Page Seven


                                  In The Shade Of Orange
           In the Sixties,our troops were sent to a foreign land.
           My brothers and I went off with a wave of our hand.
                We were all vowing to be the defending band,
                the protectors making a great freedom stand.
                 It became a long ,drawn hideous  war game,
                 the one needing defending having my name.
                     Thinking the cards had been stacked,
                       for vigilence, not one of us lacked.
                   What we were fighting for, you must see,
                  were the very lives of my brothers and me.
               Yes,we went to Nam, and took a mighty stand,
                poured our brothers blood into a foreign land.
                        Searching through leafless jungles,
                       hearing  in the distance the rumbles
                         Of those unseen overhead planes
                           that sprayed the chemical rains.
                         Through the hills and rice paddies
                            and the blazing napalmed trees
                           ah,interesting what hindsight sees,
                             and it sure does not please me!
                     Home ,decades later, that`s where we be,
                    still watching out for my brothers ,plus me,
                   just fighting to survive in this land of the free.
                   gonna live forever... if Agent Orange lets me.

                                    ©Faye Sizemore 2/19/03



That Other Place
Down through all the mourning years
Fortunately, I have come to find,
Untouched by echoes of recurring fears
This special corner in my mind
Where demons do not come to play
And plague my nights or fret my days
With memories of that bygone fray.
One day, I heard a quiet voice say:
In this place gloom may not exist;
This is for those who did not die.
Theres no need to sit and list
Comrades for whom we have to cry.
Savor the guitar lightly strummed,
Join in the games of pickup ball,
Or snatches of song softly hummed
While we laze on a sandbagged wall.
Glittering stars in a black velvet sky,
Blaze like gems in the tranquil night,
And breezes soft as a babys sigh
Bring no danger with the fading light.
Brief those moments may have been
But they did indeed exist.
There was time to spend with friends,
Untouched by wars inhuman fist.
So, take the time to search them out
From where you have them hidden away;
Theyre still there, without a doubt
Ready to bring some joy to your day.
Look deep within, Im sure youll find,
Green and bright and dappled with sun,
That peaceful corner in your mind
I know that God made more than one.

© 2/23/2002 Thurman P. Woodfork


Military Travels


He wallows, as a wild beast, in the living room of civilization!
And with rhetoric worthy of Hitler and Stalin,
calls out and faces down the world - they who refuse to understand.
A glint of evil in the eye of the demigod who holds the rifle;
A rifle with a muzzle that, at the same time, he aims at the naïve world,
and at the people imprisoned in his personal dominion.
Which nations are fearful of him? All are!
But sighted nations see that he demands a ransom be paid in moral blindness.
Blackness oozes from his heart and from the lands of these ancient people
whom he holds hostage against the golden contracts of the morally bankrupt.
An Eagle and a Lion shall direct sanity in this insane world.
Peace and Freedom will reign again in this ancient land,
And Babylon shall once more arise in this cradle of civilization.
But those not willing to pay the cost for freedom and righteousness,
shall accrue the cost of destruction
and that destruction shall be theirs and their childrens.
©Anthony W. Pahl
01 March, 2003

The Revetment





           I slept with those at Shiloh
             I listened to them pray
       I walked on both sides of the line
               Dividing blue and gray


          I touched them in the trenches
             Amidst the cannon roars
       Would that it just could have been
               The war to end all wars


               I was there at Normandy
                At every row of hedge
         I had my arms around them there
                    At the oceans edge


               On the reservoir of Chosin
             I sought to soothe their souls
         I wept for them as they withdrew
           Their bodies claimed by cold


        I gave comfort there at Khe Sanh
              And at Hamburger Hill
         And I freely give it yet today
           To those who need it still


          In the darkness of the desert
           When they were put to test
           If someone only called to me
               I held them to my breast


              Then or now war or peace
                He sent me to this task
             Out of sight but easy reach
                 To any who would ask


          Just know that I am always there
               Beyond the ring of light
          A never-sleeping, silent sentry
               To still the raging night


                 ©Randy E. Richmond
                        June 4, 2001


Randys Rhymes and Ramblings


The Sound of Silence

by Gary Jacobson

In the silence of innocent lambs

Warriors slip in and out of combat jams

Comes a hush after battle's raucous crush

Run its fiery course adrenaline's rush

Deadening noise where silence reigns

Caught in stifled sleep the living feigns

Boys listening in dark and dusky night

Throat strangled tight

Painfully pay heed to creeping shadows

Men go deathly silent in agonizing throes...

Fill my silence with dry tears

In the night of a thousand fears

Giving ear to men coming to kill

Shedding blood their greatest thrill

Spurring on the wild beast of war

Riding to destroy all that comes before

Hot hatreds voices fill

Over forested rock and rill

Filling combatants silent void

Trying thoughts of death somehow to avoid...

Silence on the lonesome night hangs

Thoughts of home but empty pangs

Displayed in light of a killing moon

Beating on weary heartstrings a throbbing tune

Rubbing hot spurs up and down trembling spines

Shards cold as death confines

Shooting shadows of silence defining

Bullets cutting through forests adventuring

Proudly by patriotic duty sought

Determined to find a souls destined spot...

Quietly in the dust I die

Daring not in the midst of enemies to cry

Bearing a thousand deaths in silence

Paying at long last the Devil's penance

Laid down a body red by bloody fever flushed

Neath solemnly sacred ground so still, so hushed

Grisly maw agape in death's primal scream

Gone on to fight with heaven's first team...

Offended eyes open wide, searching forever

Pleading still in silence, forget me never...

©3/7/03 Gary Jacobson

More poems by Gary Jacobson


Blue Star Mothers

Mothers... do weep...
but your faithfulness keep
You raised your sweet children...
You raised them to reconize a wrong
to always defend and protect those not strong
to seek the truth in this cruel world
Now about them the battles may swirl
They have their promises to keep
Mothers ....with you we weep.......

When war does rage
recorded again on historys` page
and Death counts its` toll
pray your children are not on its role
This matters above everything
for when it is done and freedom does ring
Mothers, your praises they will sing
But for now its` price is so steep
Mothers....for you we weep......

©Faye Sizemore 3/15/03



For unto the beaches, there came a sound, of men marching.

Lines of men, marching to the sound of a single drum.

Against all odds, they beat the odds, their task is complete.

Greeted by a banner that waves, to welcome them home.

©2003 Elizabeth Colbert



Iraq Revisited

Saddam,I remember you .....and the death bell
.......... your hand did toll from the steeple...
...................I heard it sound for the Iraqi people...
........who died in your manufactured Hell.............

Phases run through my mind..........
Pieces of old frozen in time

Peace keepers.............armed truth seekers.......
................arms inspectors..........flaming oil wells
...................battles in sandy Hells....

peace did come.....under the blazing sun.....
..................but a deed was left undone.........

© 3/18/03 Faye Sizemore



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