Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Poetry
Publisher: KTC Publishing Phase IIC Coaching, LLC
Type: Fiction
Pages: 61
Copyright: Aug. 4, 2016
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
Book two in the author's series of poetry about life's experiences in addiction and recovery. This award-winning poet shares his heart and soul with his readers.
We Can a Collection of Poetry; A Journey Through Addiction and Recovery 2 is the author’s sixth book. This work is the author’s second collection of poetry; his first was Tumbleweeds published by Feather Books in the United Kingdom in 2002. The author’s poetry reflects the struggles of life in addiction, recovery, and his experiences and in the lives of others that he witnessed over the last four decades. His hopes are that his poetry books and other addiction recovery books and manuals will help individuals and family members to get a deeper understanding of the disease of addiction, the solution to the problem, and the program of action that promotes change in the substance abuser. Rev. Dr. Coughlin hopes to provide clarity, understanding, education, prevention, and awareness about addiction and recovery. This book is dedicated to all those who have lost their lives and their families because of addiction.
PLEASE VISIT www.theaddiction.expert for other books written and published by Rev. Dr. Kevin T. Coughlin Ph.D., there you can join his mailing lists for advanced notice on his next books, trainings, and live events.
Excerpt
Valhalla
The brittle bones of mighty ships rest on rocky reefs,
Their broad blades now silent and still.
Skeletons are all that remain
Of those who have gone to the halls of the slain.
Treasure-hunters dive into the deep:
Modern-day pirates plundering watery graves.
Steel engines and fiberglass have replaced wooden planks and oars;
With time, man’s treasures have changed.
These pint-sized pirates would have been no match
For the virile Vikings that have sailed before them.
Not worthy of a Viking funeral,
They will die in their beds, afraid in the darkness.
The Unknown Soldier
Weep not for this unknown soldier,
Who lies in a wooden manger.
His bravery shall nourish honor and glory,
Youth and innocence feast on his untold
story.
So pure this soldier’s legacy,
Who rests below the willow tree.
The lonely voice of the bugle now grieves
for the brave,
A white cross without name, the lone mark
on his grave.
Now in the ground like freedom’s seed,
He served his country well in deed.
Alas, so full this garden, this garden, this
tomb,
Alas, so full this garden, where flowers
should bloom.
Weep for the flowers under the ground,
The unknown beauty that won’t be found.
Weep for all the gardens tilled by hatred
and guns;
Weep for their mothers, fathers, brothers,
and sons.
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