Best Taps Poems
Sometimes late at night as we succumb to sleep
We greet creative thoughts beyond those of counting sheep
It’s said Thomas Edison held coins in his hands
That clanged into a bucket noisily as planned
Stirring, he was intrigued by notions for invention
That seemed to emerge from a different dimension
It worked for him and if you enter an alpha state
You, too, may find this source of inspiration great
For it is this exercise of the mind unwinding
That serves to recount the day, subtle reminding
Of the joy you found when beholding a flower
And the thrill of discovering nature’s power
Or the touch of a hand from one who reaches out
When a vulnerable heart is mired in doubt
And the scent of loved ones’ perfume on a pillow
That permits our longing memories to billow
The sounds and tastes of each long day also emerge
As slumber takes charge and begins its nightly purge
So keep a pen and pad at bedside as you retire
Knowing that inspiration is likely to spire
Taps to Discovery
“Here, I’ve bought you something
Push this and the bell will ring”
But I want a real toy
Thought that tender little boy
There it stood unwanted went
While time with proper toys was spent
Then one rainy afternoon
Into his mind there came a tune
The plasticy machiney thing
He found and made that small bell ring
He struggled with intensity
To wind the paper in you see
He turned around that yellow dial
Till the letter came in line
And thumped that single key with smile
As letters formed on paper fine
Also that day, he had found
Upon that toy like typewriter
That words could make a lovely sound
From his mind, great inviter
Of that work he was proud
Another one he’d type ’fore long
Ran to daddy, sang out loud
“Can I have a bigger, better one”.
When I hear the sound of "Taps" on Memorial Day,
Or hear that plaintive tune when a veteran is laid away,
I try to remain stoical but am easily moved to tears,
As I recall the sacrifices of heroes throughout the years.
Valiant men suffered hardships at their posts in Valley Forge,
To win our nation's independence from resolute King George.
Stalwart men died in the War of 1812 and at the historic Alamo,
To sustain our precious freedoms - so much to them we owe!
The Civil War upheld the Union, tho' much needless blood was shed.
'Twas during that awful conflict that "Taps" was born, 'tis said.
Since its genesis, its haunting tune is yet heard o'er the graves,
Of heroes who sacrificed their all to ensure our flag yet waves!
They served with honor to defend the liberties we hold dear,
And to preserve dignity for others around this troubled sphere,
Giving all on the Altar of Honor for mankind's follies to atone.
Alas, in return, all they merited was a simple marble stone.
Sadly, most every day we hear that melancholy strain,
Echoing across the nation from hills and verdant plain.
As a grateful nation gathers to bid each a sad goodbye,
Parents, spouses and children are left to wonder - WHY!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
At 3 p.m. in every state,
All buglers, young and old,
Will join to play a tune which
On this date has oft consoled.
The song is 24 notes long
And “Taps” is what it’s named.
Its poignant sound reminds us
Of the soldiers death has claimed.
Memorials ensure that those
Whom war of life’s deprived
Will live on in the hearts of
Friends and family who’ve survived.
Across our country, where the flames
Of hatred are ignited,
The buglers playing “Taps” today
Give cause to be united.
TAPS
Alone upon a windswept hill, a single bugler stands
A song of solace in his heart, his horn held in his hands
Day is done, gone the sun, the mournful notes he blows
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky, the lyric goes
You cannot hear it and forget, those for whom it's meant
You cannot help but shed a tear for those to whom it's sent
The haunting sound that says goodnight, also says goodbye
Calling soldiers to their rest, they're safe now, God is nigh
Taps did play
The Indians had fled
And Custer lay there dead
The soldiers lay all around
But none could hear the bugle sound
If you want to hear
What was told to me
Read my Ghost Soldier pages 1-2-3
They're in my poems on page 3
If I disappoint you I apologize
For the story is quite long
We don't always have time to waste
On some one else's song.
Something just seemed to be urging me
To write this poem today
Perhaps because I've spent so much time
With thoughts of yesterday
Cile Beer
July 13, 2010
A Soldiers Last Taps
Steve L. Siegel
July, 2015
~:~
Yesterday as I walked among long rows of crosses
To where a soldier was being put to rest
I heard twin sounds of bugles playing taps
We all stood with heads bent low in prayer
~:~
It brought back thoughts of my fallen buddies
I had known such a long time ago
They came from across this fertile land of ours
From the cities and the farmlands.
~:~
I feel a little guilty at times my sacrifice was small
I lost only but a little of my time
But some of these men lost their all
They kept the faith, and fought the fight.
~;~
Through the delta to jungles of I-Drang up to Kay San
We fought the fight and gave our lives for freedom sake
Earning our last reward to God and Country
For that’s job of your Soldiers and Veterans...
~+~
P.S. On this picture I took it Near Port Angles WA.
It had been raining most the day and just before sunset
This is what I got. I had this picture in my file for a long time
Just never seened like it fit in until now.
NO PICRURE HERE IT WON"T LET ME PUT IT ON
Three Cheers for Afghanistan
Twenty years since US invaded
Terrorist strongholds raided
Al Qaeda eliminated
Yet ere we depart, it's fallen apart
Terrorism's once again strong
The 'government's' the Taliban
Play taps for Afghanistan
The old man stood silently, head bowed
Fighting back tears that needed to flow freely
A young Marine was playing Taps on the hill above
He and his wife shattered by the recent events
Holding on to his sanity with the loss of his son
War? What is it good for, what purpose does it serve
In defense of our nation, yes
For the protection of our freedom, yes
To fill a hunger for power, no; a thirst for greed, never
Oh God, to lose your child, the war never ends
As the last note is played, his knees buckle in grief
My son, Oh God, my son, Taps echoing in the distance
If his death served a purpose there could be a closing
If for one moment he could believe but it wasn’t there
Looking at his wife and the despair in her eyes he remembers
The words to an old folk song play over and over in his mind
When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?
In the days to come, he’ll sit by his son’s grave and talk
One sided conversations but he knows he hears him
So much to say, family, politics, war, questions unanswered
Why did you have to die son, Why? Dear God, tell me why
War, What is it good for? What purpose under heaven
A grieving father, an inconsolable mother, the answer burns
Absolutely nothing!
When nightfall descends and the rains tap upon my window
how do I know the light will come again
how do I know tomorrow will just not stall
and I will be stuck
stuck with thoughts written down in fairy books
perhaps becoming a prophet
pulling punches a top a Mary Poppins
but stop
the theives still rape the night
pillaging with their spilt ales
and self-induced wails
oh but the horrors the night brings
the window taps get louder now
sleep checks on the clock
but fails to blink
seconds turn to hours
—it feels like days
the shadows play tricks
silhouettes stalk my being
my mind won't slow
it's racing towards the finish line
Is that where the answers lie
as yesterdays have already lied to me
in false promises
sedated sits hope
never again living
lost in a lucid dream
or so it seems
.....
the here, the now, the know
a one act play putting on her show
jumping in with both feet
my thoughts are wet with wonder
trapped in the spell I'm under
trip, fall, come see it all
a picture show in slow motion
thru the raindrops I smell the ocean
wild and free
oh I long to be
...
but if this candle burns
and if their flickers move
I'll run away, I'll run away fast
deep inside with the promises
yet to be held to truth
the rain taps upon my window
the winds brush across the trees
I drift
I drift
I drift
...
Strolling about a military cemetery the other day,
In the distance I heard a solitary bugler play,
Twenty-four haunting notes for an honored son.
"Taps" was rendered for a hero, his faithful service done.
He proudly wore the uniform and felt it his solemn obligation,
To place service above self to defend the Constitution of this nation.
He now rests in hallowed clay awaiting Gabriel's triumphant call.
On that day he'll join his comrades in formation standing tall!
The dulcet notes reverberate across the rolling hills and plain.
He joins generations of gallant patriots who asked for little gain.
He sacrified his all on the Altar of Honor for all we hold so dear.
Even the majestic eagle, the emblem of our nation, sheds a tear.
Since its genesis during the Civil War by General Butterfield,
The doleful sound of "Taps" has echoed o'er many a battlefield.
This faithful warrior who died for mankind's follies to atone,
Will have his name etched for eternity on a simple marble stone.
Dear comrade, you've earned your well-deserved eternal rest.
God in His compassion will welcome you and clasp you to His breast.
You may be assured that as under this hallowed soil you lie,
That all is well! Safely rest, our noble son! God is ever nigh!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Into A Corner,
Of Morning Light,
God Nudges Me,
With A Beautiful Sight,
I Pay No Mind,
As It Breaks Through,
Sadness In Me,
Sticks Like Glue,
Paint Away God,
I Won't,
Enjoy The View,
God Asks,
"Whoever Heard,
Of Such Hullabaloo?"
Vickie Thayer
Eat my shoes
Eat my shoes
Eat my shoes, eat my shoes, eat my shoes
Please -- eat -- my -- shoes
Eat my shoes.
Heavenly Love Taps
Heavenly love taps
A light knock at the door
To wake me up perhaps
Open up my eyes
You see no lies, nothing feels sore
Father is here to visit;
Nothing abnormal…
And certainly don’t expect anything formal…
I sit up in my bed and thank him for waking me
For the blessings I’ve received
And for those breath-taking blessings
That I haven’t received yet.
The best has yet to come
Don’t have to think twice
For sure I don’t have to shop the stores
For any advice; you are my mentor
And I’m happy that I have you
What more could I ask for
If I’m a child of yours….
Heavenly love taps
By: Aleasha A. Martin
Around five and eight at evening’s rest,
Or anytime raised in solemness,
Taps melancholy notes proclaim,
Farewell to those in honor pay,
With the Lullaby that ends the day.