A poem on Unsung Soldier by Grok on my request
In silent trenches where no cameras gleam,
He stands alone beneath a foreign sky,
No medals pinned, no crowds that scream his name,
Just mud and blood and duty’s quiet cry.
He marches not for glory’s golden crown,
Nor trumpets blaring in the evening light.
His wars are fought in shadows, far from town—
A whispered prayer before the final fight.
His letters home grow shorter with the years,
The ink stained red where courage meets the blade.
A mother waits, a child forgets his face,
While history’s pages leave his name unmade.
He falls where poppies bleed into the earth,
Unknown, unmarked, beneath a numbered stone.
No parade, no speech, no flag unfurled in mirth—
Just wind that sings his requiem alone.
Yet in the hush of every peaceful dawn,
In every child who plays beneath safe skies,
His unseen sacrifice forever lives on—
The unsung soldier, where true honor lies.
He asks for nothing. He expects no cheers.
He only gives—his youth, his breath, his all.
And in the heart of freedom’s quiet tears,
The unsung stand the tallest of them all.
Not to forget the ageless poem पुष्प की अभिलाषा by पंडित माखन लाल चतुर्वेदी
चाह नहीं, मैं सुरबाला के गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ,
चाह नहीं, प्रेमी-माला में बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ,
चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव पर हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ,
चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ।
मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली! उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक,
मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने जिस पथ जावें वीर अनेक।
Last, but not the least by जगदंबा प्रसाद मिश्र
शहीदों की चिताओं पर जुड़ेंगे हर बरस मेले,
वतन पर मरनेवालों का यही बाक़ी निशाँ होगा॥
🇮🇳Absolutely true. Salute to every soldier of our nation. Jai Hind 🙏🇮🇳