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 Aug 2016 Feggyr Citack
martin
Out of two hundred men who went over the top
Only a handful came back
Jim survived, he made it home
Lucky Jim for that

He stood and watched me for a minute
As I struggled to master my task
'You'll get the hang on it'
Was his gruff but engaging remark

'Once you get over eighty,
Anything can happen you know
This time next year
I might not be here
Anytime I could go'

Within the twelve month he passed away
How right he proved to be
And since that time now and then
His words come back to me
The young soldier was crying
And his comrade lay dying
In the trenches he bled
In these trenches he is dead

Will the big guns ever cease ?
Can both sides ever find peace ?
As bullets continue to fill the sky
How many men will still die ?

No matter who everyone blames
Generals continue with their war games
They are unwilling to stop
Sending brave men over the top





copyright Chris Smith 2008
 Aug 2016 Feggyr Citack
TonyC
They heard the whistle,
necked their ration of ***,
put away photographs, letters and bibles
and wished good luck,
then over the top the lads went
They heard the deafening rat a tat tat of the machine guns,
the shells exploding
and saw their friends knees bend and fall
Onwards they ploughed
towards that deathly sound
Heart hammering,
Keep going son,  move
Many also died , bloodied in the wire,
They had gained a hundred yards
and thought that posters
in the towns never showed this
with Come lads slip across and help
and Hold up your end
and Kitchener's famous point
What had they said?
Be over by Christmas
No ****** way
The toffs comfortable in their billets
had sent them all to die, forgotten, cannon fodder
that's all and
God has his slippers on an all
A tribute to the millions who died in WW! from all sides
 Aug 2016 Feggyr Citack
Traveler
There remains no train to glory
The jackals have broken their cells
The zombies are in the mall now
The angels are cast unto hell

The brilliance of the wicked
Rule the castle of thieves
All the wars they can monger
All the innocent blood they can bleed

Corporate incentives form their new gods
The big money of freedom's speech
They locked the gates to the heavens
       And ignore the voice of the meek...
 Aug 2016 Feggyr Citack
ryn
Hermit
 Aug 2016 Feggyr Citack
ryn
I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I gather...
I analyse...
I stow away all that I've learnt.

Because when the wind would blow
and the earth wouldn't understand.
When the world would tremble,
shaken by man's ruthless hand.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I listen...
I keep...
I stockpile in the shadows.

Because in my blood exists grudge...
And my bones, weary from despair.
My skin screams exhaustion
and my body feigns to care.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I overthink...
I hide...
I hoard all my thoughts.*

Because the walls have ears
and these pages bear eyes.
What my heart truly knows...
Is that your mouth tells only lies.
I am but a lump of clay
Within the Potter's Hands
Help me to be such today
Help me understand

I am plastic. Malleable.
From the roots of stumps
For the Master's Hands available
Although I have my lumps!

He has to pound and knead me
Sprinkle me to moist refine
Mould me in my body
Mould me in my mind

Mould me in my heart
Mould me in my soul
So I won't break apart
So I can be bold!
I can use my art
To have my story told...

Sculpt me then Lord Jesus!
Do whatever it will take
Throw me on your wheel
With Force enough to break

My own thoughts and wishes
For vanity they are
My love for fame and riches
Which can only twist and scar

My love for things of "beauty"
Of worldly surmise
Give me a sense of Duty
To be useful in your eyes

You rose me from the muck and mire
You scooped me from the slime
How can I so then aspire?
Be in myself sublime?

Death, he has his clutches
This assuredly I know.
And I am but ashes

Dust to dust I go.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/30/2016
My kingdom must go
Before Your Kingdom come.

-
Give me
new morns of splendid sunshine
and clear blue skies with soft wind
humming sweetly to the timeless rhythm

Give me
fresh air with gentle whispering of breeze
to be kissed passionately and tickled playfully

Give me
quiet days sans the bustle of hectic crowds
each promising new wonders and joyous tidings

Give me
country sides with luxuriant vegetation
and rich plantation to feel partitioned off
the soot and dirt of roaring cities
    
     **Give me

     woodlands of varied flora and fauna
so rare and rich that nowhere else are seen

Give me
gardens and brick laid pavements
where there grow such lovely blooms, nodding amorous
to flirting dandies on colorful wings

Give me
running brooks and rushing streams
upon whose fertile banks tall trees and bushes green,
in singles and files grow

Give me
orchards, beautiful and fair
with fruit laden trees, so wonderful and rare

Give me
vast fields of ripening corn and paddy
where farmers joyfully gather to harvest their year’s toil

Give me
vineyards of trellised vine
with hanging clusters of grapes, green and maroon

Give me
ponds and wells of crystalline water
to quench the thirst and turn fallows into fecund lands

Give me
woods and forest tracks
where spring lingers all the year round and beyond
where birds on tree tops merrily sit and sing
whose harmonious notes in every nook and corner ring

Oh! Give me
     Nature in all ‘its primal sanities’
And souls with nicety of hearts, free of all affectations!!
Inspired by Walt Whitman's poem Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun!
Death.
I remember sitting in that room. Feeling as if the walls were going to close in around me.
That space and lapse between the ticking of the hand of the clock..from one second to the other. To the expanding of her lungs..the breaths that grew shorter and the flailing and fight of the body..begging for one more breath..as if in a fist fight with the arms of the clock..to reverse time.
Laying here, with my phone in hand..in the dark at 4:00 a.m., the backlight of the screen blaring in my eyes as I breath between sentences..ponder these memories and the plethora of thoughts and watch the cursor pulse.. as I lay one word in front of the other.
Time..is running out. Passing, even as I space these letters of the alphabet, strategically across this screen.
Love.
Reminiscing on my Mothers life and painful, agonizing passing, springs my mind and heart into action..to Love harder, live fuller and leave some sort of legacy to my children.
The one thing that she lived and taught, through the..sometimes disastrous way that she lived..was unconditional Love. There wasn't a word that passed through my lips that would cause her, to ever not love me. She was real, down to earth, tough as nails and lived through a life of surreal pain that most people couldn't even fathom.
Faith.
Fate has a way of stealing our blueprint for our life and rewriting it.
The immense, seemingly unbearable pains that come with growing and picking yourself up from one obvious failure to the next and the self doubt, confusion and hopelessness it's wrapped in, disguises itself as enough to "throw the towel in" on this life stuff.
Until the fight, stemming from faith in all things soulful arises and ignites your will to keep functioning and you pry yourself off of your pillow and try to remember that you're on borrowed time.
Purpose.
The problem with overthinking everything is that nagging, never ending thought that needs to find the reasoning behind everything..especially when it comes to those gory details and secrets about your life that nobody knows about..(or is that just my life?) Sometimes life just simply ***** and you'll never know why. As long as you can lighten up and laugh about it, you'll keep yourself out of the 51/50 category and keep on truckin', just a little stronger than before. Pull the "good" out of every wretched fragment of your story and use it to broaden your perspective and become more accepting of the people around you.

As I come to the end of this spillage of my soul onto paper, in hopes that I can dwindle down the twisting of my thoughts enough to rest..I hope that I encouraged at least one person to live deeper and love fuller, allowing all things good to stretch beyond your circumstance and be an inspiration to someone struggling.
Lead with Love.
Thoughts that race in the middle of the night and awaken you to scribble down.
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2016
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