My father is a hero.
He stands so tall and proud.
His hands are firm, But gentle.
He stands out in a crowd.
People stop to Thank him.
For Freedom he does fight.
My father is a Soldier.
But he's my Dad at night!
Copyright © christie mills | Year Posted 2007
(Innuendo -- Pigs)
All around are sticks and stone
Feel God's loving arms around you
-----At last, I am redeemed-----
A feast of my soul, you shall receive
A cake for dinner, I made out of stones
Ratchet pigs fill their dirty mouths,
Consuming my soul, sipping on champagne
At peace with myself, brushing off the walls
Nevertheless, tonight they speak in tongues
-I strain my ears to listen;
While pettitoes approach my page
I hear the squeals, I hear the chit chat
from he/she that wears no shame.
Am I she, the evil one?
The one you penned -
Under the influence of manipulation
Trying to stifle my voice of beauty
No matter, I am crazy, a dreamer
Never claim to be THE INNOCENT,
The Poet Destroyer!!!
I ignore the walls when they speak
Nevertheless, tonight they have eyes
They watch my every move
A trotters dance, of togetherness
Forgetting the reason we are here
I will win and conquer my privacy
You can't destroy what you can't see
I am the glory of my day
I am God's pet!!!
A Lamb, wearing white
To others a wolf in disguise
Spitting slithers, swear
I am the Devil's Advocate
I marvel how they snort at night
Today I will crash the sore whispering party
You! My friend, no longer exist
You are naught more than cobwebs
You will dream about me, write about me
I will give you ammo, then read it from you.
I will show you what a demon is!
Like the light and envy of every moon
I shall ask my reflection and remove
the residue from hogging lips.
I will watch you urbane the truth
The heat and lust I conquer from you
A font with no reflection, dating apples
Heading away from its own advice
A hard task from its quill, enjoying leftovers
Pinpointing fingers among shallow dreams
It's sickening to see pigs pat each others back
Feeding on my demonic words
Convoying innuendos in my bearing
Now it's my turn, to turn the roaster on
With no interest in removing muddy sheets
I shall smile and walk away
In - joy - my heart beats and smiles
Knowing, I made you look --- AGAIN!!!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die,
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown,
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.
Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.
O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.
And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?
You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.
My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.
Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.
Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.
My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.
Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.
It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
You would assume I am thirsty in this dire heat,
Or that my needles would cause others to quickly retreat,
You would conclude that my flowers were only for show
Or that if someone didn’t water me I would never grow,
But what you don’t see in plain eye sight
Is that I am flourishing with waters of integrity and might,
Under these thorns you call choked up defenses
Breeds the strength to survive all forms and pretenses,
To you I require little maintenance… but I know better,
I know how to absorb all I need in good and bad weather,
For I was strategically placed in this atmosphere,
All I need dwells in my structure enabling me to stay clear
Of beasts that lurk when sandstorms arise,
When mirages start to mesmerize,
When signs and wonders appear in fallen skies,
And soldiers forget to break ancient soul ties,
I stand my post and flaunt my spikes,
A cactus heart survives all flights.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written: In a Very dry Place
Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2012
I took my arm i wore my shield
Got Sown in the unknown field
In the name of peace we stand
Playing a role we do not understand
Anthems of the flock ringing in my ears
They all do not know but have been told
Noise of agony filled my hearing
Scenes of doom tore my being
I see visions of my abandoned home
O son will i ever see you grown?
Pulled back for an instant..
Keep on marching before they get you whining
Brothers in arms were we?!
Friendly fire got me..
Copyright © Mohamed Sarar | Year Posted 2014
The physical pain ,
is not enough to drain,
I'm a law abiding citizen
ready to relax
fire lights ,ignite
echo , wind claps
lightning flashes across water
animals fly across sand ,
flames get hotter ,
wave ,water ,
glass shatters, break,
straight forward ,
life , no mistake ,
I hunt threw the eye's ,
as I create ,analyze fate,
dragon in the cloud breathing fire
threw your gates ,
Flintstones head shot
sleeping bedrock ,
50 / 50 split
sure why not ,
hallow ,empty a clip,
living long ,lasting
E A !
It's in the game
Copyright © Paul Anthony Young | Year Posted 2013
SOLDIER OF BATTLES.. Steve Hudson
It started, in silence, in infancy; the eyes look beyond the darkness
To understand the sounds of rage, echoes of misunderstanding,
The beginnings of normalcy wrought with disturbance,
Bereavement for the loss of innocence and the first lesson learned.
The lines in ground becoming clearer.
The only thing that ever came easy for me is warring,
Not because I chose the ground, but because it chose me.
Here is your sword; here is your battle,
The field is endless and there is no turning back,
So find your heart and find your place among the ranks
You sojourn with.
You tell one another it will be okay, and that we will pull through,
But no one really knows.
Its only after our first encounter and mortal blow that we find some
Courage to face another foe.
The welcomed peace endured for a season, then skies darken
On eminent splayed horizons and shadowy realms of spirit
You try to make sense of the next wave of terror,
Taunted and vexed at every turn.
Your enemies take form in shapes of, what is true?
Wrestling, pondering among bloody concepts and the why.
Wounds received through fearful encounters take shape of scars,
Scars take shape of trusted moments carried through
Onslaughts of deception.
Fallen men on smoldering ground, tormented by hounds of confusion.
This is how it started, but not how it ended for you see,
There was One we found in heated skirmish
Battle hardened and sure footed, the spear and shield wielded
With skillful hands, He inspired confidence in us all.
On days we found respite, He sat with us and taught strategies in warfare,
The secrets to winning the hearts and minds of defeated bretheren.
The certainty and comfort in His eyes, told stories of ancient victories held.
A kingly stature though plain to view, never considered Himself better
Then the lowliest man I knew.
We asked about some of the scars He brandished,
“They are scars received from the greatest of man’s struggles,” He said,
He got them while defending the poorest of souls.
It was then we understood, it was of us He spoke.
So now we gladly fight for this One who became the captain of our heart,
We’ve learned from the truths that have pierced our very souls,
our greatest cause and reason to be.
A soldier of battles was He…
Copyright © Angel fire | Year Posted 2012
HAVE YOU EVER PLACED
BEFORE YOUR FACE
THEN SAID GRACE
THAT YOU CAN EVEN PLACE
AND SEE YOUR HAND BEFORE
(These words are dedicated to our veterans
who have fought in foreign wars to keep us free
who can't do that simple thing)
Copyright © Dennis Davis | Year Posted 2014
SAPPHO'S SISTERS Song of Ulysess
is this Sappho to whom i speak
the bride of lesbos with the low forbidden voice
who climbs the rocky mountains’ dangerous peak?
call in the blue daughters of twilight to rejoice
in the bursting spring.
war weary are my men--- far from familiar arms of home.
she , obliging, twirls her tantalizing songs and lyre--
lights my camping soldiers with the fire
of her bold call-- vibrates them with darkness of unknown desires
but she, unknown to me, orchestrates a horrid tune of tragedy unforeseen.
sirens of her sisters , assisting, yearn--
ablaze in fragrant beauty unmanly to resist--
the lyre of Sappho spins the tune that turns the doom of noble heads
the most valiant heroes desert their posts-- slaves to lush open arms that hold them ‘til they burn.
Victoria Anderson Throop ©
(rewrite from 2012)
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013
Hardened by indecision
True conviction's at odd
Recompense beyond belief
Some-time's it get's
To play the part
From death do us part
From the truth until the
Dawn morning early light
In the heat of the night
We wrangle with the Devil
To win the fight
Treed by disease
With pain and strief
We vowel to move on
Fore we are vested
For this very life
Fore they killed our
Our only Son
His name was Christ
For this ye must pay
We travel there where thou'
Art not travel
Where evil may be
As wide as the mountain
But, as deep as the sea
Thee repave's of tragedy
Our Legion's are many
Heveanly hath no furry
Well, we have got plenty
We must submit to the Will
The Will to be free
That thou shall be done
On Earth for eternalty
Our legion's are one
To the commitment of
His new kingdom of one
Proclaimed to be
Under the jurisdiction
Of the Lord and His Holy Son
Till the brink of eternity
In the name of the Lord
And the Holy One
Till such that day
That the Kingdom has come
In the name of the Father
And the Holy Ghost
The Lord beseech you too....meet you at the Rapture...let it define you...
Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011
From: Governor Silva, Lucias Flavius
To: Commander, Legio X "Fretensis"
The Judean slaves finally finished the assault ramp.
Order the centurions to roust the legionnaires from each camp.
Give each of your legionnaires extra water and a double ration,
Then assemble the squares and set them in motion.
The last of the defenders are cowering behind the wall.
Well before nightfall, I should expect Masada fortress to fall.
Among Eleazar Ben Yair's Zealots are Sicarii assassins,
So ensure that each prisoner taken is searched for hidden weapons.
Capture as many as you can of them to be sold for slaves;
But toss all their dead off the cliffs--don't bother digging graves.
It may still be awhile before the Tenth Legions rotates back home;
When that day comes, I'm sure Vespasian will honor you all before Rome.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
For how long, have you won the fight
And how wrong, has your life been white
For no song, can bring down your height
Your moves gone, as you lose hope at night
I remember, when you left me to die
Mid December, when the kids were so high
I was an ember, of the movement to fly
You clan member, searching for the dark one to die
Now feel, my wrath as for you I do come
With steel, from the dark side of the dumb
Its not real, you scream sucking your thumb
As you kneel, beggin forgiveness of your slum
And now heed, as my sword enters deep
Your soul feeds, off my pain so discreet
As you bleed, your heart does skip a beat
For you plead, for your life to end with speed
I laugh, as you die now with ease
On behalf, of the ones who cant squeeze
I draw a graph, of your way down to the trees
With no staff, no help now as you freeze
Copyright © Penn Kname | Year Posted 2006
I can use the letter s with so many s words,
I am the seventh sign supreme soldier from the reservation suburbs,
I fly like seagull in the open ocean sky supreme like an serpant eagle eating birds,
I am so solid Im siked and sipped up from the sizzy sizzurp,
I stagger until I swerve swiftly as snake in the souless society lost curbs,
life so crooked it stained with soaked blood life around death curves,
I cant believe so many lost soveriegn souls *****on they own siblings as the culture turns,
I know I am sure of being sure of what I sought to learn,
The brain with suicide can sometimes burn.
Souless savage in society I be among little certain satans, lost in circles saying "7th Sign Empire Engraving"like my own still souls of savage culture on certain colors discriminating,
But whats even worse is soul on souls hating,
Society severed in broken circles still forsaken,
Serpants searching society split in seven different groups of seven hundred seventy-two,
Forsake my Se7en and I forsake thee seven times seven fold because truth be said Im souless to you,
Se7enth Sign Supreme Solid Serene Soldier of of the sacred seven,
I say I have always said society on my word S
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
my friend scrolling
all I'm ever doings searching
upon the nets of mother spider - tis the nature of the beast
with sharper teeth a bigger mouth-without famine is no feast
For I once had known a leper who was eaten by leopard
Now the sheep have taken arms but to rip apart the Sheppard
what a subtle revelation in my mind I've found vacation
but the sands of time do torment those who choose an allocation
cometh now my saddest child, weep to me all things are foul
I have wandered fields of flander - Families dead inside their camper
death is still above the reads, skin and bones is all we keep
wooded hampers full of damper, sons and daughters, tin decanters
Copyright © chriss todd | Year Posted 2014
T' was the night before Christmas
At a house made of stone
There lived an old man By himself all alone
My sleigh stopped on the roof
With my presents to give
For the owner of this house
It's were this man do live
But when I did go there
What a strange sight did I see
No fairy lights no baubles
Not even a tree
No pictures of family Hung on the wail
Just medals and such like Was all I could see
An old soldier was sleeping Curled up on the floor
No bed no mattress As he slept by the door
Then I remembered the families
That I went to that night
Owed all of their freedom
From young men who were Willing to fight
Quite soon the whole world
When children would play
And parents soon celebrate a new Christmas day
And I started to wonder How many young men
Far away from their home In a far distant land
How many felt that they were alone
That terrible thought Invoked me to cry
And I fell on my two knees And started to pray
For I have no family No children no wife
But I do thank my lord For saving my life
This old man awakened And I heard his sweet voice
Say a prayer for me Santa But this was my choice
For I have fought for freedom
And I cannot ask for more
My god is my whole life And my freedom is for sure
Then the soldier looked up at me
it's Christmas tomorrow that's true
On your way Santa you have so much to do
I looked at my watch And I knew he was right
"merry Christmas my friend And to you a good night "
Copyright © emmanuel flanagan | Year Posted 2012
Here we go men! Into the valiant fight!
Where men become men and cowards flee our sight!
Iron will clang and feet will race;
As bullets are thrown at a frightening pace!
Men will be thrown and cries will be heard –
As we fly our way through the smoke like a bird.
But in the end we shall acquire our victory;
And together we’ll go down in the great epic of history!
Copyright © Josh Adams | Year Posted 2013
In his heart he holds courage,
In his hands he holds our lives.
A Brave Soldier he may be, but only at the the front lines.
He is weaken by all the death,
He is haunted by there souls.
For he knows in this battle, hatred rules one's goal.
He does not fight for hatred,
He fights for there lives instead.
Cause he knows hatred has no value, when so many are dead.
As he lays in death, knowing it will come,
He glances at the sky and makes peace with all he's done.
For on the battlefield, life is as precious as gold.
And one must always choose should it be friend or foe?
He closes his eyes and hopes in his death no more victims will fall.
But, in his heart he knows his country one day will call.
For A Brave Soldier to take the front line and give there his life as he,
He just hopes all are content knowing A Brave Soldier he will always be.
Copyright © Rachel Fogle | Year Posted 2006
In the presence of battle
Surrounded by smoke
Everything goes silent
Your heart pounds
As you realize
For a minute that you are alone
On that battlefield
Risking it all
For the fate of your country
You are a soldier
A soldier of God
And then you pray
Kneeling on the ground
That minute stretches on
Then you march
Onward and fight
The fight of faith
Guided by that holy light
It seems all will see
At one point
Finally, that prayer seems to make the difference
As you win that battle
Copyright © Billy McPherson Jr. | Year Posted 2010
a flag flown at half mast
a salute remembered that was the last
a star placed behind a glass
a quiet gathering to bury a lad
a moment of silence for those that past
the respect and honor for those
that died in the blast
a bugle playing Taps for what could not be
a flag folded and then passed
then the soldier lowered into the ground
feels that glory from all a round
his body lies at rest
but his spirit receives that which is best
to know that by his countrymen he was blessed
to a soldier that died in combat that is best
Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2008
I envy the dust, the way it moves all free and careless,
released from it’s sleeping state the thunderous pounds
of late shelling, again endless.
Muffled shouting, through this trench confounding,
Mustard attack, gas mask aside, fingers in fumbling fight
bitter cold night in a field.
No fireside, food to bite
cigarettes to smoke and mates to joke.
last one gone two days ago up one minute then vanished in a puff of smoke.
this place is beyond reality, it’s beyond insanity
fighting for earth no mother walked nor father built.
If they want to fight then bring it to my hills, not this flat wasteland of mud, blood, bones and chills.
We were thrown into this bloody war,
and we wont have our say, like we've never had before.
Taken to the slaughter history will say,
throwing ourselves forward like tidal-waves.
Waves on waves of sacrificial lunacy again and again.
we've taken little ground and this other trench looks bad, worse than ours
doesn't looked heavily manned looks like we lost more man.
What do we gain now? apart from more time in thought.
those withered layers of rotting feverish flesh, one part is fresh
the other pure dread.
captain is shouting, up on my legs
what’s going on...conscious or dead?
Copyright © Paul K K | Year Posted 2016
There he lies with wounds so deep
hurt from a blast from his jeep.
A man who fought for his country
so we the people today could be free.
The sound of gun shots near by
taking cover he hopes to try.
Waiting for his band of brothers
he hopes to survive like many others.
Whats a soldier suppose to do
when he fights for someone like me and you.
He stands his ground and does not walk away
checks his weapon and waits for his prey.
He crawls thru the field on his knees
he comes upon a few enemies.
They lay their weapons down one by one
they beg for mercy as he yells to run.
He drops his weapon to his side
he whispers "Enough men have already died."
He begins walking and searching for his platoon
knowing his survival is limited very soon.
He hears a sound that's just over the hill
he moves slowly in for the kill.
He looks into his scope surprised to see
his platoon and a few enemies.
He walks to them with blood in his face
turns around as he yells,"Let's get out of this place."
Copyright © David Materazzi | Year Posted 2007
The Glory Of War.
Now here is the story of a restless young man
Who dreamed of fighting in South Vietnam.
He’d learned about war in the comics he’d read
And he knew in his heart that for this he’d been bred.
As soon as it came up, the lads eighteenth year
He went off to enlist for an army career.
He saw some old major, and he sat for some tests
Then the shrink and the doctor saw him with the rest
Of those gallant young fellows that wanted to fight
And give to their country the force of their might.
When all this was over it was it was late in the day
So feeling elated he for home made his way.
About two weeks later a letter arrived
And reading it’s message his spirits raised high.
For he’d been accepted a soldier he’d be
And the feel of the message did fill him with glee.
He had to front up in a couple of days
And then for Kapooka he’d be on his way.
Ten weeks in Kapooka it taught him a lot
He learned to make war and leave bodies to rot.
He was taught how all commies just murdered and lied
And that he and his country had God on their side.
And that no sacrifice could be too great to make
And it’s an honour to die for a great country’s sake.
His training all over he joined a Platoon
He’d made Infanteer he’d be fighting soon.
It was off to corp training to learn even more
About all of the goodies that go with a war.
He kept seeing his image all tough, mean and strong
For he was a fighter and this was his song.
It was just eight months later that his posting came through
He was off to the jungles, he’d dream had come true.
Well his plane soon arrived at that sad Nui Dat
Where he first heard the guns as their missiles they spat.
He was fearful at first but he soon became calm
These guns were on his side they’d do him no harm.
A month or two later he’s out on patrol
As tail end Charley He’s playing the role
They were deep in the scrub with peace all around
Then the air came alive with this terrible sound.
He felt himself falling “Lord is this a dream??”
He asked, as he heard his God awful scream.
He lay there not hurting but sensing the worst
As he felt all around where his stomach had burst.
Where once it was firm gaped a warn sticky hole
It seemed that again, war had taken its toll.
It seemed like a nightmare, a terrible dream
As the medic assured him that it weren’t like it seemed.
He sensed the black silence and quickened with fear
For man stands alone when his end it be clear.
Then something within him gave way to great peace
As his wisdom did whisper that all things must cease.
Then the great mother came, took him gently away
From that place of man’s anger where a body did lay.
Copyright © peter duggan | Year Posted 2016
my grandpa was an ex-KAR soldier
that was before he died
he fought in WW2 as a teenager
but the so called hero
by the ones who wrote our history
was not able to build himself a house
a story of war
must a soldier fight for what's not his?
put in a course he cannot alter?
Copyright © Emmanuel Balele | Year Posted 2005
Ewe Aer Mye Destination
When the end of time rings
it comes with a bugle call.
Just like in the army
when all the fun begins.
The enemy comes to call.
The Trumpet of the ^A^ngels
will sound a ^V^ictory Sound.
All the dead shall rise
and some will live again.
This soldier gave his life
so that all his men could live.
A place inside the doorway
is where I will begin.
Just south of and outside of
Where I want to dwell
is just three feet from the door.
But Inside where the grass
is dewed on.
Where the mirror of mye soul
can come to be with me up there.
When her final battle with despair is ended.
She will have a place with me.
Iff this old soldier makes it.
So will She.
Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
Formation of water appearing on his head
Lying lifeless the beads of cold run down to his heart
Beatless it waits for any sign of life
Like a rose, his body insists for the morning sun
His soul left him not 2 hours ago
Cut down short by a dagger in his chest
The lonely water propells into his wound
Cleansing it of remorse and guilt
Too later, he cannot feel the healing power of nature
As dawn breaks and the sun beams into his bones
Drying his darkness and relieving his dead mind
The day has cleansed this lost being
Mother nature has kissed his body with her tears
Warmth of the sun has eliminated his evil ways
For now he is part of our world....her world
Decomposing for others to feed off
Good or bad everyone needs to pass
Soon time will get you, and when it does
Will the sun heal your wounds
Or will the water cleanse your soul
Or will it be too late......
Copyright © Penn Kname | Year Posted 2006
As the Soldier stands ready to fight,
The thunderstorm rolls in with its might.
Turning the day into night.
As the wind sweeps the sand like a broom,
Off in the distance the artillery booms.
Mixed with the sound of the thunder booms.
The Soldier is silent throughout the scene,
With a look that’s calm but lean and mean.
He has no fear because he is with his team.
The thunder gets weak and fades away,
But the Soldier was still standing that day.
Thanks for protecting and showing me the way.
The price for freedom was paid today
Copyright © jerrylee reynolds | Year Posted 2007
On scribbled parchment, sanguine letters writ in blood
Of hidden tales, broken pages smeared with mud
An unknown soldier, his blood he lie
With glint of sword, his death is nigh
A scar on the body, an ache in the heart
Blades in the dark, cut his chest apart
In his sorrow, with his dying breath
He called to his dearest Elizabeth
For never again would he see her face
‘Twould be here he died, this abysmal place
The war had begun, some fifty years hence
This soldier unknown fought for a sixpence
His gentle soul ripped by the horrible conflict
That artists of the gilded age could never quite depict
On the field of valor, were armies a’massing
‘Twas nought but bodies as sign of their passing
The head of the line led a cavalry charge
As arrows shot past, betwixt shield and targe
With iron-forged pikes upwardly thrust
To satisfy the wicked Gods’ bloodlust
Cries in anguish rang out cold as steel
Sheering flesh from bone, with fanatic zeal
With each death, came a tear fell from Heaven
The forgotten soldier, unidentified number eleven
Which side won the battle could not be told
Such death and carnage, history alone could be so cold
Through passage of time and the set of the sun
Came the dawn of a new age, the era of the gun
A weapon of such power that no armor can shield
That strikes such fear that the courageous yield
Could the forgotten soldier have known this to pass
How could he foresee land mines and poison gas
This is what we make of the cause he died for
To repeat the same mistakes, to continue his war
With a whimper or a scream, how does Humanity end
An unjust war on the horizon, on you it will depend...
Copyright © Ian Horton | Year Posted 2006