days it all began
The Mermaid Tavern, the London fog
Will and Ben making jokes off-hand
Saw comedy born over pints of grog
With Chamberlain’s Men Will got his start
For fifteen years he did reside
With Ben and John he played his part
Success to come in stride
The Globe was built in ninety-nine
Will’s greatest plays upon the gyre
A Court appointment was condign
For King James they did inspire
A force within the Renaissance
The history, comedy, tragedy
Has garnered scholars consonance
And the unenlightened, accidie
What became of the great Thespian?
The reward of his work sublime
The words of Ben, quotidian…
“…not of an age, but for all time”
Copyright © 1999 by Jake Olden Shy
