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Veterans Day
| Open Poetry #39 |
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Veterans Day |
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JLHunter Senior Member
since 2006-10-08
Posts 557CA United States |
Hi, All. I wanted to have this done by Veterans Day, but life--mostly work--intruded. Better late than never...in some cases. I hope that this is one of them. John **WARNING: This is almost an epic, so plan your time accordingly!** Veterans Day The old man steps proudly, his uniform neat, But memories crowd out the bright, sunny day. And while the flags flutter and drums slowly beat, His mind is now burdened and carried away… A pall grips his soul as the foxhole is cold, And some of his best friends had died on this morn. He fights back the chills and the fear taking hold From battle sounds carried by winds whence they're borne. As brave as they come, this young man was ready. The weapon he held was a part of his hand. Shouldered and waiting, his weapon was steady; God's justice win out was his principled stand. A shadow now loomed as his senses were keen, Yet his instincts would not let him fire a round. The shadow approached, then his sergeant was seen, Although he stood tall, and not hugging the ground. "At ease with your weapon." his sergeant now called. "The Germans surrendered--we're out of this place." The young man was angry; his plans were now stalled. And all he could see was his dead friend's pained face. "Surrender" was only a meaningless word --This young, valiant man wished to fight for a friend-- Yet sounds of the battle were nevermore heard, And sadly he knew that's how this war would end. Now battered and bloodied he found his way home; His girlfriend awaited with arms opened wide. He married and loved, but his thoughts often roam To that cold, wet day when a buddy had died. He fathered two children and loved them through life, But his mind would often go back to that hole, Where his childhood ended with murderous strife, And ghosts that he saw were the lives Germans stole. A lifetime soon passed filled with his restless dreams. His friends' sacrifice always played on his mind. And only one day would give respite, it seems; Veterans Day, when he was with his own kind. The day arrived when he stood by the crosses --Row upon row, with their clean, solemn power-- Always reminding of how many losses Were counted those dark days, hour by hour. Lost in his memories, the bugler played "Taps," When the old man was jolted back to this time. He salutes the grave of a long lost best friend, As the church bells around him all start to chime. Then suddenly something of wonder draws near; A handsome young man in his battlefield greens. The old man is speechless, his memories clear; His friend has appeared, though he fears what it means. His friend snaps his hand in a quick, crisp salute, Says, "Thanks for holding this position so long. I'm sorry, my orders were that I stay mute; Yet leaving you here all alone seemed so wrong." "But your tour is up--from Earth you're relieved. We need you to help us, our ranks are deprived. As their buddies on Earth have silently grieved, New heroes who recently served have arrived." "We need you, old man, to lead a new vanguard, As heroes-to-angels is who we must train. And although we know this position is hard, We know you're the one who will never complain." The old man thought once, then saluted right back. At last he had found how to repay his crew. He'd train the new angels to keep to the track, To watch over heroes whose time isn't through. And as people watched, the old man shed a tear For all of the men who would soon cease to be. But duty was calling, his time had drawn near, To depart from this world meant his soul was free. So the man and his friend marched down the white rows --And everyone there that day still disagrees-- Old soldiers do fade when life comes to a close; The old man just faded off into the trees. Now, some people say that to this very day, When hot battlefields seem at Death's bloody door, That rounds often miss them and sail away, As laughter is heard on the breezes that soar. And what better tribute can one old man show To the memory of his best friend who died, Than to send heroes home to loved ones who wait, So rivers of sorrow will never be cried. I prefer to be a dreamer among the humblest, with visions to be realized, than lord among those without dreams and desires. -Khalil Gibran [This message has been edited by JLHunter (11-15-2006 08:09 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2006 John L. Hunter - All Rights Reserved | |||
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The Lady Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634The Southwest |
John this is so deeply touching and so well written thank you |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Simply excellent John. The detail you painted here, painstaking...and each word made it's own indelible difference. TD |
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JLHunter Senior Member
since 2006-10-08
Posts 557CA United States |
Hi, TL. Thanks for the thougthful words. This was a long write that was written to chronical one man's life from WWII to his "departure." It was to illustrate how war is Hell in all times and places...and also to say that there might be more out there than we can actually see. Love, John I prefer to be a dreamer among the humblest, with visions to be realized, than lord among those without dreams and desires. -Khalil Gibran |
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JLHunter Senior Member
since 2006-10-08
Posts 557CA United States |
Thanks, TD, for your kind words. I was at pains to illustrate this man's life properly. I wanted to do justice to the man, the veterans and the horrors of war. I hope I succeeded. John I prefer to be a dreamer among the humblest, with visions to be realized, than lord among those without dreams and desires. -Khalil Gibran |
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