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Viet Nam

The pungent smell of burning flesh as bodies lay unwanted; amidst a pool of crimson mud, emotions to be taunted.

How zealously they stood in line; for government and kin. How in the end we shut our eyes and wouldn’t let them in.

In school we sat, yet were not taught the reason for it all. Why the neighbor left to fight a war based on politics, not call.

And now we say we’re sorry though for long the seas were calm. I’ll never really understand that war called Viet Nam.
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Submitted by gcicio on May 04, 2020

Modified by gcicio

27 sec read

Gregory Cicio

I was born in Washington D.C. and raised in Brooklyn, NY. The son of a long line of entertainers whose collective accomplishments have included: (Mom-Miriam Cicio/a.k.a.Toni Price)Musical radio programs in D.C. (Father-Phil Cicio/a.k.a. Phil Ott-Zu Fara) Participation in the creation of the American Guild of Variety Artists Grandfather Leon Dashoff Participation in the creation of the "Little Symphony Orchestra of Washington D.C." which later became part of the National Symphony orchestra (Grandfather- Leon Dashoff) As a descendant of Walt Whitman, (via Grandmother Charlotte Whitman) writing has always been in his blood. Greg Cicio has written and co-produced the contemporary Christian music album “Desires of Kings” and has written numerous business/professional materials. "Seed of the Dogwood" is my first novel. more…

All Gregory Cicio poems | Gregory Cicio Books

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    "Viet Nam" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 28 May 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/53350/viet-nam>.

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