Lou J. Klaiber

 Of The Highest Caliber



we wrapped him in field dressings
so wounded badly wounded
propped against a tree staring
mumbling words not meant for me.
"a blue truck....a yellow rose...... 
a field far away.....two crows diving .. 
a red-tailed hawk...an old barn weathered gray."

years have passed into sunsets
long shadows walk beside me
birds whisper verse
the sky becomes an easel
for my eyes painting a memory
of Danny
I paint a blue truck
and a yellow rose
in a field far away.

By Caliber

Old Soldiers

Know they aren't heroes!
Know the fear that burns
from armpits to toes!

Know promises kept.
That Jesus wept!
The courage of brothers
who died for others!

Know...precious is Life.
The love of a Wife.
...and remember the prayer
they made 'over there'!

May stumble a bit
...but they keep it!

The brotherhood shared
with those dead...who cared,
must be honored every day!
To God alone we pray!

"Bless all who served.
Each and every one!
Lord, welcome us home
when the Battle is won!"

 By Caliber


From a truck windshield at sunrise!

Everyman fights his own
in the real heat of battle!
...and then later
behind the forehead
and between the ears
and in the heart
hiding...and finds
a small tear falling
for others and the self.
A small tear remembering
vague history
so very NOW!

Everyman grows old;
yet warriors do not fear
what they have touched
and spoken to!
and hated!

Death no longer feared
is a friend indeed.
One part
of what is

By Caliber


 " Work In Progress "

Against Dark Times 

there was rage
and I stood
weapon held high
against a blood red sky
against god
and all the teachings
of love and
that dead dream.

dead amidst the stench
of napalm burning
friendly flesh.....
nap fire
sent from above.

and while raging
a soft whispering
into the sob of my broken

"stand soldier......
for something larger than yourself!
you will learn the meaning
of the Cross!
and of Love
that can never

By Caliber

...And you did not know him

He was my brother
in Arms
in a war far away
from any real

...and he came home alone
lived alone
a quiet man full of tears
for those gone
fallen soldiers

and he never forgot them
the blood memories
of death
and the whisperings of war
in the silence of night
always lost
to the dreaming
sudden waking
the fright.

....and he grew old
grew weary
drove his truck beneath midnight
toward a full moon
high above a wild river

left no message
no sorrow
just went toward the light
walked over the edge and
rejoined the fight!

By Caliber

Soundless Music

The ancient Bards were warriors,
yet all warriors were not Bards;
...and so on goes the mystery
time unto time.

We learn so slowly,
how difficult to write,
to draw,
to paint upon the invisible canvas
of deep memory.
To hear the message from afar
...of soundless music.
It is not that we should
have a new vision.
we must see with new EYES!

By Caliber