When General Meade met General Lee
At Gettysburg in 1863
Sons of the South battled Northern brothers
And neither side has ever recovered
Fifty-one thousand lives lost in three days
Of a summertime swelter, July haze
Souls rose not to heaven from bodies piled
On blood-soaked battlefields spanning 40 miles
An on-scene photographer moved fallen men
To snap better images with his lens
Hats off to Alex Gardner if you please
Today picture-takers’ cameras freeze
At a large bouldered site called Devil’s Den
Sharpshooter hid, killed unsuspecting men
Travelers at night on Pennsylvania roads
Claim they see soldiers, hear cannons explode
A century after the Revolution
United our states to wage war as one
Virginians were forced to choose blue or gray
Mason Dixon Line divided that way
If only Tom Jefferson’s wise notion
Had not been struck from the Declaration
Slavery, the impetus for war and hate
Would have been quashed before State versus State
Gettysburg might have been a peaceful farm
Where soldiers had never succumbed to harm
But restless spirits, faces pale and gaunt
Never retreat from their Gettysburg haunt
Our nation’s darkest hour plays out each night
And passersby still marvel at the sight
Where sons of the South battled Northern brothers
For neither side will ever recover
As the waves forever kiss the shore
One shot leaves you wanting more
My heart and soul, strong and true
With all the love they hold for you
Sometimes my life leaves me bored
Like a swordsman with no sword
These are the times that I write
Memories can be hard to fight
I write out my heart and soul
Controlling my mind is my goal
Each new word released by my pen
Is another spiritual battle I win
The war rages on day by day
Through the poem prayers I pray
It's a war that I will forever win
Long as there is ink up in my pen
In prison I had quite a collection
Each one held it's own reflection
I saved them after they ran dry
Baptized with the tears I cry
I just couldn't seem to let them go
Little memories of my heart and soul
Sometimes I like to take them out
Little memories of what I'm about
What I'm about angel on my shoulder
Making this world a little less colder
I stood on a hill and screamed for peace...
Lost in the noise were friends that teased...
A mask that hides what's wrong and right...
Too many stones thrown that blinded my sight...
Wolves that prowled with a sheeps face and a devils soul...
Crept slowly in the dark where the truth was never told...
My cape is wrinkled and torn and bloodied from the day...
A battle well fought where being right lost its way...
Then left with a heart with blood still there to drain...
No need to ask the question, I'd do it all over again...
I don't write stories, I don't write make believe... I write what's in Me.... Michael
One Toy Soldier
Little toy soldiers are all put away
Training is over for this time of day.
Where do these little boys go now to play?
Away from their home to die in the fray.
Little toy weapons are no longer there
But boxed in attics by mothers with care--
Where keepsakes still hold a lock of his hair--
While rockets and missles challenge his fare.
Little toy bad guys and little toy good
Haze in the distance when misunderstood.
Where fall the lilies on long crates of wood
And each gave their all--as good soldiers should...
Little toy soldiers are coming back home...
Mothers are weeping, laments all alone
Where flags lie folded--the gift of Shalom...
As the long box is lowered...'neath the loam
One little toy soldier is placed on the top
Remembering All--so that None be Forgot.
Nightmares, jungles, blood on hands
Unjust war in distant lands
Scars that no one else can see
Memories doing battle with his sanity
Off to war, a rich man’s fool
Rich man’s son was off to school
Some came home in boxes, statistics mount
Media smiles announcing body count
Working man’s sons without a voice
Off to war without a choice
Coming home to hate, the fire fanned
Misdirected Anger in his native land
Dismayed with the war, activists groups
Pointing blame at the drafted troops
So many dead through the bloody nights
Protecting rubber trees and oil rights
After the storm, there was no calm
Soldiers coming home from Vietnam.
Dedicate to Vietnam vets who served valiantly,
unappreciated at home
Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's
Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man
What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams
For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you
For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow
Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun
Dad never knew his father. That soldier died in a war.
All Dad heard was brief stories of the man that went before.
Grandma had some pictures and some medals on a wall.
But Dad never knew his father which was what mattered most of all
I’ve done some family history, and seen the ship’s manifest.
I’ve heard again the story of the good ship Lafayette--
How Grandma and her children searched the waves for periscopes,
Knowing that one torpedo could blow away all of their hopes.
This could have been in any war. Soldiers die and families flee.
But this was the family story that was handed down to me.
It started in old England, then to an immigration line:
A 3-year-old at Ellis Island, in July 1939.
They fled their burning country, to be called “war refugees”.
With help from an old uncle and a kind community,
Grandma made a new start here in the land of liberty.
They learned that Grandpa was killed in ‘44 in Italy.
I found online the letter, that my Grandma didn’t see,
About how the Sergeant-Major’s infantry company
Was caught out in the open by Wehrmacht artillery.
The letter said he didn’t suffer. Was he really killed instantly?
I never knew my Grandpa, though I was named after him.
Though I served a different flag, I was a soldier like him.
I’ve seen my father’s scrapbook, and Grandpa’s medals on the wall.
But I never knew my Grandpa which was what mattered most of all.
Its the morning after the night before
As i leave my new wife, whom i lovingly adore
My orders came through, overseas i head
With my band of brothers, not knowing what's ahead
Married for days, whilst conflict takes him away
Holding sheets where we slept, my memory bouquet
At the bottom of our bed, there lies a virgin white rose
With a note beneath i am in momentary froze
I sit and stare as to what it might say
Knowing this is the day my love flies away
My darling Tinks i leave this white rose for you
Its pristine appearance describes my darling so true
It symbolises you, so innocent so pure
With your love in my heart, i will return i assure
Think of the day, from these distant lands from beyond
For the morning after the night before, we will respond
This virgin white rose, so bridal so pure
You and its safety i will secure, for you to return for our future
The day you come home, it shall lay on our bed
And we will continue our lives, as you have always said
I will go about my tomorrow's, thinking of you every day
And prey that this virgin white rose, never turns deathly grey
In ancient times when knights were bold,
They dressed in armor, so we're told.
When they went out to face their foe,
Their armor protected them head to toe.
Christians we must do the same,
Or be struck down by Satan's aim.
His flaming arrows fly all around,
Intending to knock us to the ground.
So put on God's armor without delay,
We need His protection everyday.
For our struggle is not against what we can see,
But the powers of darkness are our enemy.
Stand firm then and dress with all haste,
Start with truth buckled 'round your waist.
Satan fights dirty by spreading lies,
But the belt of God's truth will make us wise.
Next is the Breastplate of Righteousness,
That God provides for all who are His.
It's the righteousness of Christ covering you,
That the evil one cannot stand up to.
Now cover your feet with the readiness of,
Sharing God's gospel of peace and love..
Take the Shield of Faith and keep it near,
To deflect Satan's arrows of confusion and fear.
Place the Helmet of Salvation firmly on your head,
It will keep Satan's lies from filling you with dread.
He wants to make you doubt your salvation is sure,
But the helmet will guard your mind and keep you secure.
Your armor is complete, but now you need a sword,
So take the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of the Lord.
God's Word is sufficient to defend or attack.
With God's Word in your heart you can hold Satan back.
With your armor in place and your Sword in your hand,
Be strong in the Lord and in His power stand.
And pray in the Spirit at all times and all ways,
Cause the enemy trembles when Saints start to pray!
Based on Ephesians 6:10-18
What time is this
Where once we wait
Whilst questions stir up great debate
Upon this place a storm doth brew
Encroaching in on me and you
To make a stand or make a choice
Have a heart and have a voice
Be not thee fooled by lovely lies
Made to keep well in disguise
A truth thus far which few have seen
Veiled behind some wicked scene
Know what we are and why we’re here
Be not thee bound by useless fear
For power lies in focus held
In knowledge found and wisdom felt
Creative thought shall be the key
Unraveling untold mysteries
With hence unknown abilities
Bestowed with light we’ve yet to see
Transform a world of pain and hate
Into grandest dreams create
This time, this place
No more we wait
Through storms of violence, fear and hate
The very catalyst we need
To know the truth which sets us free