what were the means by which
they came to wear a uniform
it is meaningless now
what was the color of their skin
in what manner did they speak
what was their music
what place was home
all that made them who they were
by why they are gathered
wearing that uniform
standing in ranks
standing for their fellow
warrior beside them
giving to the final breath
for the most precious
gifts they themselves
had been given
whether family was
10,000 miles away
or next to them in a hole
in the dirt
so close each could feel
the others pounding heart
they are in ranks still
at hundreds more
and unseen graves in
jungles and mountains
all around the world
ranks that will stand till
the earth itself changes
Written first for Memorial Day less than two weeks past. But I felt it appropriate for the 75th anniversary of D-Day as well.
Carry my prayer
From this earthly place
Through time and space
To your infinite grace
An angel said "write".
Here’s to the dark clouds forming
And the waves crashing
To the sirens calling
And the fearful losing hope
Here’s to the blood lose
And to the salty tears
To the mountains roaring
And to the lonely graves
Here’s to the pill poppers
And to the Henny drinkers
Let’s not forget the loveless
And to the broken temples
Here’s to my dreams in hell
And to my fears in heaven
Here’s to me
For I am lost
And will never be found
“You cannot hold it, but it will cradle you.
You cannot see or touch it, but when contact comes,
You will see me, hold me, as in the days of your youth,
When you loved me best,
And I, you.”
From: Seven New Poems for Seven Days #2: Hover
... by Nat Lipstadt
in memoriam to memories:
for Miriam and Nat
reading each thought numerous ticks of days,
imbibe the silent of the silence
hanging from the rafters this wilderness roof;
grayed heartwood walls that separate
fractals of inseparable distances ― celebrations
the roads taken ― memories of those left behind
at the side of the mile untrodden
Congregated love and sorrow’s spoken words
scribed on paper bark touchstones ―
etched watermarks of perpetual tides
patina the afterglow of life's ebb and flow,
traces of everything and naught can ever fill
Experiencing intimate moments immemorial;
the whispers of living pulse still murmurs
in the gentle breeze between the gathered words of heart
breathing deeply ― a rush of systemic truth
born in the wholly sacred blood bequeathed
A soul outside the lines ponders ―
the sum whole of a life well lived;
coming to understand, although
all might not see the same light shine:
there’s a place one day we’ll return
we found along the way
because one day will come by here …
harlon rivers ... Memorial Day weekend ... May, 2018
Take heed, you great Forty-Four!
Steady your steed and draw fire from
great old Romans of Constantinople!
Bring hell, you demons, Forty-Four!
Carry your lances and splinter your shields
for the hour calls on you for battle most noble!
Ride thunder, you swift Forty-Four!
Leave your foes' hearts aching and trembling;
and meld beast and man and steel into one!
Feast hearty, O hungry Forty-Four!
For God's hands smite your puny foes
long before the long march has begun!
Strike hard, you mighty Forty-Four!
Into the fray your swords shall ******;
for all blades unsheathed shall taste blood!
Weary not, O fearless Forty-Four!
The hour grows dark, and you are laden;
and all rage will burst and carnage will flood!
Be still, you silent Forty-Four!
Hear the tremors that rumble and breathe
for the clamor for justice shall be served!
Rest well, our great Forty-Four!
Lest many forget, you ring through the eons;
for the freedom we have is undeserved!
For the fallen forty-four SAF commandos in the Mamasapano clash. Rest well—you have done your duty
Will you tell me what it's like
up there in the sky?
I want to know where
the angels learn how to fly.
I promised you I wouldn't cry
because you said it'd be alright.
but I let one slip away
in the cover of the night.
I want your voice again.
Please.. just once more?
Give me a sign
So I can stop being sore.
Why am I so selfish
that I want you to stay here?
God needs a drummer too
But it's just.. that you were so near.
I wish I could have fixed you
and made your pain leave
but I cried and blamed myself
forgetting how to believe.
But I don't want you to cry for me
I want you happy up there.
And when it's my turn to join you
save me a song for us to share.
An old memoriam poem for a friend that passed much too quickly. Still thinking of you Zalman, almost 10 years later.
Keep missing her love I am always,
Richter scale failed during those days,
In the ones that earthquake struck,
Poor me - I sank in her crooked love,
I'm a man simple to stupidity's extent.
I tried so hard only to end up faithless,
Should love ever cross my way again?
Drooling over an apparent innocence,
Electric shocks I'll always remember,
Again I know she won't fall from grace,
D**eepening is this sorrow in my cage.
My HP Poem #1648
A poet upon his or her death " Does Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", for they have something to share with future generations through their poetry.
Robert Frost "When faced with two roads diverged in a yellow wood he took the one less traveled by and that made all the difference."
Was William Blake laid to rest under A Poison Tree? Or was he saying that we are like poison to our enemies? One beauty concerning poetry is that it can be left up to the interpretation of the reader. Even if it was written to mean one thing the readers can discover several possible meanings to the poem like discovering jewels each time it is read.
Perhaps lets for fun imagine" The Raven", giving the eulogy for Edgar Allan Poe, and talking about his life and the loves that inspired his poetry especially Poe's beloved" Annabel Lee" and "Lenore. "The Raven" proceeded to close his eulogy with the words " Nevermore".
Maybe when it was time for William Shakespeare to be laid to rest while dressed up in his Sunday best. His poem " Fear No More" could have been read leaving not one dry eye as many fans cried for a great poet and playwright had died. A big comfort to his fans is that his work is forevermore immortalized in print for future generations to enjoy. As Dylan Thomas best stated " And Death Shall Have No Dominion" because the poets words still live on in print to be read and enjoyed and discovered by many generations to come. The poems that a poet writes are there legacy that they leave for future generations.
Check out the classic poems referenced above: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas and Death Shall Have no Dominion, also by Dylan Thomas. The Road not Taken by Robert Frost. A Poison Tree by William Blake. The Raven, Annabel Lee, and Lenore, by Edgar Allen Poe. Fear No More by William Shakespeare. I had been thinking about this in memoriam idea for the last 3 to 4 years I finally got it done in time for Memorial Day. I hope you enjoy it. Please be inspired to leave a lasting poetic legacy for future generations to come.