I posted an old poem about Feathered Fancies then went back to my veranda and realized what was on the horizon. I wrote this poem as it came over me from a distant inside voice. It will replace the beautiful birds tonight and I will repost them again soon. SKR
*~Peace~*~Love*~* Harmony~*~ Believe*~
In sweet mystery's abandonment I close me eyes tonight
I cry for families distant and their morn that welcomes fright
I concentrate with eyes all squinched and hold my breath within
I wonder if some will return to tell of where they've been
Or will a pine casket hold their fate intact
Will nightmares come with valor as honor stays on track
Will faces age in one year what normal would take ten
Will justice and our ethics overcome greed and sin
What about our youngsters who leave with dreams of home
Then come back scarred with anguish at all they have become
Politics of warriors, Napoleons on a steed
Nose to nose from a distance as children fodder greed
I wonder of tomorrow upon horizon yon
Will doomsday polish victory for every mother's son
Then what becomes of honor when deaths return all torn
To a nation built on promise when Johnny comes marching home
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Reviews of "Johnny Comes Marching Home...March 8, 2003"
Reviewed by Tien Avielle (Reader)
Reviewed on March 10, 2003
I recall the survivors who returned from Vietnam - truly, none returned the same as when they left. My neighbor, who was drafted against his will, served his term of duty and committed suicide a few weeks after his return. I will only repeat the words of another author here (sorry, don't have the name) "Peace is all that war defeats." - and add, that it also sometimes defeats one's will to live. My neighbor was not born to be a killer - and chose not to live with the memory of having killed.
I only hope that, if (and I pray that it never comes to pass) we see war, this time, we will hate the war and love and honor the warriors who sacrifice so much to protect what we take so for granted. Old men declare wars, young men and women die in them.
Oh, yes, beautiful words but why, oh why is it whenever America is pushed to the brink and stands to defend herself that no one wants to say a bad thing about her enemies. Of course that only depends who is in the White House does it not.
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
A collection of love poetry both relatable and unique.. Poems both joyful, playfu , yearning and romantic. The Poet has exposed his heart and soul in words of love and admiration. Take a journey through the thoughts of a Contempary poet of love. Poet
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