The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Let another sun set,
Let another flower wilt,
Let another autumn cast its gloom,
Let another tear role,
As ye part, and bid
The final adieu.
St. Stephen’s college
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
Strange or not
Odd and fun.
That’s not all
And still are
Strange and odd.
life is life.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move
Lies are life.
Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.
Lies are truth.
Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.
Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.
Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013
See problems they no worry Timothy
He was raised by his Great Grandmother
One day she taught him
Miho you can make life beautiful or ugly
Work hard, find a woman who has a strong back
Beauty fades it doesn’t last long
Now let me tell you
A woman with a strong back may not be your perfect companion
Times are changing, I think Faith is more important these days
I say okay Grandma, can I have the horachata now that you made me
No hush up! You can have it when I’m finished talking
Timothy come your poor Grandfather wanted you to have this
It is his Journal and I have never read out of it
She hands it to me
I am struck by it’s cover, it is brown and plain
Yet it spoke to me by it’s elegant style
These words were printed on the cover “Blanco Vendetta”
I was drawn and pulled in untill I was covered by the spell
The first page I open too it says “My first Mil Besos”
The Temptess that blew my heart away
I turn to page 33
It says “The story of an Apache Warrior”
There are no rules to an Apache Warrior when it comes to fighting
He says if you are my enemy I don’t care how but I’m gonna kill you
Page 41 is like a fist full of words thrown across the page
Barrio boxing, The protection of the Shield of Faith
Brokenhearted for my careless speech has left her heartbroken
Strengthened by Love “Amor”
Nourished by the sunshine in her hand
There is healing in its beams
Blessed by her presence Del Dios I am Greatful
I’m like Grandpa what did you say wrong
Then these words come to me
Give her your full attention when she speaks to you
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
So I close it and my finger brushes a bookmark
It’s the Last page
It says To: “Timothy my son who is as mighty as an army”
I Thank you for the Greatest Gift
For the Greatest Gifts are as small as your small hand that touched me
I plant these seeds and they will take root and grow because you are good ground
Timothy let me say That without you I would of never found my Faith in GOD
Listen for it is your Grandfather who is dead and speechless
Timothy you see the good in everything
And I know you will understand my words clearly
If a man gives you his word
Promise me not to plan your future on it
And if you give your word my son
Do everything in your Power to fulfill it
AND NEVER Promise more than you can deliver
For it is better to put out more than you promised
Everyman is considered unwise when he appears foolish
I wish I could give you some insight about women
But your Great Grandmother may help you better than I can
But never timothy, Never be quick to fall in Love
Or give your heart to a woman
Listen carefully to her words when she speaks to you
Cherish Her give her your full undue attention
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
Love your neighbors as yourself
And do not strive against another man
If he has done nothing wrong to offend you
AS much as it is possible live peacefully with all men
And it is okay for you to speak these things with your Great Grandmother
She is a very wise and God-fearing woman
Amor take the greatest care of her, I Love you Son
Timothy when the time comes to avenge my death
Hit harder then you ever have before
But not in a Duel son, not like an open Vendetta
Marry his daughter Maria
The one who is pretty and Two years younger than you
Oh! He will suffer greatly!
And it will kill him to know that I chose this way to repay him
And remember son to be ready to fight any man at the drop of a hat
Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2012
An unbearable pain awaits her;
For my beloved who is to bear.
A man cannot know this
Even when Daddy is there.
Hope may spring eternal
But it cannot quench the fire
Of the fruit of the labor
Spawned from our heart’s desire.
I think to myself...
When will it be time?
It is then that Grandfather Clock gives
My daughter her very first chime.
She gasps her first breath
Blessing us with her first cry.
She is born new and alive!
And all she knows is time.
Next door is a boy of few moons
Who hasn’t seen a single sun.
Born before his time
Most think his life is already done.
Don’t tell that to his mother
Don’t you even dare!
For she sees the clock.
She is fully aware!
She thinks to herself
“It is not my baby’s time to go!”
But within minutes
His Bell will sadly toll.
He gasps his last breath
And His mother begins to cry.
...Even as an Innocent of Grace
All his Mother feels is time.
A man of many moons
Is seeing the setting sun.
Living beyond his time
The man know his race is won.
Hope will spring eternal
And so will his life.
Not for his good fruit of labor
But from Another’s toil and strife.
He thinks to himself
It is now my time!
And with that, Grandfather Clock gives
My friend his very last chime.
He sips his final breath
But blesses us with a final smile.
He awaits a new and lasting life
Where everything he has is time.
The man’s daughter begins to weep.
She hasn’t seen the Father’s Son
She is living on borrowed time
And in faith she professes none.
Don’t tell Christ to his daughter.
Don’t you even dare!
She glances at her watch
Totally without care.
She think’s to herself
“It’s not my father’s time to go!”
But to the Believer
His Bell did gladly toll.
She mutters curses under her breath
She feels as a victim of crime.
Persons of Grace can give no consolation,
For she feels cheated by time.
Copyright © Dan Paddack | Year Posted 2006
Bony elbows lean into
the worn grooves of
a long wooden bench in front
of the platform. The aged gentleman
on his knees is well familiar
with this holy place.
On his first trip here
the vice grip of alcohol
fell from his soul like heavy chains.
Moments of repentance,
to shout and dance over deliverance,
a call to deeper dedication,
to weep at the death of his daughter
and a host of opportunities
of a 50 year span have led
him over and over to
this stronghold of sweet communion.
Kneeling now, he feels the brush
of a body next to him and
discovers his young grandson.
“Grandpa, I love you. I want to go
wherever you go,” the boy
whispers in his ear.
Grandpa softly replies, “Learn to love
The Truth that leads to this place, my child, and
we’ll never be separated.
Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017
A glimpse of the universe
he sees in the newborn baby's eyes;
That this boy will be a worthy man,
Grandfather sighs a prayer to the skies:
"May he be wise and learn from occasional stupidity,
and cheerfully takes on burdens of cheerless duty;
Let him, in hours of cowardice, be bold and prevail,
yet kind to those who struggle and miserably fail;
May he be honed by the grit and grind of trials and defeat,
yet stay humble in triumph, rejecting urges of conceit.
Let him look beyond the self, anonymous in charity,
a dreamer who works so dreams become reality."
The sound of the future
he hears as the baby cooes and cries;
believing this boy will be a worthy man,
Grandfather sighs, then so gratefully dies.
Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
A pleasant meadow with rows of stones
Not of Nature but chiseled by men
Each one has a story, a meaning
Thousands of stones sharing their stories
Each one lovingly kissed with floral lips
Yet I easily find that one I seek
Its story speaks to me as no other can
My grandfather calling my name
I clean his stone and bid him farewell
As I return to the world I wonder
Is he proud in Heaven
Of the man whose tears now flow?
Copyright © Vandy Saylors | Year Posted 2006