Mangroves
Star gazing while in the bush
Could be life threating or
Life limiting, so stop and
Pay attention lest Charlie
Moves in next to you.
It wasn’t long ago that
Three men were lost
And one was point man so
When you move among the mangroves
Its likely you’re not alone
But when you do move
In amongst the mangrove
Lethal substances move too
Take care boy ‘cause there’s
Crocks, mosquitoes, leaches,
Snakes, bats, eels, and VC
The Nam
Dances on tip toes
Through the bamboo jungle
And musty earthy smell
Darkness is your friend but
Charlie shares the night
Beware the dawn.
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
In the Provinces
The smell of the earth
The jungle floor
Humid, sweet and sour
The canopy shuts off the light
Sunlight rarely touches the ground
Creepie crawlies thrive
Crawl and slither
Vegetation so green
And the air so heavy
Suffocating
Amid it all
8 and 10 year olds
Run footpaths and trails
At home monkeys on a chain
Early afternoon
After a rice bowl
Tepid beer and rice crackers
Another rain shower
Rain on a tin roof
The VC move in, in the dark
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
You don’t know humiliation until
You’re yelled at and all you can say is “Yes Sir”
You’ve never been abashed and degraded until
You’ve spit on
You’ve never felt a surge of anger until
These things (and probably several more) have happened
That anger is blinding and all senses are suspended
The only thought is retaliation and to set things right
I’ve experienced these things
The humiliation was in 3rd grade
With half of the walk completed
Soiling one’s pants with no alternative but to trudge on home
That’s humiliation
After spending 14 months
In a sweltering, stinking, bug infested jungle
On a return trip home San Francisco
Was a disembarking point from South East Asia
Only to be greeted with hostility
By our own people, yelling and spitting on us
The bile rose in our throats
The bitterness and anger were almost uncontrollable
We served because we were asked
Or told to serve
This was not a ticket to Disneyland
This wasn’t a pleasure jaunt
It was a bit of hell
But the real hell was the “welcoming at home”
We didn’t necessarily agree or support the war
But we went in any event
Once back and in our “civies”
We could join and protest
All we wanted
But most were so put off
By our homecoming
We avoided any direct involvement
I think the closes we got was a beer
And a protest song in a bar
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Life Goes On
A hooch above
Children below
Monkey chained to a beam
Geese in front
To announce visitors
Wood and charcoal fires
Some cooking some just smoking
And then the beauty
Of jasmine scent and flowers bloom
A curried fish meal
With rice and green tea
Old women chew betel nuts
Leaving telltale red mouth
Adjacent rice fields
Water buffalo work
Foot paths abound leading to roads
Men, women, and coolie hats
A sudden rainstorm
A brook becomes a stream
With fish in the roadside gutters
The VC are coming
Life goes on
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Star gazing while in the bush
Could be life threating or
Life limiting, so stop and
Pay attention lest Charlie
Moves in next to you.
It wasn’t long ago that
Three men were lost
And one was point man so
When you move among the mangroves
Its likely you’re not alone
But when you do move
In amongst the mangrove
Lethal substances move too
Take care boy ‘cause there’s
Crocks, mosquitoes, leaches,
Snakes, bats, eels, and VC
The Nam
Dances on tip toes
Through the bamboo jungle
And musty earthy smell
Darkness is your friend but
Charlie shares the night
Beware the dawn.
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
In the Provinces
The smell of the earth
The jungle floor
Humid, sweet and sour
The canopy shuts off the light
Sunlight rarely touches the ground
Creepie crawlies thrive
Crawl and slither
Vegetation so green
And the air so heavy
Suffocating
Amid it all
8 and 10 year olds
Run footpaths and trails
At home monkeys on a chain
Early afternoon
After a rice bowl
Tepid beer and rice crackers
Another rain shower
Rain on a tin roof
The VC move in, in the dark
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
You don’t know humiliation until
You’re yelled at and all you can say is “Yes Sir”
You’ve never been abashed and degraded until
You’ve spit on
You’ve never felt a surge of anger until
These things (and probably several more) have happened
That anger is blinding and all senses are suspended
The only thought is retaliation and to set things right
I’ve experienced these things
The humiliation was in 3rd grade
With half of the walk completed
Soiling one’s pants with no alternative but to trudge on home
That’s humiliation
After spending 14 months
In a sweltering, stinking, bug infested jungle
On a return trip home San Francisco
Was a disembarking point from South East Asia
Only to be greeted with hostility
By our own people, yelling and spitting on us
The bile rose in our throats
The bitterness and anger were almost uncontrollable
We served because we were asked
Or told to serve
This was not a ticket to Disneyland
This wasn’t a pleasure jaunt
It was a bit of hell
But the real hell was the “welcoming at home”
We didn’t necessarily agree or support the war
But we went in any event
Once back and in our “civies”
We could join and protest
All we wanted
But most were so put off
By our homecoming
We avoided any direct involvement
I think the closes we got was a beer
And a protest song in a bar
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Life Goes On
A hooch above
Children below
Monkey chained to a beam
Geese in front
To announce visitors
Wood and charcoal fires
Some cooking some just smoking
And then the beauty
Of jasmine scent and flowers bloom
A curried fish meal
With rice and green tea
Old women chew betel nuts
Leaving telltale red mouth
Adjacent rice fields
Water buffalo work
Foot paths abound leading to roads
Men, women, and coolie hats
A sudden rainstorm
A brook becomes a stream
With fish in the roadside gutters
The VC are coming
Life goes on
by Contributing Poet Philippe R. Hebert Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 First published in 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Philippe R. Hebert is an upstart poet of 79 years who thirsts for more knowledge in this art
form. A multi-lingual/multi-cultural (English, Spanish, and French) consultant in
domestic and international manufacturing and supply chain with over half his experience
being off shore (now retired). Served in the Air Force SOG unit (1962 to 1968) attached
to TAC and ADC as part of Rolling Thunder.
form. A multi-lingual/multi-cultural (English, Spanish, and French) consultant in
domestic and international manufacturing and supply chain with over half his experience
being off shore (now retired). Served in the Air Force SOG unit (1962 to 1968) attached
to TAC and ADC as part of Rolling Thunder.
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