Dedicated to the victims of Grenfell Tower*

She stands amid the buzz of metal flies:
This obelisk, memento of the dead.
The sirens crudely mimicking their cries
As pilgrims in their guilt leave much unsaid.

A once sweet hive is now an empty husk,
Her armour was to be her Achilles' heel,
And as the cold grey sky fades into dusk;
I speak not what I ought, but what I feel:

Instead of words there comes a cry of pain -
A strangled howl and heavy sobs of guilt.
What can be said when words are all in vain -
Like rain, on this gazebo that we built?

While politicians bluster “Nevermore”,
We will remember them forevermore.

The Veteran Soul lives on always.
Papa fought in the extreme cold.
Memories of you and me.
Stills his companion nightmares on battling scenes.
All those firing bullets rage on in waves of saturating hate.
Couldn't even seal his fate.
His best friends.
His very respected mates succumbed to untimely fates.
He heard within himself....
in the context of his heart...
These words saying, 'America..
America!
How I shall fight to defend your free.
Give me that enduring faith of yours ole liberty.
If I lay down my heart beats for thee.
Just don't forget I died for my mighty country.
As he heard the grenades bursting away.
He continued to run into harms way.
And then one bullet pronounced him dead.
The picture page flips to his honored grave.
His loving wife and daughter of eight.
Hold together his hero's American flag in their shared hands.
Their tears respectively fall on that precious American flag...
That flag.
That powerful receipt represented that he had died for the ideals of his homeland.
As his family walks away.
Dressed in the silhouette garb of grieving ways.
You could hear the song of 'America the beautiful.
The beautiful song permeating in the haloed whispers from his warrior's grave.
Even to this moment.
Where we honor and celebrate him and all Veterans on Veterans day.
I love you our Fallen and those still
Alive.
You are my brave Veteran Soldier Eyes.


(C) Copyrighted

Your finger was good enough
For the first of my fledgling steps
As steady and firm I held
New step seemed easier than the first
Now your hand I see reach out
From beyond reality's veil
Gently on my shoulder placed
Nudging me on to those steps
You left me to walk by myself.

Your face was good enough
For first of my fumbling doubts
Each thought seemed clearer than the last.
Illumed by the faith in your face.
Your smile  i see each starry night
Light setting my face aflame
Filling me,your spirit resolute
For each  demon you left me to face.

Your breath was good enough
Felt it warm, so close to my face
My hurts and tears seemed naught
As its warmth breathed to my being life.
Your hug now I feel in the breeze.
Its gush telling me you are here.
Feeling the joy and the pain
That you left me here to gain.

Rembrandt, you maniac!
While other guys were down at the local tavern,
drinking and playing cards,
-- or off visiting Paris --,
you were in the studio.
Long after your students had left,
there you were, slaving away.

Did your family get sick of posing?

Others painted us as we seem
-- a bit better-looking, I suppose. . . .
You painted us as we are:
proud, sorrowful, hopeful, uncertain.

Where we'd seen only ugliness you found beauty.

The Bible? You made it human:
We felt Christ's pain! Magdalene's astonishment.

You were foolish with your money,
failed to pay your debts.
We forgive you.

You were stubborn, mean, obsessed.
You loved us
only when you were painting us.
We forgive you.

You worked on your own paintings
instead of ones which might have sold at higher prices,
ones which might have paid your debts.
We forgive you.
Because your art is so incomparably beautiful
we forgive you.

A block of marble
and twenty six letters of the alphabet
etch so many young names
onto history

Wandering alone
amid the mass grave
an old woman has at last found
her only child
and with her eyes tightly shut
her trembling fingers now feel
for the mortal wound
on his ice-cold forehead

Here I kneel at the river's edge,
Gazing out at the life beyond the tear in my eye.

I can still see you sitting next to me by our log,
years ago when we shared our first picnic.

I'm remembering the way we used to run through these trees
and swim through those currents,

the scent of your jasmine perfume
following us wherever we go.

I can almost smell it now as I hang my head
and lay this bouquet upon your tear soaked resting place.

The smile that haunts me deeply
and follows me everywhere I go
The faded memory that is with me
and remains unforgiven.
This gentle touch that transcends the years
and keeps m always on my toes
This warming scent of cologne that sends a chill
and brings forth the image.
They say time has passed us by
and that I need to catch up with it all
They don’t see what it has done
and wonder who is has built me up to be.
Tonight I’ll stay home with the door ajar
and try to cope with this pain of mine
Tonight I’ll go out to grab a pint
and bury it deep inside.
There will not be a way to go back
and prevent it from ever having happened
There is nothing to be done
and this is how the world goes on.
Then I will live this numbing life
and walk with him always at my side
Then I shall stride with purpose
and overthrow the difficulties.
The smile that haunts me deeply shall
hold me true as it learns to let me go
The faded memory that is with me shall
keep me pure as it begins to be forgiven.

Emmett Smith (1921-2012)

It won't be forgotten
How you fed me
When I was hungry
Played music for me
When I was down
And we'd share a buzz
And a few blue jokes
Whenever you came 'round.
When I listen to Jerry Garcia sing
About a Mission in the Rain
You won't be forgotten
And what you've sown,
We will maintain.

In your name, we will maintain.