Wednesday, 20 August 2008
 

I was there
Contributed by Bill Faith

I was there
Bob Prinselaar

I look at my ribbons
Yep, I was there
No fancy awards
But, yep I was there

I just did my job
No hero for sure
I stood by my buddies
and learned to endure

I watched new guys come
I watched new guys go
They just weren't ready
They just didn't know

Each day was a milestone
I asked for one more
Or maybe a week
To add to my score

Now I'm a civilian
No troubles or care
But I look at my ribbons
Yep, I was there.

Contributed by Bill Faith on August 20, 2008 at 12:45 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Friday, 11 July 2008
 

If I die before you wake (Updated and bumped)
Contributed by Bill Faith

[Originally posted 2007-04-12]

Bob Prinselaar emails:

This will touch your heart. Sure brought back some memories.

http://www.flashdemo.net/gallery/wake/index.htm

Bob

***

Retried grunt and Blue Star Father Jim Gardner dropped by to let me know that If I Die Before You Wake was recorded by Dustin Evans, who unfortunately is not given credit at the link Bob sent. In the process of cross-checking that info I ran across this YouTube video which I know you'll enjoy:

Contributed by Bill Faith on July 11, 2008 at 12:14 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Caring about our troops, The American Warrior | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBack

Monday, 27 August 2007
 

Tears Of Ink
Contributed by Bill Faith

Email from frequent Old War Dogs contributor Roberto Prinselaar (USN 1948-1957, USCG 1967-1989). I added the Amazon link.:

xxxx
xxx		xxx
xxxx

Bill,

My new book “Tears Of Ink” has been published, and is available at www.amazon.com. The book is a compilation of all of my military poems plus some writings. One of the counselors at the Vet Center in Las Vegas urged me to publish, and my wife assisted in getting everything ready for the publisher. I can’t take any of the profits from the sale of the book because I firmly believe that my being able to write what I did was a gift from God, so I’m donating all of the profits to our local chapter #961 of the Viet Nam Veterans of America. They just got started and need help.

Bob Prinselaar

Seriously, folks, this is one you really need a copy of. Check out Bob's Old War Dogs contributions here and his IWVPA page here.

Tears of Ink
Bob Prinselaar

My tears of ink flow down my pen
A torrent of what’s inside of me
My feelings in a tale
The words all come from deep within
Old memories just come tumbling out
As I pull aside the veil
Some memories darker than the ink
And I fight to keep them down
My hand grips hard the pen
Why am I cursed with all my thoughts
Of things that happened long ago
And of men I knew back then
So now I write to ease the pain
And I cry inside to form the ink
And let it flow to write
But ink will never be the same
And I will never find my peace
Till real tears blur my sight

Contributed by Bill Faith on August 27, 2007 at 06:01 PM in Bob Prinselaar, Books, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Monday, 12 March 2007
 

And now I wish I knew you then ...
Contributed by Bill Faith

I Wish I Knew Your Name
Roberto J. Prinselaar

I knew you once upon a time
Like I knew many more
I think I knew your last name
Before I learned the score

You worked and slept alongside of me
A member of the crew
Not knowing you would soon be gone
Your life would soon be through

You did your duty on the gun
You were good at what you did
No one would think by watching you
That you were just a kid

I really don't know what it was
That hit you that day
No time to stop, we carried on
No one knew what to say

Your place was filled by another kid
Who looked about the same
And now I wish I knew you then
I wish I knew your name

Contributed by Bill Faith on March 12, 2007 at 01:42 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry, The American Warrior, US Navy | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Tuesday, 27 February 2007
 

Living and dying all over again
Contributed by Bill Faith

The Bullet
Bob Prinselaar

The bullet was fired, not into space but into time
Instead of lead and brass, the bullet was made up of many things
Of pain, and gut wrenching grief
Of hatred and rage so fierce, it glowed
Of lost friends and buddies and guys you barely knew
Of fear so bad you made your own midnight movies
But hid so well
But mostly of memories which were unwanted
And smells that came from hell

When the bullet was fired it was outgoing and therefore good
But because it went into time it changed over the years
And even though it was mostly forgotten
It was still in flight, and as a comet it turned
Even though misted by time
It became incoming with no place to hide

The bullet came and pierced my soul
I had bunkered my life, my defenses were strong
So I thought
Then the layers of shell all fell away, and I was caught naked
And it started again
All the crap in the bullet was with me again
And now
I’m living and dying
All over again

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 27, 2007 at 12:34 PM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Saturday, 17 February 2007
 

... and watch the stars through bamboo bars
Contributed by Bill Faith

Bamboo Bars
Bob Prinselaar

When I was young and life was fun
I used to jump and play and run
Then I grew older, thought of cars
But never once of bamboo bars
I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen
To graduate my biggest dream
I’d reach far out beyond the stars
But never thought of bamboo bars
I thought my life was far too tame
And overseas there burned a flame
So off I went to do my thing
Not knowing all the hurt ‘twould bring
And now I’m left with only scars
And watch the stars through bamboo bars

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 17, 2007 at 01:35 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Friday, 16 February 2007
 

The Dem Defense Plan
Contributed by Bill Faith

Bob Prinselaar emails:

Due to the Democratic controlled Congress making some military cutbacks, the following actions will take place. These pictures demonstrate some of the changes to come.    

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 16, 2007 at 01:41 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Dem Dumbness | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Thursday, 15 February 2007
 

But when "Boats" left us forever ...
Contributed by Bill Faith

BOATS
LCDR Bob Prinselaar, USCG(Ret.)

He was one hell of a sailor
A Boatswains Mate all the way through
Crossed hooks on the sleeve of his jumper
the job real men chose to do

In a storm with all hatches battened
He was topside to see all was secure
He double checked all of the tiedowns
then again~just to make sure

You might say he had just one failing
he really liked wearing his whites
He was one sharp looking sailor
on a liberty and seeing the sights

But at sea, when we sailed into battle
dungarees is what we all wore
And if you were killed in the battle
you'd never wear whites anymore

In his case we made an exception
when his life was ended one day
We made sure he was properly dressed
he was special, what more can you say

The crew all stood by the railing
and the Skipper had a few words to say
We saluted and stood at attention
when his body was tilted away

No more G.Q.'s he would answer
no more bloody battles and fights
But when "Boats" left us forever
by GOD, he was wearing his whites.

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 15, 2007 at 03:02 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Tuesday, 13 February 2007
 

... and not just names in stone
Contributed by Bill Faith

THE MEMORIAL

We tried, we tried, Oh God we tried
So we could be here too
And walk around remembering
And look for names we knew

Our lives were lost so far away
Upon a distant shore
But we are here in memory
As you read our names once more

Remember us, Remember us
Although we're truly gone
Remember us, as we once were
And not just names in stone.

©Copyright circa 2001 by Roberto J. Prinselaar

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 13, 2007 at 01:16 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Caring about our troops, Gathering of Eagles, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Sunday, 11 February 2007
 

... but sometimes God, I’m so alone
Contributed by Bill Faith

I’m O.K.
Bob Prinselaar

I’ll admit I’m slightly troubled
And there are times I’m downright sad
When I think back on things that happened
And some of those were really bad

But I’m O.K., I tell you truly
I’m alive, and that’s a lot
I’m better off than some old buddies
Yeah I’m alive, and they are not

There are times I dream about them
But mostly now, I only sleep
I’m telling you I’m doing fine now
Why should I think ‘bout things so deep

I never cry, cause that’s not manly
It’s not the way that I was taught
And what the hell, it’s all behind me
I’ve put aside just why we fought

I can’t remember all the reasons
There had to be some, I suppose
I do remember, for God and country
But it was more than only those

I lost some friends, for lofty reasons
And now they are forever gone
But I’m O.K., yeah I’m still living
But sometimes God, I’m so alone

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 11, 2007 at 04:58 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Friday, 09 February 2007
 

... and meeting dead friends face to face
Contributed by Bill Faith

From my newest e-friend, Bob Prinselaar. This isn't the only one he sent but I'll keep you waiting for the others.

MEDALS
Bob Prinselaar

Don’t envy a man his medals
All those ribbons on his chest
He did not try to get them
They’re not there at his request

They were earned in stinking hell holes
Where no man would like to go
Or in cold and wintry places
Where there’s only ice and snow

He did not know he earned them
Till they were awarded at parade
And they were bright when he first got them
But in time the colors fade

He was told he had to wear them
And to wear them all with pride
But when the memories come to haunt him
Those same medals make him hide

Cause those medals will not bring back
All those guys he left behind
And he would trade them all forever
For a little peace of mind

So don’t envy a man his medals
You don’t want to take his place
Thinking back to long gone battles
And meeting dead friends face to face   

Contributed by Bill Faith on February 9, 2007 at 12:37 AM in Bob Prinselaar, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack