come let the Father speak His heart
In our minds
through our eyes
He sings melodies springs
past participle chose more alternatives;
Select offend means to
pick;
pick out sometimes means stand out
opt for means to wait;
plump for is gained weight;
go for means to go git it;
take may mean to steal it;
settle on means to accept
fix on means unbroken
vote for
single out get those men out of the Senate and Congress;
handpick means picking tomatoes and corn
set;
designate army buglers … hun!!!
determine, specify, appoint' name
nominate isn’t voting;
adopt doesn’t mean gathered family carriaged;
espouse doesn’t always mean marriage;
pitch on GET rich on
9/19/23
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
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.
~ Let's Have a Parade ~
A Shriner drives his little car
Hairpin turns upon a star
Red-fezzed Turks play guitars
Let’s have a parade…
A marching band is next in line
Buglers trumpet notes so fine
Cymbals crashing all the time
Let’s have a parade…
Egyptian camels with two humps
Maneuver over traffic bumps
Circus dogs through hoops do jump
Let’s have a parade…
Little Leaguers, baseball teams
Young majorettes live their dreams
Confectioners dispense mint creams
Let’s have a parade…
A special occasion is not needed
If my advice would just be heeded
Camaraderie and Joy to be seeded ~
Let’s have a parade…
O' LIVE Sweet TAPS We Miss Thee
Whoever thought it would come to this?
Live TAPS for the dead are dismissed.
The live bugle is silent. It's no longer real.
It's as dead as respect. It's a callous repeal.
Now technology's robot waits in the wings,
And a CD spits out the sound.
To think that TAPS have come to this,
And no humans come around.
This one last human act of respect,
Should never be summarily dismissed.
Instead we owe homage to what they gave,
To our heroes who no longer exist.
Few debts can be paid to those heroes,
Call out for LIVE TAPS to be played.
Instead of robots, send buglers,
Where our veteran bodies are laid
LIVE TAPS are the ultimate honor,
For heroes who lay in the ground.
Demand no less than living lips
To bestow that Bugler's sound.
I am the peakest of peaks.
I rise out of morning mist,
a castle of earth.
From my towers, I see everything...
where sky meets heaven,
sunshine meets shadow.
My spires: pine, spruce, fir,
cling where they can.
Eagles, my banners,
soar in the wind.
My courtyard is that valley below,
tents of blue and green.
Listen to my buglers, the elk,
boasting how they can withstand this climate
of wind, of cold.
I have no need of travel guides.
Though jets fly past my face
promising passengers rare vacations,
I am quite content.
When the Sun sinks in the west,
silvery purple and yellowy gold wildflowers vanish.
Banners are still.
Buglers sleep.
Then I lift my eyes where endless stars await my gaze.
As for me and the Moon...
we can almost touch.
i'm sadly sick of the sweet refrain
Which reminds me of my comrades slain.
Each night in my sleep I dream the dream
The Last Post 's doleful requiem. .
We all stand in serried rank and file,
Soldiers in uniform without smile.
The bedecked carriage lowers slowly,
Rifles raised , a resounding volley.
Bugles raised to lips to the fallen toast,
Buglers draw out their tune - The Last Post.
I wonder when I give up my ghost
will I be blest to hear - The Last Post ?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-Pz5KsyfN0
~15 Jun 2016~
It was so simple
All he had to do
Was what they
Told him
Stand straight
Wet your lips
Press the valves
And let the bugle do the rest.
The last few words
Were the toughest
“..Then goodnight, peaceful night;
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright.
God is near, do not fear,
Friend, goodnight.”
The melancholy sound
Lingered for a moment
Emotions evaporated
In the warm afternoon sun
Tears stopped
Then an uneasy silence
Came
As the mourners
Slowly left the cemetery.
He was just a regular soldier
There weren't any buglers left
The bugle
He played
Was electronic
With the press of a button
A sound came out
But who was to know
It was all make believe.
He waited
Half hidden
Under the shade of the trees
Nervously placing
The bugle
Back in its case
For him
There was no sense of satisfaction
Only of relief
That it was over.
Taking a deep breathe
He turned
And walked away
Just like they told him to.
I sat beside my window
To greet the early morn
And hope that I may hear soon
The buglers upon their horns
Only then will I be sure
That my heart be full of glee
Harrah! He is home now
My traveler has come for me
Traversed by naught but brave,
He tells me of these lands
Tales of beasts and babes
All tamed by his firm hands
Oh, I have traveled far and wide
Says he with a sigh
But have seen the greatest treasures
A-sitting by your side
When I become so weary
And the road becomes too rough
Why, I have naught to do
But think of you, my love
For my cousin Bobbi Jean.
May you and your family continue to have a blessed life.
UN soldiers fought and were forced to retreat
Behind sandbags protected by barbwire hoops.
Many GI's died as they held off attacks,
By 810,000 Communist troops.
Our guys used phosphorus, flame-throwers and napalm,
For without these weapons they could not survive.
The Communist charges led by buglers,
Till the UN could start it's offensive drive.
On the battlefield of death and misery
Many froze with their hands still stuck to their guns.
While others hobbled with their boots wrapped in rags,
City boys, farmers, students, fathers and sons.
With a million and a half dead or wounded,
Both sides singed a truce before generals involved.
July 27th, 1953,
And though thousands were orphaned, nothing was solved.