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An Early Poem Dedicated To My Dad... - Poetry Group

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Well my dad was in Iraq back in 08' (now he's in Kuwait) So one day one of my teacher's told our class that since he's the head of the Muse, he'll give extra credit to anyone who submits something to the Muse magazine. So really I was just in dire need of extra credit points, so I went and cooked up some little poem that was originally called "The Similarities of Our Differences" and time and time again I kept coming back to that poem until it was just a few days before the submission deadline. Personally I thought it was great in the sense that a Father's son wrote something like the poem I did, but in a contest sense (i.e. the Muse) I didn't really think it was really worth a spot in the Magazine. But sure enough, not only was my poem selected to be in the Muse, but it was also the very first submission in the Magazine (more like a book, but eh, details details.)

So since he's over in the MIddle East again for the 2nd (and hopefully last) time, I thought I'd post it again here. I might end up posting some more personal poems but for right now, I guess this'll just do for now.

For me, writing poetry isn't exactly something I'm looking at making a living off of. It's more of a tool to help me express my true feelings and to let out my frustrations so I tend to be pretty modest about my poems and I don't hold them in high regards. Just because I'm modest though doesn't mean that I don't like criticism! So yeah, hope you enjoy these few stanzas I have to offer.

God of War

I phone a friend,
That lives ten miles away.
He phones his family,
Ten thousand miles away.

I email photos of myself,
With a haircut and new clothes.
He emails me a photo,
With hair and uniform in the desert wind that blows.

I spend a dollar-eighty,
For a ten minute phone call.
He spends up to a week,
For a ten minute call.

I complain about the food,
To buy, what a pain it is.
He complains about the food,
How dry and plain it is.

I wake up at 6:00am,
To walk a mile to school.
He wakes up at 11:00pm,
To run around the motor pool.

I complain about the 60 degree weather,
Sitting under the shady noon.
He complains about the 110 degree weather,
Sitting in the middle of the dunes.

I scream at the monitor,
As I get killed in God of War.
He screams at the man in front,
Who got killed in the fog of war.


there is a bit of irony all through out your poem. it is mostly lovely yet sad. the sad part ( having been a reservist with actve duty buddies ) is that the guy you dad screamed at was probably spmebody elses dad. but it is a beautiful poem.

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