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Xan Abyss Nov 2014
I just wanted to tell you
I just wanted to say
That I miss you like hell
and happy veteran's day
I hope you sleep well
And that you're in a good place
I just wanted to tell you
but you're so far away
A short poem about my #1 veteran.
I was young.
Paralyzed by the way the phone rung like church bells.
Picking it up to say goodbye was frightening.
My beautiful world casted in lightening that night.
World War Two looked easy the way he fought his last fight.
Walking the hospital floors was almost impossible.
Each step was lifting lead shoes.
There's too much of my heart to lose.
I never knew that would be goodbye.
The words from your last breath to reach my ears,
I still hold them dear.
“I love you” made a million tears.
You're gone.
I know you never meant to leave me, but I feel neglected.
“He's in a better place.” Ran through my mind and off my lips like a broken record.
The song selected as carefully as he picked out words from his vocal chords.
He always knew just what to say.
I tried convincing myself it was going to be okay.
But I'm no liar.
I was never okay after they had cut off his life support wires.
Heaven was quick to take him in.
It hadn't occurred to me until his wake.
I promised that day I would not shed any tears, I was as strong as him.
We were too alike, that night I sobbed my hardest.
He left behind his tools and sawdust, to me it looked like stardust.
For days my stomach wouldn't settle.
I could never be comfortable on my own.
Surrounded by people in black, hugging me so tight.
It wasn't enough to stop the poison in my veins of feeling alone.
A day in hell was brighter than this funeral night.
I was too young.
The fist time I had seen my grandmother cry.
Right before my own two eyes.
Her heart was with him, I seen both die that week.
The adults thought I was too young to see the truth.
They were too old to know I had already left my youth.
I held a deep breath hoping not to break as I reach his casket,
As I looked at his face one last time for good I collapsed.
The breath released all at once, hysterically crying.
In my entire life, nobody had ever seen me so upset.
Years pass more years and not a day goes by.
Today I feel the same as the first.
My memories are cursed.
Everyone assumes my past was good.
They won't understand that dark childhood.
Bubblegum and candy was nothing like my tainted blood.
I collapsed at his casket.
I never got back back on my feet.
The sadness hardened in my heart.
To this day I still wake with tears like concrete.
Thoughts of him scatter like broken glass in a million parts.
There's no repair, only pain.
The tears are the last thing I have left from him so I'll proudly wear them.
Reliving my most frightening nightmares in order to stay sane.
At 82 he got cancer in the left lung.
We were all too young.
WritinginStars Nov 2014
Our flag hanging high
In the morning sky
Showing red white and blue
Symbolizing freedom for me,
And freedom for you

Today we honor
The brave men
That have fought to protect our country
Again and again

We owe it to them
These heroes called soldiers
Who fought for our country
And stood strong like a boulder
To protect America
The land of the free
Home of our brave men and women
We honor today every veteran
r Nov 2014
Here, and over here -
The fortunate sons

Those who made it home
To fields and hills of native tongue
In the soil their people toiled
- They listen quietly when we come


There, and over there -
Beneath crossed lines too many

Still - they man the trenches
Along the Marne and Somme
Below the woods of Belleau
And the forest of Argonne

No sonnets in a foreign language
Rendered where they languish -
The distant rest far and away
In a cold November grave


We should remember
Here and there
The old lie -

And the young.

r ~ 11/11/14
In memory of poet
Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)
and all who gave.

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month
Francie Lynch Nov 2014
Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
To the fallen and free.

— The End —