I'll hold the fort down while you're gone
And while you are I'll carry on
But know that you'll be thought about
And thought about and thought about
Your spot on stage though be it near
Won't be the same unless your here
For no one cheese and bread I'll bring
Until when you come back to sing
A solace for my troubled mind,
A tranquil ambience there I find,
When I'm saddled with the day's gloom,
When I'm in search of a serene room.
I sit by its shore,
In readiness to walk through its door,
Embraced by refreshing times,
Relieved of sombre climes.
I'm captivated by its rhythmic flow,
My dying embers brighten and glow,
I see a new me,
Swathed by tendrils of glee.
I'll heed its call,
When I'm on the verge of a fall,
I'll find props and comfort,
Renewed zeal to hold the fort.
March 16, 2023.
We meet on screen in six small squares
To stay in touch, as each one shares
What’s going on, the latest news;
To do so, Zoom is what we use.
We’re scattered now, so our routine
Of monthly dates where we’d convene
Has modified to just the talk –
No lunch, museum, shop or walk.
In six small squares, we can assess
Who’s doing well or who’s a mess.
We trade advice and give support
And somehow help to hold the fort.
We’ve met for almost forty years
And our connection perseveres.
Though age has caught us unawares,
We stay the same in six small squares.
Soldier
March off to war,
protect the ones you love…
and even the ones you do not…
At what cost?
Sweet memories you will not have,
of all the things you missed.
Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations,
and the “first times” of many times,
that can never, now be captured,
or recaptured by force.
Sacrifice, pledge, honor and strength,
war time or peace, you march, you go.
Your families suffer here.
You are always “missing in action.”
Yet they hold the fort, they lift your name.
You are not forgotten,
but the very center of everything.
Being there for us, when you can not be here…
Being there for us, where we can not go, or see…
It is because of you…
We…are free!
Just like the wind whirls in pathless air..
and comb caresses our countless hair...
I have a timeless tale no tongue can tell...
Our love is a heritage no soul can sell.
Through flood or flame, I hold the fort...
Shadows of shame cannot cut this short..
I am on a journey to boundless bliss...
Our love is a movie no one should miss.
Dewdrops of my desires continue to cascade
as my soul swirls to a silent serenade...
I am lost in the warmth of words unspoken...
Our love is a pasture of promises unbroken.
Boisterous billows may roar and roll...
frail fragrance may seek to soil my soul...
I will cling to that old courteous cross...
Our love cannot be decked with dust and dross.
Just Another Veterans Day
By Franklin Price
11/11/2015
Just another Veterans Day
As one, I have something to say:
We answered to the drum and fife,
For a time, another kind of life.
To march in step and learn to shoot,
Follow orders or get the boot,
Right in the butt; at least we thought
Respect and discipline we were taught.
Our drill instructor not our friend
Yet one on whom we could depend
Trained us well for what would come
So far it was than started from
Some did enlist. Some draft did call.
Once in the same, yes, one and all
No matter color, race or creed
All were there to fill a need
Some to combat would report
Would give their all to hold the fort.
Suffer wounds of body, mind,
Will never leave that life behind.
I wrote this poem to commemorate
The Veterans that we celebrate
And at it's end I have to say
For us, it's never: “ Just another Veterans Day”