"saluted" poems
i like
to think that on
the flower you gave me when we
loved
the far-
departed mouth sweetly-saluted
lingers.
if one marvel
seeing the hunger of my
lips for a dead thing,
i shall instruct
him silently with becoming
steps to seek
your face and i
entreat,by certain foolish perfect
hours
dead too,
if that he come receive
him as your lover sumptuously
being
kind
because i trust him to
your grace,and for
in his own land
he is called death.
32.2k
howling black wavespounded the doomedwelshmen of steeltravesty loomed absorbing the onslaughtrelentless attackerwrong end of mountainrourkes drift, south africa brave boyo stood fastsolid in stancebattled the tideof barefoot advance singing in tunicvalley men bred fought black waves of heatin rivers of red respectful zulunot mindless marauderheld assegai highand saluted....the south wales borderer
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed.
We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads.
We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above.
Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain.
We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand.
We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize.
Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
On my way,
One day,
I met a handsome guy,
Who was on the seventh sky,
He told me I looked like a ****** ***
& with his sayings I was embraced
I cried & went to the mirror,
I asked,"Do I look good???
Am I too fatty or too slimmer??? "
Laughing at me it didn't answer,
I understood & was filled with tear,
Oh I didn't eat during day
& couldn't sleep in night,
It was like I wasn't made for this beautiful beauty filled site,
& hiding my face I went out, & stood aside...
I looked at the moon,
Jealous of his beauty I closed myself in my room...
I forgot the incident & was lost in the world of books,
No I wasn't at all focussing on my looks,
Oh after bending over backward for several months,
I got the fruitful results,
Now that handsome proud guy saluted me,
& the mirror couldn't match his eyes from me,
& now I stood in front of moon's fake light,
Asking it to ignite itself,
& be bright,
Else at his place, he will see myself!!!
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
In dazzled astonishment
She looked up from her reverie
As she heard the flap of wings overhead
And saw the flash of laser beams in her dim lit room
Before her, stood a winged seraph
A radiant silhouette with such gentleness and grace
As never beholden on any human face
With its hands raised in benediction,
It saluted Mary and said
“Blessed art thou amongst women…
……………………………………
The rest she heard in a trance.
Unable to comprehend what was said,
The girl looked up nonplussed.
Again it said, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee
And a son shall be born of thee
Whom you shall call Jesus”
In that nanosecond of a new revelation
Did Mary’s world shatter like glassware
Or did her ****** womb thrill with new life
Did she swim in the waters of joyful tidings?
Or gyrate in the sweeping swirl of tidal waves
For the girl already espoused to a man
In whose dreams his comely form had begun
Flitting in and out
Was it a moment of silent ravishment?
Or of stupefied bewilderment
Did a dagger cut through her heart?
Or did her soul take wing in flight???
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
The legend said that there was a boy in the mid 800 who begged everyday to the Sun God That his black eyes could be blue as sapphire. In Africa every person of the region had dark eyes, but he felt he wanted to have light blue eyes so someday he could go with the sky Gods and be their helper and trainee. The only requisite was to have blue or gray eyes; for them these two colors meant purity and identified the only ones who could meet them. Shmuel wanted it, but that meant he was going to go away from his house and live his family forever, because once you go and see a God you can’t return to Earth nor have contact with humans again. After years of begging to the sun, he accepted it, and turned his eyes blue as sapphire. The day he had to go was sad; all his community was in his house saying goodbye to him. Everyone since then called him “the child with the sapphires eyes”. He knew that earth and his family were history already. Before being introduced to the Gods Space he turned back his head once again and saluted with a smile all his community. Since then his mind was erased and a new Shmuel was created. Now he served these Gods, and as an apprentice he would turn to be like them in the future.
Elena Ramos
Short Fictional Story
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
AMERICA, THE BEAUTIFUL?
Were you aware that our nation opposed Haiti's revolution for democracy in the early 1800s; that our nation's war against Mexico that began in 1846 resulted in our taking half of Mexico for ourselves; that our nation defeated Spain ostensibly to liberate Cuba, but actually established a military base on the island and furtively gained de facto control of its puppet government; that our nation seized Puerto Rico, Hawaii, and Guam; that our nation had fought a brutal war to subjugate the Phillipines; that our nation had opened Japan for trade with us with threats and gunboats; that our nation created an "Open Door" policy with China to exploit it economically; that our nation engineered a revolution against Colombia to create the nation of Panama so we could build the canal through it; that our nation sent 5,000 Marines in 1926 to Nicaragua to counter their democratic revolution; that our nation in 1916 intervened in the Dominican Republic for the fourth time; that our nation in 1915 intervened in Haiti for the second time, and so on. Imperialism, not democracy, steered our nation's decisions and movements.
Did any of you learn about, let alone study extensively, any of these flagitious Ameican acts and policies as you sat and squirmed in your high school American history class? My surmise is that you did not. But I bet you were required in at least one of your classrooms sometime between 1st and 12th grade to stand at attention, as it were, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance as you saluted the flag in the corner. My riposte: What does it matter if our flags are waving, if our spirits are flagging?
Epilogue: Most importantly, never forget that it was the two evils of slavery and genocide that propelled our nation into what once was the most influential nation on Earth.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 8:52 PM UTC
Rise and shine, rise and shine,
Sweet sunshine
Saluted the stars as one by one they disappeared.
Rise and shine,rise and shine
Sweet sunshine,
Sang the moon lovingly,
Romance time is over,
The trio met fleetingly at dawn.
Rise and shine,rise and shine
Sweet sunshine,
Paint the sky in pink and gold,
Ablaze it with your brilliance,
Fill the hearts of the beholder with passion,
Let a new day begin,
Bring the paradise to earth,
Be a new page in someone's life,
A poet's delight,
A comfort for a sad soul,
Hope and an invitation to brighten someone's life.
Rise and shine, rise and shine,
Sweet sunshine.
7/10/2019
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 11:11 AM UTC
XXVI
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—
all the exciting detail
of the chase
and the escape, the error
the flash of genius—
all to no end save beauty
the eternal—
So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful
for this
to be warned against
saluted and defied—
It is alive, venomous
it smiles grimly
its words cut—
The flashy female with her
mother, gets it—
The Jew gets it straight—it
is deadly, terrifying—
It is the Inquisition, the
Revolution
It is beauty itself
that lives
day by day in them
idly—
This is
the power of their faces
It is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd is
cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail
permanently, seriously
without thought
1.6k
I grew up knowing we are a broken race,
A race that changes smiles to frowns on everyone's face,
A race of pity, a race of self destruction,
A race of slaves, a race of savages.
I grew up knowing that we are the poison to the sea,
Acid to the earth
And pollution to the air.
I grew up embarassed of my colour,
Embarassed of my Nation,
Embarassed of my Continent...
I guess I didn't know better
That one day I will discover of our Greatness.
I discovered that our forefathers walked all four corners of the Earth.
Let me rephrase that...
Our forefathers were acknowledged in all corners of the Earth.
I discovered we were once tutors of the world,
We were once Astronomers of the stars,
Travellers of Mother Earth,
Doctors to the sick
And Founders of great kingdoms like Cambodia, parts of Egypt, America etc...
We were founders of some of the world's oldest civilisations,
The olmec vivilization.
African child, how far have you fallen?
I get so much joy and pride when I look back,
Back beyond the slave's era,
Further before the missionaries,
The beauty I see.
I am overwhelmed by the greatness of our Africanism.
Where did it all go wrong?
We have such great history
But it all sounds like a myth or a mystery
Especially when I say that we once walked tall and high in the foreign lands of America,
Not as slaves but as residents and rulers.
Our history shouts of our greatness,
It tells us that the first man to be saluted as Emperor of China
Was the son of the soil, the son of Africa.
Our history tells a story of our existence in India,
Our great kingdoms in Cambodia and Scotland.
Our history even goes back further to the ancient times of the Bible.
It speaks of ****** a great man in the eyes of the Lord,
The father of Cush, the founder of Cushite, a black nation.
It saddens me to see us disrespect our elders like this
For they hold our rich history.
They hold the bridges we have forgotten,
They hold the secrets of our Nation.
They were there when mama Africa gave birth to us
And we will weep when mama Africa swallows them up.
We will not cry for they have gone
But we will cry for the knowledge we have buried.
If you don't believe me ask the sage Ntate Credo Mutwa.
Wake up Africa. Wake up and Rise...
Rise African Child!
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC
I wanted to once more
return on Home; to stand
upon the front-porch, hand-crafted
by a Supreme knowledge of your skin.
To ignite the necessary ember to fuel
the fire behind your eyes; to linger
in the door frame as a way to embolden
that birthmark I always encouraged upon
your, half-swollen heart.
I wanted to Unconsciously return again to a singular
dependence on your five-o-clock laugh
or upon the fact that my ******* always saluted the
way your *** got zipped up in those Levi's, all the
way up, to your Blue Collar.
I haven't been able to
shake off your Novelty; travelling
the World and devouring boys
like you, in stale rooms and motionless autos,
where their skin made me Itch, and left nothing but
bed bug souvenirs to nestle in my brain. *(It's not their
fault that lavender and cotton, never
smelled as good on a girl like me)*
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
I SALUTED a nobody.
I saw him in a looking-glass.
He smiled-so did I.
He crumpled the skin on his forehead,
frowning-so did I.
Everything I did he did.
I said, "Hello, I know you."
And I was a liar to say so.
Ah, this looking-glass man!
Liar, fool, dreamer, play-actor,
Soldier, dusty drinker of dust-
Ah! he will go with me
Down the dark stairway
When nobody else is looking,
When everybody else is gone.
He locks his elbow in mine,
I lose all-but not him.
1.5k
Today I saw a man
He was sitting by the road
I couldn't see his face
But, his feelings...well, they showed
All of his belongings
Were beside him in a cart
I wanted to approach
But, my feet just wouldn't start
Today I saw a man
Picking butts up from the street
I crossed the road to pass him
And our paths, they didn't meet
He was searching in the gutter
For tobacco for a smoke
I didn't venture near him
Just in case he spoke
Today I saw a man
Sleeping in the park
It was early in the morning
It wasn't even dark
He was covered with a jacket
With a paper by his head
He slept just like a child
He looked like he was dead
Today I saw a man
In fatigues and baseball cap
Saluting at the cenotaph
I felt my heart fall to my lap
He saluted ramrod perfect
As just a soldier can
today, I learned a lesson
Today...I saw a Man
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
*where cello was semi-colon, where violins (always plural, no one's weeping or playing to beg) are colon, where Bach's (church pianos) organs / castrato livers kidneys hearts... where comma was the trebling silver triangles... where full-stop was the composer turning into a conductor, to detach himself from the act of composition and into a drama, a staged drama, a Sisyphus ram against the stable coordinate of perpetuated slam dunking bullseye for only a: knock knock. who's there? knock knock nowhere. nowhere where? here. where what? knock knock open the ******* door!*
i lived to the age of 70,
i loathed hating people,
and i loathed loving them
hence the reason i never married,
i could have lived alone
but the monetary system absolved that
wish...
tribalism would never give us
mozart's symphony no. 40 because
we would be exchanging favours
instead of monetary funds...
via solipsism and the ugly synonym autism...
****** instead of wives... well, there you go...
her eager libido explains much,
as a teenager ****** eager (rhyme rhyme rhyme)
explains her escapism into outliving man;
her satan's bargain truly did favour hair,
oh **** her, while he died a splendid death
aged approx. 30, she with a **** salute
saluted him: i'm worth 90 autumns!
yeah, 90 autumns and arthritis.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—
all the exciting detail
of the chase
and the escape, the error
the flash of genius—
all to no end save beauty
the eternal—
So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful
for this
to be warned against
saluted and defied—
It is alive, venomous
it smiles grimly
its words cut—
The flashy female with her
mother, gets it—
The Jew gets it straight—it
is deadly, terrifying—
It is the Inquisition, the
Revolution
It is beauty itself
that lives
day by day in them
idly—
This is
the power of their faces
It is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd is
cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail
permanently, seriously
without thought
1.4k
The young boy walked on through the park
His mother close behind
But then he took off swiftly, though
She knew that she would find
Him standing at the Cenotaph
Saluting, ramrod straight
He did it everytime they passed
No matter what the date
He knew that is was honorable
A place to honur those
Who died defending what was right
And every time he froze.
Each time they went to ride the swings
He ran ahead to stand
He did it, and she was proud he did
Though he didn't understand
A silent sentinel...piegeon perch
Memorialized the dead
There were pigeons all around it
And two piegeons on the head
But Billy didn't mind the birds
In fact he liked to say
The piegeons are the soldier men
Who can no longer play
He always walked around all sides
Always looking for the names
Of his father and his uncle
Bill and Randy James
They were taken by an IED
Though that meant nothing to Bill
But each time that he found their names
He then saluted and stood still
He knew that they would not return
Although gone, their names were here
He saluted them each time he came
Of the pigeons, he'd no fear
This silent, solemn cenotaph
Was a place he loved so much
Although he couldn't see his father
His name plate he could touch
He knew that his saluting
Made his mother's heart strings sing
After his silent hello to his dad
He could go play on the swing...
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Gloriously unbound you grow ravenously,
Spreading your roots as far as the earth can bare you reach limits unseen,
A survivor despite the climate your radiance is saluted,
Such beauty in the unrecognized you thrive,
Sparkle in silence young wildflower because your time is near,
To be adorned in April showers and masked in summer's sun,
Magnificent is your journey and true is your existence.
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 2:20 PM UTC
We **** by pushing a button.
WE DIE RUNNING FOR COVER.
We are fighting for our country.
WE ARE FIGHTING FOR A COUNTRY
Our sons fear deployment.
OUR CHILDREN FEAR BOMBARDMENT.
We bury our dead in the national cemetery.
WE DISCOVERED A MASS GRAVE.
Our war is raising the national deficit.
OUR MARKETS HAVE NO FOOD FOR SALE.
We proudly display our flag.
WE'VE BEEN ARRESTED FOR DISPLAYING OUR FLAG.
Our mothers grieve for their sons.
OUR PEOPLE GRIEVE FOR THEIR VILLAGES.
When will our soldiers return?
I WATCHED MY HOUSE BURN.
Our son came home in a coffin on a plane.
WE BURIED A PIECE OF FLESH THAT WE GAVE A NAME.
We saluted the soldiers marching in uniform.
OUR SOLDIERS DRESS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.
We carefully weighed the costs and benefits.
WE DECIDED THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOSE.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
What’s Your Water
*If you talk to Wallace J. Nichols, Ph.D., a marine biologist and the author of Blue Mind, a book about the physical and psychological benefits of water, for long enough,
he’ll eventually ask you*,
***what’s your water?
And as it turns out, nearly everyone has an answer.***
<>
Having lived longer
than I had a right to expect,
through decades of lost years, pain imbued an attitudinal of:
‘I do not ****** care,’
find myself perplexed now by my near
escapes, death misses, graceful landings,
and now,
the fortune tellers ply me with
predictive prescription possibilities
of a good many more!
So I write this missive,
mine own “Guide to the Perplexed.”
for a longest miserable
drove me to deep despair,
and even the littlest do was a wasn’t undone,
to insure any extension, even hurry up a clusterfk,
and here I am
yet, wander-in-g & wonder-in-g,
Why, what
accidents of fortune reversal,
made my prior life a rehearsal
for a hopeful long end run,
before a Mahomes miracle touchdown
Knowingly
looking for the X Fsctor,
discovered that the solution was
W2
W squared)
where W is a
(Woman,Water) multiplier
Found a woman who
lived by waterways,
upon island bodies and seas of rivers
that led to
this little island that
gave me
the solitude unsolicited
to see inside my
history
leaving me with
no imperative imperial resources to resist,
but to make it
just one day more,
to let the celestial sun
celebrate a new daily saluted calculus,
Of
*the sum total of
every grain of water
in this world
evaporated to be rebirthed
in a million raindrops
just like me and
poetry*
writ over the spring & summer of 2024
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
i only went in for the chocolate fountain
not because i was hungry
i just wanted to stare at it
the velvety mahogany
liquid polyurethane oozing
i stuck my hand in
to feel it
warm and loving
embracing every pore
and thats when they grabbed me
chocolate dripping from each digit
onto a magenta floral pattern
adorning the space beneath
the feet of the sheep
head long
dragged
gazing above me
toward gaudy chandeliers
with the clanging and luminous oscillation
of one armed bandits
secure in my peripherals
i was ejected
lifting myself
i left a very ****** looking hand-print
saluted the floor security
scowling in my vacinity
and tasted my finger
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
The old man stood there feebly
Beside the crowded street
As the Color Guard came marching proudly by.
Old Glory, she was waving
As he graciously saluted,
And tear drops started falling from his eyes.
His granddad fought in Italy,
His dad against the Germans,
And he was in Viet Nam as a boy,
Everywhere that they had battled
In fox hole or in valley,
They sacrificed their lives
For that Old Glory.
The old man stood there thinking
About how they fought for freedom,
Not only ours, but folks in other lands,
And how the legacy of valor
Flowed through the blood of family
And he prayed for his son in desert sands.
The parade had finally ended
And the Color Guard had passed him,
And he sat upon the grass in solemn thought.
The old man looked around him
At the people with their laughter,
And he was proud for all the battles
He had fought.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
When they burry me, remember my feet
Which trekked every step on broken streets
Felt the sands course through the toes in heat
Through the winters snow and the icy sleet
Tip toed at night, in the shadows, discrete
And in the day stomped to the beat
Carried me to a love so sweet
I beg of you, remember my feet
When they burry me, remember my knees
Which cushioned the flips and falls of the trapeze
Held up my frame with the greatest ease
And never knelt to anything in displease
Sprang up in the summer’s breeze
Survived through the winters freeze
And only bent to the love I wished to please
I beg of you, remember my knees
When they burry me, remember my hips
That were there for all my trips
Danced and shook for tips
Witness the beauty of an eclipse
Helped me stay balanced in all my slips
Swung side to side on moonlit strips
My love, who so tenderly grips
I beg of you, remember my hips
When they burry me, remember my hands
Which toiled and worked in foreign lands
Saluted in honorable commands
Showed knowledge that still expands
Gestured my souls demands
Conveyed a message that understands
Maintained a love that stands
I beg of you, remember my hands
When they burry me, remember my chest
Where my heart beat without rest
Gave me bravery in every quest
Allowed me to pass every test
Grew for those oppressed
Out front when I progressed
Where my love, became expressed
I beg of you, remember my chest
When they burry me, remember my head
Smart enough to help me earn my bread
Heard in passing, everything said
Looked upon the horizon spread
Felt the pain, when my body bled
Kept my body fed
Laid next to my love in bed
I beg of you, remember my head
When they burry me, remember my soul
How it took others on an emotional stroll
Made me conscious of my body toll
Gave me purpose, a position role
Appreciated everything in its whole
The spirit world where it patrolled
My love, whose heart it stole
Above all, I beg of you, remember my soul
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
he howled about the best minds of his generation
being lost, but I am not sure they were ever found
though I once lapped up his words like a cat with the sweet cream
or a ravenous dog licking the bottom of his bowl
after a cold wet fast--yep, a dog, like that
and who ever called us the dogs of war?
canines don’t know **** about war: the waiting,
the planning, the measuring, the murdering
they only know fear and what it tastes like to win
what it sounds like to lose, but they didn’t choose
they didn’t have a moral dilemma when fur and teeth and flesh
became a hot blur a la ****** cur, we,
with our “best minds” he thought were festering
were duped only by ourselves, by our desire to believe
the simple sweet lies rather than the shredding shedding truth
who could we blame? Walter Cronkite? Norman Mailer?
John Wayne, Nixon or Peter Pan?
yes, he howled; his howling wasn’t that
of the wolf at the moon, revealing an eternal hunger for a full belly
but a desperate audible gasp for one honest line, one
affluent aphorism before he slipped into the abyss
I won’t give it to him, because I was one of the dogs of war
not pretending to be wolf like he, not lamenting the loss
of great minds, whatever the **** those are
I was washing the blood from my paws and snout
trying to forget it came from some mother’s son
trying to silence the screaming of the other pups
when they fell prey to my razor sharp teeth
given to me by the state, honed to perfection
not by a washing of my brain, but a heart that lusted for the ****
long before I saluted my first flag, long before I swelled
with drunken pride at the bugler’s song, or marched
in cadence with the deadly drums,
he howled, but I didn’t hear an imploring sound
when they lowered me into the godforsaken ground
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
my mouth and your lovely pink lips
the way your eyes sparkled
and the groan that escaped me
in one slice of time
when pulling away from you hurt
the mischievous feeling tingling
through my body and my long hair
the little tiny freckles on the side
your beautiful face , so inviting
my lies that echoed in your mind
when you asked me what my secret was
my first kiss , yes you though that
i didnt have the heart
or the will really
to tell you who i am
so i played along with your thoughts
i kissed you
the way that leaves one thinking
it was the only thing in the world worth doing
like you were all that was left of me
the moon , our talking friend ,saluted us
the water
the glorious sensation it sent
it was almost within us
the moon in the middle
and our love everywhere but there
non love and non felt
nights and talks and sneaking around
diamonds and flowers, surprises in my skin
soft and rock hard
that's what we were made of
in our endless night
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
For Three years we had been used as slaves,
since surrendering to the Japanese.
We’d been starved, beaten and abused
and lived in filth and misery.
We’d heard they planned to **** us all
once it was clear they’d lose the war.
We’d lived in fear, like Damocles,
waiting for the day Japan would fall.
Then came the news of Victory
and our tormentors disappeared.
More eager, then, to save themselves
Than carry out the order we had feared.
Beneath my bunk a treasure hid,
concealed there from the Japanese.
It was saved from the fall of Singapore,
then passed through several hands to me.
We struck down their flag, the rising sun,
for we were sure their sun had set.
We replaced it with the Stars and Stripes,
Around that banner we rallied yet.
Hearts filled with pride, we stood as men
and saluted the red white and blue.
We were like scarecrows dressed in rags,
but we knew that this ordeal was through.
Our air force dropped us food supplies
and shortly after we entrained.
We’d made a bonfire of the camp
to consume the memory of our pain.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC