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Passions in Poetry

Cursed Immortal

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John Yaws
Senior Member
since 10-09-1999
Posts 865

0 posted 11-02-1999 10:28 PM       View Profile for John Yaws   Email John Yaws   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions   Click to visit John Yaws's Home Page   View IP for John Yaws

Cursed Immortal

Time is of the essence only in this mortal life,
With decisions seeming pressing, and days with trouble rife.
But alas to us immortals, time is but a drudge
And what to you is fleeting, to us those seconds trudge.

I was there when Adam wakened in God's likeness long ago
And I saw the work at Babel, workmen rushing to and fro.
I walked the Hanging Gardens, in Babylon so grand,
Saw the pyramids of Egypt being built upon the sand.

I saw the balmy Med, you know, become a Roman lake,
I walked the hills of Athens, it's beauty to partake;
I marched with Ceasar's legions, into every land and clime
And forefront of each battle, you would see this face of mine.

I have fought the hordes of Mongols, I have fought barbaric swine,
I have coughed and bled my life away at least a hundred times.
I have frozen in the Northlands, I have borne the desert heat
And face to face in battle, the Burmans I did meet.

I have sailed the raging waters, whilst a hurricane did blow,
With hell aragin' o'er me, and a briny grave below.
I have heard the groan of timbers, I have felt the vessel shake,
As we took her round the Horn, when I sailed with Francis Drake.

I was there with valiant Pickett, as we tried to take that hill,
As the flower of the Southland, their precious blood did spill.
I heard the screams of dying, I smelled the stench of death
As brave men all around me were gasping their last breath.

I saw the bearded oldsters, being put in shallow graves,
Beside the callow youngsters, who had never had to shave.
I was there when Teddy R., led the charge up San Juan Hill,
In a forest glen in Belgium, my life blood I would spill.

I have fought the steamy jungles, and walked through deadly towns
In a land once known for freedom, now for violence renown.
I have known a thousand comrades, and half a hundred loves
Who are watching, cheering for me, in that grandstand up above.

So I will ply my trade, friend, as long as I have breath,
For my business is to soldier, my commodity is death.
How long? I've asked that often, a weary way I've trod,
But the answer is not mine, friend, the One who knows is God.

© Copyright 1999 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved
Member Seraphic
since 08-22-99
Posts 23002

1 posted 11-02-1999 10:37 PM       View Profile for Denise   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Denise

A sad truth, brilliantly portrayed.


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