Standard bearers lead the Hearse
Past we Veterans lining the road ,
Booted and Suited, at the salute,
In that honoured Veterans’ Code.
We all enter with respect on
This sad and solemn day
Standards precede his coffin
As we see our brother on his way.
His long faithful service Included
An almost forgotten Korean War,
Now Our Brother Noel is at peace,
Memories can’t trouble him any more.
We few are here in lieu of those
Who today couldn’t be present,
The band of fellow Veterans
We few so solemnly represent.
At the finish of the ceremony
At attention, sad eyed, mute
We stand by his casket for
One last farewell salute
Just a few years I knew him,
Considered him my friend,
Sadly but with pride I come,
Here to Parade at his end.
"We are the Dead. Short days ago.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved, and now we lie.
In Flanders fields. "
Quote By _ John McCrae (Flanders Fields)
on the eleventh month, on the eleventh day, at the eleventh hour
under a blue hazy sky in my city
we honored those who answered the call and died
for the peace and freedom that we enjoy today
we have a beautiful war monument and statue
and a tomb of the unknown soldier
that we treasure everyday not just on November eleventh
all the wars are engraved in stone
World War I, World War II, The Korean War, Afghanistan
and it honors the peacekeepers who lost their life's also
the sound of the bands, the parade of branches of the military
the 21-gun salute, and the jet fly over, and the choir singing
the pipers and trumpet, breaks the silence of those standing tall
and when it is over everyone removes their poppies
and places them on the tomb of the unknown soldier
like red tears cascading
____________________
November 11, 2022
Submitted to the contest, 2022 Poetry Marathon, Mile 25
sponsor, Mark Toney
Born a boomer, he was.
After World War 11, he appeared.
Just before The Korean War, he came.
Into poverty, Saturday noon, he landed;
Never hungry was he.
Much warmth and love.
Obeyed parents and elders too.
He also went to school every day.
Good hard-working parents, had he.
He even had the treasured luxury of a
live-in grandmother who loved him ever so
dearly. 8 sisters, 3 brothers, and a dog named
Jack; Baseball, apple pies, and Sunday Church.
Let it be known that this boomer was surrounded by dreamers.
He lived among a proud people that never asked for much.
Everybody worked hard, and some also drank hard liquor.
Like today, all around the world, people up; people down.
The hand full of the very rich, contrasting with the truck loads
of the very hard-working poor, who endured the toil and bore the shame.
But they did not waste their time and energy playing the 'blame game'.
No time for steaming, they went to work every day and kept on dreaming.
090222PS
Beautiful San Francisco
In Northern California,
By the Bay,
There it is,
That beautiful city,
It’s the city Tony Bennett
Sings of
“I Left My Heart in San Francisco”
Those lovely trolley cars,
Make it so unique,
Nob Hill, a street we all know,
Fisherman’s Wharf, an interesting
Array of shops,
That famous Golden Gate Bridge,
My Dad told us he sailed by it
On his way to Korea,
During the Korean War,
My whole family got to see
San Francisco,
For my Dad, it was special,
Home to the 49ers football team,
Beautiful San Francisco,
In Northern California,
By the Bay,
There it is,
That Beautiful City,
It’s the city Tony Bennett
Sings of
“I Left My Heart in San Francisco”.
Celine Rose Mariotti
Crushed by WII
Brutal arms of Japan
Father in prison
Brother in heaven
But I marched on
Crushed by Korean War
Brutal arms of North
Goodbye, Father
See you in heaven
But I marched on
Crushed by hunger
Refugee in an island
Fish swam all around
No net to catch
But I marched on
Penniless in America
Land of abundance
Thirsty and hungry
To climb a mountain top
But I marched on
Yes, I was crushed
By wars
By hunger
By penniless
But I have marched on
Knowing
I have peace in my heart
I have freedom in my heart
I have gold mine in my heart
Nothing can touch them
It was during the Korean War
Mother came and said
Avoiding my gaze
We don’t have enough rice left
Even for people
Even for people?
Meaning?
Not for my best friend?
That night I couldn’t sleep
With all kinds of thought
Knowing what Mother meant
Next day, old man came
With wrinkles all over his face
Put a muzzle around Kwedong
My best friend
And took her away
Feeling numb
I watched her
Walking away
As she turned the corner
She looked at me
With her usual smiling face
She seemed to say
I understand
Goodbye!!!
I remember art deco things,
I remember peaches and wine
I remember sirens in the night,
I remember waving goodbye
I remember the boardwalk on a cloudy day,
I remember an elephant in pink
I remember the fire engine returning
I remember my father—I think
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
‘Memories of Margate during the Korean War’
Kindness is smile
Kindness is helping hand
Kindness is encouraging words
Kindness is glue that bind us
First year in America
I had a teacher in high school
Miss Rouelle was her name
She used her lunch hours
To teach me English
Good morning, she said
I looked at her
Not knowing how to respond
She smiled
Repeat what I just said
Good morning
She told me to write about
My father and mother
My brothers and sisters
My country during WWII and Korean War
I wrote in broken English
She returned my writings
With corrections all over
But she never laughed at how I wrote
Instead, she said
Your writing is improving everyday
It happened more than 60 years ago
I still carry my deep gratitude
To Miss Rouelle
Who used her lunch hours
To teach me English
Thank you, Miss Rouelle
Thank you for your kindness
SON OF SEOUL
Child presses sweet head to her,
While mother holds fast to him
Man busses forehead, soft lips tight
‘Gainst acorn-colored skin.
From ashes G.I. soldiers rose
To souls of Seoul set free.
Much taller than the rest, one stood
‘Bove war-torched Calvary.
And drifting now to streets of home
And bird-song tones of voice,
Her heart aches for freedom sounds.
Her sentence, Life, was choice.
Hiding loneliness in a treasure chest
Her soldier man won't find,
She forever bleeds for Seoul's sweet spice
to free her captured mind.
This child on her lap had been
Her altar-offering hope
That life could rupture forth again
Through scourge of blood and smoke.
But images of her home dissolve
As Soldier-shell draws in
And presses tight dead lips against
Her acorn-colored skin.
A Korean War Veteran
with a yearning to fly;
having tasted that feeling
of floating with the clouds,
that feeling of hanging
suspended in utter quiet,
of wanting to reach out
and gather the stars,
that incredible feeling of riding
the sky, sitting in God's lap.
A memory that would not fade,
but called him back and back,
until he returned to the skies
in a Cherokee 235, and flew
coast to coast, city to city,
like the wind that blows
wherever it will.
I remember art deco things,
I remember peaches and wine
I remember sirens in the night,
I remember waving goodbye
I remember the boardwalk on a cloudy day,
I remember an elephant in pink
I remember the fire engine returning
I remember my father—I think
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
‘Memories of the Korean War’
Poppies lay on cenotaphs
for heroes that died in the wars,
they gave their lives for all of us
that's the reason, what they died for.
The fallen heroes lie
in every one of our hearts,
each year that passes by
we never let them part.
Not only the first and second world wars
but, in the Gulf and Afghanistan as well,
all of these fallen soldiers are remembered
went and are still going through a torturous hell.
The Korean War and Vietnam
can not be forgotten, at all,
those soldiers gave their lives
heroes died watching another fall.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Nov.11/2007
This is about our Canadian soldiers. May they forever be remembered.
A Korean War veteran
with a yearning to fly,
having tasted that feeling
of floating with the clouds,
that feeling of hanging
suspended in utter quiet,
of wanting to reach out
and gather the stars,
that incredible feeling of riding
the sky, sitting in God's lap.
A memory that would not fade,
but called him back and back,
until he returned to the skies
in a Cherokee 235, and flew
coast to coast, city to city,
like the wind that blows
where it will.
Published by Poetry Explosion of PA
In Loving Memory of my Dad, Peter J. Mariotti
He left this world on May 9, 2011. I miss him so.
50 Years-Korean War
Dad, you were one of the foot soldiers,
When the Korean War began,
You were among the many to fight
In this foreign land,
You went bravely into battle,
Because our country told you to go,
You didn’t ask any questions
You just went to fight the foe,
North Korea was Communist,
South Korea was not,
The country had been split
After World War II,
Now American boys were fighting
On Korean soil,
The South Koreans needed help from
The Red, White and Blue
Dad, you were a hero,
You served our country well,
Now after 50 years
You finally were able to tell,
The story of your war
And the misery you saw,
The Korean War had been forgotten
But now at long last,
It will be remembered,
As an important part of our past.
Love always
Celine Rose Mariotti
Almost everyone who came back from Korean War
plays Piano now.
All around that lounge were cognac glasses
being used for tip jars.
The customers were either runaways-fugitives or
here for a cheap getaway.
Red could play Piano for days hooked on
saltines and codeine.
After the evenings set Red new it was back to the sidewalk
laying next to a warm cup of coffee and the memory of being told how good
he was.
He was startled by voices that begged him to play more songs
"c'mon Red give us a song
that old favorite,the song
that makes us forget".
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