Heroes, every one.
They came in a trickle and then a flood,
To enlist in the forces to do some good.
They were turned from ordinary men,
Into frightening fighting machines.
Farmers, millers, tailors of clothes
Butchers, bakers, they came in droves,
They rallied at depots throughout the land,
Now ready and able waiting for the command.
To theatres of war, battalions deployed,
Generations of men, leaving villages void.
Leaving women and old men to watch their back,
Defending the realm from an enemy attack.
Battles raged across the world, the land was red,
Before it all ended there were millions of dead.
War graves across the ravaged lands cry out,
Here lies a hero that no one may doubt.
They died knowing freedom was worth the fight,
Shoulder to shoulder they stood and they died,
Regardless of race, colour or creed, they knew,
This war against tyranny they had to win through.
No matter what this modern age try to do to erase
the memory of these heroes, they will surely fail.
For if war comes again to threaten the world,
They will rise again to repel and prevail.
Lest we forget, which will be NEVER.
© Dave Timperley 04/07/2021
Train
Locomotive rumbling - chugging train
Diners, sleepers, small caboose – no disdain.
Iron tracks to train the tracks of the train
Sometimes runs on mobile tracks – a seatrain.
Travels through the wayward wind and rain
Through valleys, moraine – mountain steep terrain.
Freight trains loaded with orchard fruit and grain
Thunders through wild wilderness and plain.
City stations, old depots to maintain,
Whistle stops, lonely nights – train refrain.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Cotati
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: October/2017
Cotati
Is
simply
simplicity profound.
A lost in time
picturesque throwback town.
Call it
a painting; a mural
a marvel Norman Rockwell,
would brush,
and
be proud -
It’s
Pacific Coast, Seaweed Toast,
Organic Roast
Vegan Pie, and Sweet Potato Fries -
Cotati
Is
simply
simplicity profound -
It’s
Rice Bowls, Fishing holes, Tadpoles,
Barefoot folks,
Old stagecoach, Train Depots,
Cypress trees, Tie-Dye Tees -
It’s Cotati
Where winter feels like
Spring!
It’s
Daffodils, Honey Bees, Lily Ponds,
and Sunbeams,......
April flowers
Intermittent showers -
Everywhere,
wild grass is green;
Chicks chirping
Frogs jumping
Folks set'n on porch swings -
Birds singing
Grasshoppers leaping;
Swimmers surfing
It's Cotati;
Kites flying
Fish frying -
Church bells ringing
Old folks walking
Children playing
Horses dancing
And
Box cars moving slow
to the old depot -
Beauty
is this town
on the west coast.
Cotati
is
Simply
simplicity profound
Copyright (c)., Ken Jordan 2017
He Found Clouds That Weathered His Mind
Twelve months ago he caught a train
A train of thought.
At the depot of his mind he got on,
As a stowaway.
All through his life
He was hitching a ride,
Hitching life,
Hitching nothing.
In tow
He had nothing to show.
Just seeds of gloom
That grew into trees.
Trees of melancholy.
On the outside he was normal.
On the inside
He was fighting his demons
Masked as depression.
On this train ride
He hoped for an answer,
A guiding light,
An angel from Heaven,
A welcoming change.
It grew worse.
Winds of faith,
Blowing him chocolate,
Wrapped up in sweetness,
An oasis.
He saw her on this train,
Another stowaway.
Perfect.
Water for his drought
The angel he sought.
His sunshine.
They talked briefly.
It stormed,
She turning into clouds
That weathered his mind.
Another aberration.
He got off,
Kisses blowing
In the wind
Masked as pain
Taking him further
Into the abyss, into
the depots of his mind.
connie pachecho
8/6/17
Awash in drunken peace of night,
Of quilts against morn’s blasphemy
We flit from flower bloom depots,
Those gentle postures of repose,
Like bees aroused to ceaseless flight
By dreams of pollen alchemy
And vats where golden honey flows.
Entanglements of arms and legs
Are Sunday crosswords to be solved,
Our pleasure fades like morning dew,
Evaporates when night is through,
As sunshine drinks dreams to the dregs.
And though our future’s unresolved,
Columbus, I discover you.
Brian Johnston
October 6, 2016
Today’s the crazy travel day
That everyone’s been dreading;
Crowds colliding all around,
No matter where you’re heading.
Airports, depots, subway cars
Are filled with out-of-towners.
Baggage bumping into legs
Turns smilers into frowners.
Every sidewalk’s packed and mobbed
With folks home for Thanksgiving.
It’s just like a zombie flick,
Although this herd is living.
Hopefully, they’ll make it home
Or to their destination;
Such a massive effort for
This Pilgrim celebration.
As for those who make the meal,
When patience does unravel,
Count your blessings – after all,
You didn’t have to travel!
My Son & My Little Princess have one hell of a mother.
She also is a hero of sorts and she's one unlike any other.
She was pretty much abandoned at her moment of birth
by her mother who disappeared off of the face of the earth.
Her mother took off with her father's best friend.
She probably had legitimate reasons,
but she left her children behind in the hands of a fiend.
He was the ultimate in child perversion.
So at the age of 8 she was on her own. She had no choice but to run away.
She'd rather eat from dumpsters and sleep in depots.
Staying at home had a worse price to pay.
The cold of some nights were never as cold as his cold and clammy huge hands
all over her sweet innocence when ever he wanted. When ever her daddy demands.
Her life since then has continued to be
one of hardship and unthinkable tragedy.
It's as if after dealing with one trauma she's faced with another,
but through it all, you couldn't ask for a more devoted and most loving mother.
Dearest Jamie, you're family and I'll always love you, but I also want you to know
I still often look upon you in loving awe. You're not just family, you're one of my heroes.
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