Dedicated to Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (November 11, 1885 – December 21, 1945)
I'd fought a hundred battles
through the ages past and new
I'd been a lowly foot soldier
But at times commanded too.
I was a witness of Arab mothers
Fleeing cities under-siege ;
A new age liberator,
The commander of the third.
I had served with Ceasar's legion;
The Carthaginians; and the Greeks.
When Arthur was in his Kingship,
I was a captain of the knights
A horseman tough and skillful
Of medieval cavalier;
But ages had transformed me
to dash with iron wheels
The only time I meet MacArthur
Was in the salient of St. Mehiel
We both stood erect, calm, and unmindful
To the guns and bursting shell.
Oh well take a look at Monty
Too slow for his advance
He didn't expect me to take Palermo
or Mesina to my plan
I was reproved of my harshness,
They knew not that I was somber too
I cared not of my language
As long as my point would get through
I'd mixed my words with profanities
That my orders surely stick
My men would always remember every word
While they're in the battle field
Oh my, I hate those yellow bastards
They have no place on this earth
I sent them to the frontlines
That no more they would breed
Those swivel chair commanders
Discounted my two days time
But brave soldier deserved to be rescued
Before his dog tag stops to chime.
So my men made it to Dunkirk
To the delight of McAuliffe
"Surrender!" yelled the Nazis
but "nutz" was all he said.
I was cut off of supplies and fuel
For Market Garden's sake
But after pissing the flowing River
I held the Fuhrer's nest
So soon another war was ended
Mine enemies had lost
The iron carver claimed the glory
And relieved me from my post.
He was a large soldier, standing well over six feet.
In World War II; imprisoned in the Philippines.
Thousands perished on the Bataan Death March.
They were brutally beaten; starved and parched.
Wanting to give up, during this sixty five miles.
Thoughts of his wife, Helen; her beautiful smile.
They had vowed to be each others help mate.
He would press on, with a slow, painful gait.
Knowing she was praying for him gave him strength.
Tho thousands of miles apart, their hearts still linked.
Their marriage, like the oak tree; its' roots were very strong.
He was a skeletal seventy-eight pounds when he returned home.
When he was certain he could simply go no farther.
His lovely wife Helen became his scent of water.
*This is a true story about one of my husbands cousins, Helen and her
husband. She has dedicated her life to helping find POWS or their remains. She
works tirelessly and has helped numerous families. I am honored to know her. I never knew him. He had gone to heaven before I met my husband.
July 16, 2014
Contest: Scent of Water
Sponsor: Faye Gibson
Tender smile fumes, the vanished touch of yore
Against midnight scream, passion in folklore
Tether thy gaily words. Not a tear loss
Arise ye heads, looked thence before at toss.
Silence posit as means for foe deceit.
Norm thath mandate knees ‘till poseur forfeit;
Smash across bloody, unknown one gallant
Niggle on trust which n’vr malevolent.
Flee and austere, meek wolves escape shameless,
Fight outside pride, hope tributes when helpless.
Oh! Might destroy peace nurtured humble eye;
Obscure fate hung after teary goodbye.
Untold misery haunts. Short lived supper
Unfold all plots. We died unseen pauper.
I stand where we once stood on those lucky dusking nights
Looking for the silhouette of you with hope you’ll soon return from the far away land of combat
I hear the echo of your voice resounding through gun shots and bomb blasts
To carry me the words you spoke in pledge to battle a world to keep our child and love safe
And emptiness grips me where your embrace once filled
But the heart is warm with promise that you are fighting for state calm and right
The only reason our child and love strays on the sacrificial altars of war;
Now I write, with spirit to your valor and supremacy
To call you home in decorum, to love and family; to safety
Every time we sit without you under this starry sky
I almost see you straying across frontlines in shear devotion to state calm and right
And I am calling you home; I am calling you to safety
Calling you to fight for our child and our love as you have for the State
This is our family letter to a state soldier.
The evil Black Widow hatched a wicked plan.
Using a willy worm for weather control,
she could crush the ants empire in her hand.
Just by sending flooding rain and freezing snow.
The Empire of the Ants heard of her plan,
and ordered Soldier B123 to arms.
He took a trained Beetle to be his shield man,
together they marched out past the aphid farms.
Soon they arrived at the Black Widows abode,
and she strummed her web hard, to cause them to flee.
The Soldier grabbed her, and on her back he rode,
while the trained Beetle set the willy worm free.
The Black Widow slipped through a hole in the wall.
Soldier and Beetle stand ready for the call.
I’m sorry my dear heroes for our shame
For mothers’ empty tears that now go by
For curses braved so cowards sit and cry
For surely there is someone else to blame
I’m sorry that your glory became lie
That freedom was an easy thought to tame
That while you fought our leaders played a game
That all the hopes of yesterdays now cry
Like flocks of sheep to terror in we cave
To eyes and ears that watch us everyday
Arrested cause our clothes hint misbehave
Our children searched in streets they used to play
Those dreams of liberties whose cost were grave
Are freedoms we now lightly give away
The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared
He stared back at his life amazed
a scattering of miracles here and there
many cried out that he was crazed
when he gave that stern look and stare
Back there vast plains loudly waved
forested jungles crept up so very slow
Nature he wanted touched and saved
a tragedy of pain that the angels know
Dry, dead cities awaited his return
the man that set beauty in the blue sky
his life , a tree destined to burn
walking where others feared to even try
A man among men they admired and feared
the best any mother ever birthed and reared!
Robert J. Lindley, 02-27-2015
note: Dedicated to H D L ....