Mirages being so common
in the desert
through the heat, and swirling sand,
I thought I saw a line of tanks in a foreign land
I saw the Sons of Uncle Sam
marching off in search of Saddam,
wind whipping banners of Red,White and Blue
faces looked so determined,so very true,
making their way to give the Tyrant his due
In the desert night, burns many
an oil well,
their flames bespeaking of the fires of Hell
In the streets of Baghdad the sirens do wail,
all hearing of those who will prevail
Beyond the mirage............ I see me...
helpless,gazing, with tears on
my face... anew...
praying for safe returns when they are through...
©Faye Sizemore 3/21/03
Yet Another Quest
My friend, I
think I may see,
an old warrior`s face,
in the twilight, a darker side of thee
A side that could tell of war`s
an unspoken river that still flows,
for you have been there and learned it well
Is there a quickening
in your heart
because you know the story so well,
for long ago ,you chose a soldier`s part
you pray for today will return
to a grateful America`s open arms,
to a Heroes Welcome that they have earned
and others like you ,stand here to ensure
that they SHALL be welcomed home with PRIDE,
that no sneers will they ever
have to edure
On your face shows fierce pride
of these young sisters and brothers
and pain, for the ones who
Thrust your old memories into the night,
for there is much to be done
You cannot falter in the coming
The young fight today for freedom,you see,
.............and the respect of........
such as thee..........
©Faye Sizemore 3/25/03
Standing At Reason...With Head Bowed
watched them gear up and march away,
carried on transports and planes to the battle dome
Treasure the sight of their
wave as they left that day
Some of those brave soldiers won`t be coming home..
Daddies and husbands,brothers and
sisters and daughters,mothers and wives,aunts and all,
gone to cleanse Iraq of Saddam and
his deadly sins
One, and all, they have gone to answer freedom`s call
We are here waiitng at home and daily we
for victory and the great homecoming day
when the battle`s haze clears and it does end
It is sad ,but some,
will not be coming home again
'Freedom Is Not Free' is the handbook we read
It takes it toll of those warriors
it does need
Treasure the sight of their wave as they left that day
Some will surley die ensuring our freedom does
©Faye Sizemore 3/23/03
For Every Reason ... Heads Held High
every channel we watch them gear up and march to war.
With every minute we hear again what we can't ignore.
But we stand
strong and we stand proud to watch them go.
Those brave soldiers, who boldly sacrificed to beat this foe.
souls who came from every walk of life
How ironic that it is women too causing him strife.
When all is said and done,
and daylight falls.
We stand with heads held high, as freedom calls.
All those waiting at home do pray
will be the final day
So when the dust settles and all is calm
A voice will say "It's all right. It's over Mom."
we all know for some it is just an echoing voice.
They won't come home, they made that difficult choice.
No matter how
many handbooks we read.
Words are powerful, but freedom requires the deed.
So keep as a treasure the sight as they
left that day
Because they are the future as they "Seize the Day".
Their claim to fame, both returning heros or ones
"They that fought and will forever be with heads held high."
©Elizabeth Colbert April 1, 2003
The children are playing,subdued
pre-schoolers being good in their own way
The dishes are done and lunch is now on
She keeps very busy to
forget he is gone
Glances at the television, silent in the corner
Should she turn it on..no wait awhile longer
soup is done and the table is already set
A extra bowl is there...again, did she forget
No,it`s just comforting
to see it sitting there
Daddy`s bowl is just salve for their undying care
Her children scramble to the table,angels
Billy, with his Daddy`s curly hair,and his 'little man' air
Annie has his eyes of blue,Daddy`s little girl
And Jimmy, with his Daddy`s lop-sided grin...
With lots of gusto and giggling, lunch does begin...
and secure ,here at home, so far from the war
Daddy`s place is empty because of a patrotic chore
She rises slowly
to answer a knock at the door
Out the window she looks, and her eyes begin to tear,
men are standing there
Her thousand year journey,her faltering steps,
................ across the floor,Dear Lord,forgive,
she knows that until she answers the Knock,
............................for her ,he still does live
.......Thirty years of rains
have still not washed
........the Delta mud
from your feet........
...of wind will it take.....
to blow the desert sand
.......... from your hair...
......have preserved the blood
and still...with this spring...
..................in the desert sun
again it thaws....
............ and flows......
as do the tears.... from your eyes
Faye Sizemore 3/27/03
THE MISSING ELEMENT
saw not God in my dank and dirty trench,
Nor in the fear filled eyes of a comrades gaze,
I gained no comfort
from the slime and stench,
And nothing changed despite which God I praised.
No bullet spared the believers
there who prayed,
Nor restored sweet life to their pale grey eyes,
Where shells landed and where choppers
Is where in hope the Christian soldiers died.
Life does not fit the dreams and hopeful thoughts,
We speculate as being what is real,
Belief gives false birth to assumptive wroughts ,
what it never can reveal.
For I found not in war the planter of its seed,
But men close bound that they might
©28 March 03Colin F. Jones
If I was made by God then my defects,
his to bare for I caused them not myself,
Though this logic a truer thought reflects,
Such is kept hidden
on the dusty shelf.
Man makes war not to claim the peace,
But yet to live as he might choose to do,
this life he holds a temporary lease,
For all his days on Earth are very few.
The rights he claims are not
rights at all,
For a right to life depends on other men,
You live to fight or you fight and fall,
are the rights to make such choices then?
To believe a flame is cold cools not the fire,
And changes not the
truth of its attire.
©28 March 03 Colin F. Jones
I dreamed I was an angel,
I flew up to the Heavens,
And witnessed many things.
I flew down to some forests,
Calling out to a Soldier.
Where he could be in no more harm.
His uniform was tattered,
He had scars in many places.
I had entered into a dream,
We went to the Moon and Stars.
I told him things were Ok,
As he cried out for another.
I held him tight in my arms,
And wrapped my wings around him.
Then I witnessed something,
That I never thought I would.
This soldier became an angel,
Carolina Piney Woods
Walk with me in the piney
Winter has been packing it`s goods
All here is becoming lush and green
Signs of spring and birds nesting are
The only helicopers, an occasional dragonfly
There are no bombs falling from the sky
Just fragrant blossoms
No trenches here, dug in the ground,
just soldier ants marching around...
the birds and the wind, the
One thing above all that I hold dear
All is tranquil peace here........ in this place,
If only I
could just gather the world into here
and,would that we could,remain in this space,
....................and forget the
..............become lost in Carolina dreaming
©Faye Sizemore 3/28/03
31 March 03
CAN`T SAY WE WERE PATRIOTIC
Can`t say we were patriotic,
When we went off to war,
Just a chance to earn more, money
To buy a bran-new-car.
Course things changed a bit in country,
When in action with the foe,
Our minds dwelt on comradeship,
Never once saw the flag you know.
We fought there for each other,
Not for our counties soul,
For sister and for brother,
To keep our bodies whole.
We fought to keep from dying,
No patriotic stuff in that,
Each on each relying,
In defense and in attack
No!, cant say we were patriotic,
When we went off to war,
Left that for those back home,
To dwell on what we saw,
To raise the flag of freedom,
The patriotic type!
To have something good to feed on,
To wallow in the hype.
No we were not patriotic,
Nor those who died in war,
cause it wasnt for their nation,
that they exist no more.
It was for those beside them,
Who fought to the bitter end,
The buddy and the comrade,
The loyal warrior friend.
Its nice I guess for others,
To justify their thoughts,
To ease the minds of Mothers,
With propaganda type reports
We went because some minister,
Said we ought to go,
Be the reason true or sinister,
Makes no difference you know.
A soldiers world is soldiering,
Fighting with a will,
Any folk our pollys deem,
An enemy to kill
All this talk of nationhood,
Does not from the soldiers come,
Except when they are veterans,
When the war is over and done.
The reality on the battle field,
Is blood and guts and gore,
And doing your best to stay alive,
In a very private war.
War Poetry Of Colin F.Jones
Delbert Meyer 1928
this picture of a man I never knew.
Came in my email from my mother who knew,
The value of this man and the things
that he did,
To serve his Country as he and many others did.
Picture in black and white writing on the back,
Meyer, Des Moines Iowa, 1928,
Other information, it lacks.
I see in his eyes a reflection of me,
I see in his
eyes so many things.
This man who sat proud,
The day of the picture.
The man with a crooked smile,
I have that look.
I was told once that I,
Was just like this man.
But how can that be?
When for my Country,
I can't stand?
I look in my mirror and sometimes I see,
The portrait of the man, staring back at me.
© April 7, 2003
Destinies last hope
lies within our deepest fear,
on to yesterday
wishing tomorrow were here,
a life of truth or dare,
And when it seems like
even have a prayer,
We lose control to crash and burn,
from which we never learn,
we all have to take,
with the choices we make.....
© Leah Frank 04/08/03