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Robert Houlden Poem
I am older now, my
body creaks, but it
remembers.
As if it happened
yesterday,
Walking through Camp
37, east of Dresden
Germany
Dark, sorrowful
overcast skies
Hang like a wash of
black ink
Rusted razor wire,
empty guard towers.
Sentinels to times
past, a reminder
Snow crunches like
ginger crackers
under my feet.
Forty cabins, dark
weathered wood
Allied containers
Sweet pine scents
the cold air
My old bunk is bare
Etched messages in
wood, still there.
Hidden stashes,
cigarettes
Freedom in dreams,
shattered when you
awake
Silence,
But my thoughts are
partying,
Tea time was the
best, no cream
Tattered Red Cross
packages, tastes of
home
Hopes for tomorrow
Final freedom.
At Armageddon's end,
Captors become
captives
Deliverance to
tomorrow,
I remember it well.
Copyright © Robert Houlden | Year Posted 2014
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Robert Houlden Poem
Defending his home, and country
on the altar of freedom
a sacrifice, his young life
A mother's despair
is born with death
never extinguished by words, they try
Gallantry is recognized
Homage and praises arise
Punched stone, finally bears his name
These words, a mother is left
Words of Honor, that cushion
the journey from despair to remembrance
Copyright © Robert Houlden | Year Posted 2020
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Robert Houlden Poem
>War Machine<
It is a miracle of engineering
we patiently plan
we build
we test
step by step
piece by piece
a glorified mass of cold grey metal
decorated with tribal colours and symbols
lethality at distance
the grim reaper with
a pointed steel finger
your done
with earthly masks to hide
from enemy eyes
if hell has a family vehicle
this is it
Copyright © Robert Houlden | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Robert Houlden Poem
Defending his home and country
On the altar of freedom
His young life was sacrificed
A Mother's despair
Is born with death
Never extinguished by words
Gallant service is recognized
Homage and praises arise
A name punched into stone
A mother is left with words,
Words of honor that cushion
The road from despair to rememberance
Copyright © Robert Houlden | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Robert Houlden Poem
A prison for stolen souls
Battlefields are
Trapped in the urgency of yesterday
The chosen, unseen and silent
The scarred earth they walk
Past objectives, they search
Grass now, blankets of rolling green
Cover the fallen, not the pain
Copyright © Robert Houlden | Year Posted 2020
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