A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies,
our near-death rescue from boredom
come afternoon chores and homework pages
wrinkled in time.
I try to recall all I tried to forget.
Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship,
for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
between love and loss,
practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
you, a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain
rays of sunlight climbed,
diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
on the wrong side of the tracks.
Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded
of our bitter, listless eyes,
our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.
Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze,
shared with ease on our path,
thick with summer's dead leaves.
We, too young to notice,
fell into brittle leaves
before first snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams,
chaffing our willow trees
still sulking low,
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty,
and waits for you to come home.
An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
We have spent all our lives here with family and
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord
Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest
7th Place Winner
Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2010
Johnny was my best friend through our early teenage years;
Wherever one of us went the other could always be found near;
Until he found a girlfriend who soon supplanted me,
But because he was my best friend, for Johnny I was happy;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl
She rocked his world
Johnny had a girl.
Throughout four years of high school I was always the third wheel;
Going off often by myself, leaving Johnny with his girl;
They learned about biology outside the class room walls;
Johnny always had plans with her every time I would call;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl
Oh, what a thrill
Johnny had a girl.
One week before graduation, coming home from a date,
Johnny never saw the drunk driver until it was too late.
For three months in a coma, I sat by Johnny’s side;
I knew that when he woke up, someone had to tell him she’s not alive;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl.
I took him to the gravesite so he could see it with his own eyes;
We stayed there for hours so Johnny could say his goodbyes.
Johnny got in his car that day and started heading west;
Nobody has seen Johnny since, I wish him the very best.
I’ve taken care of her graveside for thirty years and more;
If Johnny ever comes home again, we’ll be friends just like before;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010
I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless.
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger.
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death!
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive.
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”
Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
In silence and in prayer.................
For those who gave everything
and never failed to protect
for those who left loved ones
and tried hard not to look back
for those who made it home
and for those who's spirits flew on...
For you my hat is off in Gratitude
I thank God for people like you..
I remember with thanksgiving
in painful facets from within
each man and women
who fought for this country
until the bitter end..
Come home my proud soldiers
come home once again
come home my mighty soldiers
come home to mend...
In Gratitude I bow...
A Debbie Guzzi Contest
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011
My friends come home draped in flags
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...
Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2011
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
It was the first day of the new school year
The children of Beslan had no need to fear
In anticipation they eagerly left home for school
Some walked hand in hand with Mom and Dad
Others skipped along the well known path
Excitement filled the sidewalks and the streets
As fleeting thoughts collided in mid air
Some thought of new friends to be made
Others of old friends with whom to play
A little sister left at home
Of baby brother asleep in his crib
Much too young to run and play
Some favorite lullabies which Grandmama sang
As Grandpapa played his violin
The first day of the new school year
Mothers beamed with such pride
How their little ones had grown
Never would they ever want to let go
Others gave in to their children’s cries
‘Mamma, I do not want to go to school.
May I stay with you today?’
On wings of hate evil had already arrived
With diabolical plans and bombs in hand
To maim and murder the children of Beslan
Who became captives in their little school house
After the dastardly deed was done
Dreams and aspirations lay splattered 'cross the floor
Childhood innocence forever vanished!
On the day of internment the sun in his temple hid
Earth wept pouring rain, her bitter tears
As Mothers’ voices cracked and strained
Cried out loud, their children’s names
While others pleaded in vain for death
Fathers in a state of shock stood stoically in the cold autumn rain
Wearing faces carved in stone
The blood of children cried out to Heaven
Where at the throne of mercy
Sits a God who is just
Though their bodies lay broken in tiny white coffins
On angels' wings their souls did ascend
He will judge all men and their deeds
All, on one appointed day
A tribute to the children of Beslan, No. Ostetia, Russia 9/1-3/ 2004
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2009
She's dying over and
From the insanity of
The heart will
Though I wouldn't
dare say this
At the sky she
She says life must
I must go on
I don't want to be
As she opens the
second bottle of
If I'd had a choice
I'd of gone with him
But I'd never wish
for him to ever feel
Not for a instance
In the night she
thinks I'm sleeping
But I hear
I was wondering if I
could have a moment
of your time ?
I know your a busy
bloke and that,
your tired with all
shouting up at you,
I would be too.
But I thought I'd
give it a go.
I know your the
universal spirit and
there's lots on
so I tell you what
I'll talk and you
can just listen,
give me your views
at the end.
I was wondering if
you've looked in on
Distraught you could
I know there's
I don't know the
but no matter.
I know there's
other's wanting your
The people dying
from cancer or
The African village
women screaming for
you to stop the men
taking their kids,
Putting them on
smack to fight there
Our boys in
So firstly I was
wondering if it's
normal to feel this
You see I think of
him so much he
enters my dreams as
soon as I close my
Is this your doing ?
Tell me what I have
to do to stop this
Tell me when I reach
the other side I'll
still be me,
Tell me it's ok to
still cry silently,
Tell me how to stop
Tell me, if this
ache in my chest
Tell me, I'm
standing this pain
to be with him
Go on tell me ??!!!
I'm so alone I bet
you got all the
Angels up there
keeping you company,
Hay I thought they
were supposed to be
down here looking
after us ?
Point is, the real
You got something of
mine and I want it
I'm not blaming you,
well I am sort of,
I think your a
really good bloke
but took too much
We all do it now and
then don't we.
I mean the church
wrote your book
It's really down to
Matthew , Mark ,
Luke, and John,
you should really
send them boys down
I know a lot of
people who want a
word with them.
Famine and mass
Because be honest
all wars start at
religion one way or
another don't they.
I'm Sorry I've gone
What I was saying
my dad told me if
he'd of died when he
got kidney failure
It's God's will.
Well if it's your
Do me a favour and
send my husband back
I wasn't finished
with him yet.
And if you can't do
Tell him something
Tell him I love him,
But lie, say I'm ok.
Say I'm getting by,
I got sleeping
tablets off the doc,
Say I'm almost
Not to worry.
Tell him I'm rushing
towards death for
That I've stocked up
God, tell him I'll
be there soon.
Copyright © little known nothing | Year Posted 2014
W eeping fills the hangar as his casket is brought out,
E mbraced by Old Glory's colors, a fitting soldier's shroud.
L oved one's hearts are shattered, future hopes, dreams are crushed;
C omrades in arms salute him, adding a bittersweet touch.
O verwhelming grief consumes those left behind,
M eaningless words, platitudes spoken to be kind.
E arnest tales of bravery told of him who died.
H eavy with emotion, a nation shares regrets,
O ffering condolences to those who won't forget.
M any a brave soldier has been welcomed home this way.
E nding future ventures, they've come home to stay.
Entered in Susan Burch's Little Viewed Jewels contest.
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2011
I was laying on the beach
On a hot August morn
A sudden pain in my gut
I knew that something was wrong
It's Eddie. I felt it so strong
I Picked up my cell and I called
The emotional pain of it all
My body curled up in a ball
I sat up again to be sure,
the solar plexus was sore
Why to I question these signs
I know that there isn't a cure
For the feelings I want to ignore
He never answered the phone
I packed up my stuff and went home
I worried all day and all night
The sunrise brought more than just light
The loud banging began at the door
I peeked through the blinds to be sure
There were cops all over the street
Guns drawn made the picture complete
I opened the door full of fear
Oh my God! Why are they here?
My heart dropped, I wanted to hide
When he said "Sgt. White, homicide."
Is your son home he wanted to know
With his foot in the door I said no
Do you mind if we just have a look
And I backed up after biting the hook
They swarmed through the house
Guns up in the air
Upstairs to his room
They looked everywhere
My solar plexus was right
I'm glad I came home last night
But where did he go? I needed to know
His innocence still in my sight
The officer said have a seat
Let's talk about where he could be
A boy was found dead in the street
A witness put Ed at the scene
Don't worry he said as I pulled my robe tight
Your son was a victim of robbery last night
I know he's afraid to come out in the light
I didn't believe him. But I knew he was right.
My son was afraid and now I knew why
He took someone's life who's mother will cry
He was just seventeen a year younger than Ed
Why do these kids seem to be so misled?
What happened that night is a mom's biggest fear
A child was lost in the drug war I hear
The exchange in the alley of weed for the cash
Was a set up to rob him of all that he had
When the kid put a gun against my son's head
Said 'empty your pockets' or soon you'll be dead
He had no idea that the pocket was packed
With a 38 special protecting the cash
The rest of story is packed in a box
The panic, the fear, the action, the shock
He emptied the gun and ran for his life
While Nicholas bled on the pavement that night
My heart cries to God asking why must I be
The mom of the kid who killed her baby
I cry for her loss as if it were mine
I beg her forgiveness, and I offer her mine.
You don't want to be either one of these moms
Our children at risk, a sign of the times
God please shine Your light on this good Earth today
We're all human beings who've just lost our way.
Copyright © karen feist | Year Posted 2008
A cousin called the other day saying "Another cousin has passed away".
Well my husband said "How old was she.""
A stalwart woman who had served family and community well. Producing one child that
became a missionary serving in a foreign land..
While talking the cousin asked "Did you know ______"?
My husband answered, "Well, I don't think that I knew them".
The cousin proceeded to tale this story.
"The man had been down with cancer for a while and passed recently..The funeral had been
conducted and the hearse had gone on to the cemetary..The family car with the family was
not to far behind..But when it pulled up, the wife of the deceased did not get out and the
funeral home staff was gathering around..The funeral home director decided to go see what
was going on ...."
The cousin said, " That this funeral home director told him". "That he had been in this
business for thirty-five years and faced something that he had never had happen to him or
any other funeral home director that he knew."
The funeral home director said, "When I got to the family car, I found the wife of the
deceased had passed from a massive corornary."
She had said, "I don't know how I will live without him." She didn't have to learn. God called
The roosters crow, the crows craw and are answered by the gobble of the turkey across the
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
While walking through a hospital one day, a veteran I did see
He was in a wheelchair with both legs missing, and he did it for you and me.
I turned around a corner and down another hall
Only for my eyes to behold a family who has lost it all
A five year old cried out,"Why did daddy have to die?"
The mother held her son closer while she greived and began to cry
The mother of that young Marine, who had fought over in Iraqu
Wandered why her son so brave, didn't survive the enemie's attack
The father of that soldier, hung his head to cry
He was a retired soldier himself, why couldn't he have been the one to die?
His heart broken sister, sits in shock and tries to deny
The death of her older brother, he was killed and don't know why
A few days later, a family, everybody all dressed in black
Went to the funeral of a twenty-five year old who too our bullet in Iraq
The Bible says "thou shalt not kill." and "Love your neighbor" too
Maybe our soldiers aren't doing what's right, but they still take your bullet for you
They sleep in foxholes, and eat in trenches, and do all that they know to do
They rest in the sand with no comforts of home and they take your bullet for you
The restless nights turn into days, you wouldn't believe all they go through
THe rest of us sit at home and gripe, and still they take your bullet for you
The next time you hear a 21 gun salute, don't condemn as others do
The next time the taps are being played, remember, they took that bullet for you.
Thanks, Veterans for your sacrifice.
Copyright © Brandlynn Young | Year Posted 2006
Nobody knows the pain she hides,
No one cares to look inside.
This little girl that’s only nine,
Has to fight to stay alive.
Her mom’s an alcoholic,
And her daddy does drugs.
She gets beaten and bruised,
Instead of kisses and hugs.
Nobody hears the little girl’s cries,
Nobody notices her wet swelled eyes.
When her mommy is drunk and her daddy is high,
So she doesn’t get beaten, she has to hide.
She’s sick of the pain,
That she suffers from every night.
She’s sick of getting punished,
For her mom and dad’s fights.
So, she went downstairs and grabbed a rope,
And hung it way up high.
She stood on a chair and put her head through the noose,
And jumped and hung there to die.
Her mom came home drunk that night,
Her daddy came home high.
To find her hanging by the rope,
To find out she had committed suicide.
Nobody knew the pain she hid,
Nobody cared to look inside.
The little girl that had wet swelled eyes,
Committed suicide and no longer has to fight to stay alive.
Copyright © Ashlee Vargon | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
He received the call in the middle of the night,
be to work by sunrise, you'll be taking a flight.
Go to a land where freedom will rise,
men will stand proud and wipe tears from their eyes.
Suicide bombers for a man who controlled,
brutality to the people, dignity he had stole.
The soldier would travel to a far distant land,
where oil was vass and towns made on sand.
He fought for his country, he life sealed with fate,
his family remembers the call on this date.
It was warm in Sepember, he was out on patrol,
explosives were used and would soon take its toll.
He fought the good fight for freedom was sought,
much food and some water, America brought.
But he would come home boxed with a flag draped on top,
violence was something that he tried to stop.
He left earth the hero, he had fought with much pride,
Joined Jesus in heaven, and walked at his side.
Copyright © Kimberly Ghadeer | Year Posted 2006
Scatter me there where the winds are sweet
To the blue of the sky and the sun’s bright heat
On Oliver’s Camp where the dragon lines meet
Scatter me there on the hill
Scatter me there where the waters flow
Where the weeping mourners come and go
Down by The Wharf where the ducklings grow
Scatter me there on the bridge
Scatter me there where the earth sees all
When the pond is lit by a moonbeam’s fall
Where the children play and the drunkards brawl
Scatter me there on the green
Scatter me there where the griffons play
Where the waters pour the hours away
In the pool of the fountain on Market Day
Scatter me there in the stream
Scatter me there with the silent dead
Where ages of souls have been buried and wed
And the angels cavort among coffins of lead
Scatter me there by the church
Scatter me there where the townsfolk cried
And strew flowers on the steps when Diana died
On the stair where 'tis said that Ruth Pierce lied
Scatter me there on the cross
Scatter me here and leave me be
On every street, under every tree
Until I am dust and memory
Scatter me here where I’m free
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016
Wrestling the wreckage, I'm fading into darkness unknown.
My head is going straight to voicemail, missing calls from home.
These veins are erratically static, strung out on a backseat,
but the memory of music shall comfort me.
I am so scared, but trapped in such melody.
A bitter-sweet, temporary goodbye;
there isn't a stranger in sight to notice that I'm not alright.
In this night, take me back to simpler times,
when these wheels never spun out on the ice.
Pain has made me so slippery,
giving in to triggering trickery.
Please pray for me.
I am in need of jaws,
to bite off these flaws!
I am almost gone beyond repair.
God, I am so scared!
Copyright © Sarah Gilley | Year Posted 2017
In a beautiful green valley
Where wild flowers grow
Comes the first blanketing of winter's snow
The clouds up above float luxuriously by
As I lay and stare at the wonderous sky
I can hear the wind whisper thru the trees
And smell the crisp air in the gentle breeze
I can not touch or feel
The feeling is slightly surreal
I cast my eyes down
To see what lays ahead
It is then that I realize that I am dead
My body is draped in a long black dress
My skin is absolutely colourless
It's a frightening feeling I must confess
I can hear the priest saying a few kind words
And in the background the beautiful harmony of birds
Sniffles and sobs reach my ears
I guess I didn't make it to my golden years
My eyes survey the group gathered round
A tear in the eye of each could be found
It is then that I see my only boy
And my love for him shines with so much joy
Suddenly a sadness fills me where once I was glad
As I realize I will never again kiss that sweet lad
He's saying goodbye
And I must too
I just don't know if I have the strength to do
A soft voice calls to me from above
"Come home my child", it says with love
"Come home and be free, Come and live with me"
I yearn to drift into that heavenly grace
But I can't bear the look on my child's lonely face
I drift just a little above
And turn to look back with sadness and love
Be good my son, be happy and carefree
Don't cry or remain sad, think of me and be glad
I will be waiting for you at heaven's gate
There I will sit and patiently wait
And when your work here is done
I will welcome you home
Then you and I will never be alone
I know that he can't hear the words in my head
For I know I am really and truly dead
A gentle hand touches my arm
I know that it is time to go
And so I walk toward the heavenly glow
Leaving no footprints in the brand new snow
Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2006
He stood along his grave and tears began to flow
Why Dear God did You not take me, he was so young, You know
He had a future full of dreams, and now his life is done
He was more than just a casualty, he was my only son
A woman knelt down to pray and stared sadly at the floor
My husband won't be coming home from this never ending war
Oh God please help me carry on, now that he has died
He was more than a statistic, he was my life she cried
A child asks his mother, where did my daddy go
When will he be home again because I miss him so
The mother holding back her tears, says in time you'll understand
He was more than just another soldier killed in a foreign land
Thousands have died in this unjust war
As our politicians leave their mark
They are more than just a list of names
On a monument in the park.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2007
perhaps memories linger,
with wisps of wafting moments,
aware, somehow, even of the now,
Though long forgotten by all others,
One wonders why, and surely how,
Such strong vibrations of the past,
Seem to time, to have taken a bow...
Gutted building, windows broken,
Creaking, leaking floor,
Last stepped on by the living,
So many, many years before...
Where lives were lived, and
deaths have come in their way,
To others, in a time gone by,
Who here saw their last sad day,
Tears were cried,hearts
Love withered, its flame
reduced to ash...
Is this a mysterious black hole of time??
A singularity, of now and here...
Where time is not so limpid...
And death is always near,
And fear can swim in the unknown,
The fear of time's mysterious cloud...
As ticks, as tocks, somehow go forever by,
so mysteriously, and seemingly, oh so loud...
What was the last calendar's year hung?
The last phone call received,
And who had been the one rung??
Secure in forgotten
And with time,
you've lost the race.
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007
Lord thank you for this life,
As I have lived a full life,
It was not always as I would have like,
But I lived it to the best of what I could,
I’m going home; Home to the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been a long weary believer,
As I’ve been away to long,
I now know what I’ve been searching for,
As He's been there in me all along,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been and seen lots of places in life’s journey,
Now I yearn for familiar faces in familiar places,
I hear familiar voices calling me to come home,
I see familiar faces looking at me,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
My time is near, the hour I know not,
I see Jesus' face across the Heaven’s,
I hear His soft sweet voice calling me home,
I can’t wait for my real life to begin,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me.
By; Rev. Samuel and Esta Mack, OMS
VISIT US AT: http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com
Copyright © Rev. Dr. Samuel Mack OMS DD | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
In the childhood home her mother spins her child
Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow
And the childhood goes by; faster, faster
A growing child with so much energy running and having fun
Careless and free he runs across the yard
He is growing up; faster, faster
Only in middle school and already a rebel
Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight
He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster
High school has come at last
The odd man out he cries for attention
Into depression he spirals; faster, faster
At the high school prom he meets a girl
The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears
They are falling madly in love; faster, faster
Barely a year and a kid on the way
To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day
A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster
So far a happy life, and a good career
They buy a home and outside he spins his child
Another childhood is going by; faster, faster
His life was long another one has started from it
But now the ambulance move; faster, faster
And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower
Copyright © Evan Zeitler | Year Posted 2010
Wondering if it’s an omen, finding the box in the attic today?
A treasure trove of memories into our lives
This piece of paper upon which I started to write a poem
I remember at the time I could write no more as I grieved
Missing you as each day goes by and wishing you were here
I know you are in the ever loving arms of our Lord
The Lord sent you down as an angel on loan to us
You were called home dear and we were not ready
I know we will one day be together again
Waiting for the day we will be called home also
Now the poem I started to write to you is finished
Our time together will come again my daughter and
Written by: Carol Brown
For The "Treasure Trove" contest of Linda-Marie
1st Place Winner
Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2012
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Do you have a clue,
What that person sitting on the curb is going through,?
Did you give him a smile, wave, or even say hello,?
Or, did you just ignore him and drive away as fast as you could go,?..
The dude has no home, no food to eat,
But does that cross your mind when that rush hour traffic you're trying to beat,?
Do you justify your actions by considering him a slob,?
Because he sits on that curb while you're off to your cush job,..
You look at him with such disgrace,
All because he has dirt on his face,
While your at home in your nice hot shower,
He's no-where to go so he just sits on that curb hour after hour,..
You will have a nice dinner at your table,
But tonight this fellow won't be able,
It's way below zero outside and you're in your nice warm bed,
But the guy on the curb can't stay warm for he is found the next morning frozen, Dead,..
If in the beginning you'd have given him a smile,
He may have gone another mile,
If you would of given him a wave,
He would of thought someone cared and not be headed to his grave,..
You could of offered him a seat at your table and given him a hot meal,
But, since you judged him to be a slob with no job you figured he'd steal,
If you'd of offered him a nice hot shower and a nice change of clothes,
He would of been more like you, I suppose,..
Except for a few facts like your wife isn't yet home from work,
His wife's neck in a tragedy snapped with a jerk,
She died at the scene,
When their car slid into a ravine,..
Your children are in their beds upstairs,
His two children passed away a week after their mother in spite of all his prayers,
Yes the man on the curb had a story,
One that with a little help from you could of been used for Gods glory,..
He lived, he loved, he married the woman of his dreams,
He laughed, he had two great kids,he wasn't a slob like you thought, everything is not what it seems,...
Leah Russell 1-17-2011
Copyright © Leah Russell | Year Posted 2011
In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores
for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `
Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
The red album, The blue album , The White album
Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
Ringo's face , something hard to understand underneath~
I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears
For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence
Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died
I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it "
No .. this was not my hero in music and song .
he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes
bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss
One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
his world of secrets
He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
The very sad long and winding Road ~
Let us Bury our real Paul.
No more " Mystery tour "
No more fear
Let him be in peace ~
Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2011
Tina - At Home In Our Hearts
Tina came to us as one in a pair
With a sweet disposition – beyond compare.
A loving heart was hers to give,
And give, she did as long as she lived.
Britney, on the other hand
Acted as one from an outlaw band
Poodle Rescue was their former home
From our care they would never again roam.
They reached their teens casting their spell
Till one dark day we heard the specter’s knell
A dreaded tumor was Tina’s fate
And her life became anything but great.
Grief was sown in hearts that day –
Hearts, that wanted her to stay.
We came to know that Tina’s fate
Would take her straight to Heaven’s gate.
So, a needle brought, an angel, sleep
And broken hearts were left to weep.
Now, Britney moans so soft and low
Wondering why Tina had to go.
Written by: John Posey
Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2013
Always in black, Fr. McShane
raises cathedral hands and intones,
‘our brother is finally home.’
Absolved of the fight to contain
a lifetime of tears
in this ceremonial splendor
I just have to wonder.
His Nikes are ‘home’
in the walk-in closet,
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
August 31, 2012
Copyright © kathryn collins | Year Posted 2012