This Is A Place Of Rememberance
NO ONE DIES
IT IS ALL A HOLLOW DREAM
CAUGHT IN A WAR
IT ALL RETURNS.......FADED
I LIGHT A CIGARETTE
I used to ride that River....!
I sit on the bank
Trying so hard
the days we laughed in the Sun.
before going away.
..... are never
I sit and watch!
riding that River
when I was young.
with lots of
What Price Liberty?
What have we lost?
What was the cost?
When one lets another group take our property.
What did all those veterans fight for?
What was the reason they fought until they won the war?
When a lot of us hid behind a false doctrine of leave them be.
Where were all of those that couldnt see?
Where were the anti-war groups that jeered with glee?
Where are the protestors that spit up on the veterans that fought for you and me?
Hiding behind our Liberty!
Liberty is personal freedom from servitude or confinement, an act of undue intimacy.
Liberty is immunity from arbitrary exercise of authority.
Even to protect those that gave nothing but grief.
Now we can all hold high our Liberty.
May 5, 2003
All Rights Reserved
May I Take the Liberty?
May I take the liberty
Which you profess to prize
And pass it to another
To give their spirits rise?
Or maybe just a part of it
Surely you don't need it all
Wouldn't the missing piece grow back again
Would you walk not just as tall?
You own so very many things
So how about itwhat do you say?
Let me have just your liberty
Seems a small price you could pay
It's old and lost its usefulness
No longer needed here
Though it would be met in another place
With pomp and rousing cheer
Now may I take the liberty
To share with some oppressed?
Its not as though you'll miss it
Or left naked and undressed
No? I can not have your liberty
Not even as a loan?
But you'll fight and die that others
May one day find their own?
What sort of person are you
To make this claim in haste?
Ahh just a free and simple soldier
Grown accustomed to the taste!
My friend, take the liberty
To keep and hold it high
Because without it, I now see
That you would surely die
©Randy Richmond 5/5/03
The Maudlin Speaks
Have you found the River
that rounds the World?
Found a love within
Found the man ya were
as a Boy?
Of course not!
You are my laddy,
...Son of the old Empire!
...near to me.
It all dies,
..and it all lives,
within the fragile curtain
of our dreams.
None shall understand our love
Tis a dream of Warriors my Son!
...til the end.
Sittin' here wondering
What to type on these keys
Staring through glass
With to many memories
Hurts been locked up
But time freely flows
From the fingertips of a ghost
As south East Asian winds blow
What to write?
It's the dead of night
The morning suns,
Still four hours from bright
Do I type words of war?
Do I bleed out of old wounds?
My brothers have already lived this
And have danced to this tune
Do I write for release?
Do I tap keys for fame?
I pray it's to keep alive
Just one single name
Brother, and sister,
Veteran, and friend,
Hero, POW/ MIA,
Thoughts without end
Can't think of a thing
Cept the breaking of day
I'll search my heart for new peace
In the same old war ways
What to write indeed..
©Richard Preston 5/07/03
Memory rides a thundering steed
whose hooves strike lightning flashes
coming with strong gusts of wind.
Rain streams down,
bathing all with a wet red glow.
Vietnam comes again to light.
Artillery is in the thunders boom.
The lightning flash holds enemy fire,
in the rain, the smell of jungle stench
and in the wind, cries of battle again.
What makes a man brave?
A soldier stands because...he is a soldier.
My heart is pounding in my chest.
My ears are filled with the sounds of fear...
...and in my mind are the sounds of feet running...
©Faye Sizemore 5/07/03
Phantasm and Poetry
You say, they are not
Not being real,
they become the silence within a dream.
They become real
in the sense of a hand,.....writing memory,
Phantasmic soldiers crawl and surround
the valley of the sky..........,
mostly at night.
The poet hears them knocking
and shuffling by his door, so very late
We unlock our hearts
and the door opens.
We say to the darkness
..far past midnight!....Hello!
...and 'Welcome Home!'
©LJKlaiber May 8/03
The heat by the river toward home...........
by the side of the road that is America;
an old soldier sits beside a tidal river,
and calls it home
as it passes him by,
........going to the Sea.
Dark clouds dance with bright blue
I could fish perhaps.
But I choose this day to feel the breeze
that talks of home.
To see the Turtle and the Hawk.
To be silent!
To be at home.
and so it begins/ends
Our local news channel, for the past several weeks has been airing a
nightly `military salute.' One area serviceman/woman has been
recognized and honored each evening. God bless the station for this
Tonight I listened to our news anchor Ron Steele introduce today's
segment as the last of these. Sadly this is going to be replayed by
a great many television stations across the land in the coming days
and weeks. This is of course understood and reflects the reality
that these folks are there to report the news and that this
particular area of the news, albeit of the human interest sort, is
becoming yesterday's story.
It's also, in small part, indicative of the `ebb and flow' brand of
patriotism that's become the norm for America. Please don't mistake
any of this to mean that I believe television, other media, or any
particular group of folk are being unpatriotic or insensitive. As a
matter of fact, during times of war or threat, America comes together
with such resolve and support that it makes this chest again swell
It is the periods between the wars I'm speaking of. The times when
flags come down, window dressings disappear, blue star banners are
placed into keepsake boxes, and the yellow ribbons are broken by the
A time when new veterans of these wars enter the black hole of these
dark periods. It can be an extremely scary and real transition.
Going from "welcome home", "thank you", claps on the back, and
promises to a world of red tape, denials, inadequate care for those
who will require it, and a "hey, it's finishedget over it" mentality.
They will come home of course feeling, and rightly so, like they left
a job well done. They will also bring with them the knowledge that
billions upon billions of dollars will be spent to help rebuild that
nation. This in addition to the sacrifices they and their comrades
who paid the ultimate price have already contributed. A great many
will blend back into their civilian life and live without ever
needing or asking for anything more than the occasional `thanks'
or `hey, way to go!"
Then there are those who will sooner or later require some sort of
assistance. It may be for help in dealing with demons, an injury or
an illness associated with their service that has finally become too
painful to ignore, or another that won't present itself for some
time.sound familiar? My point is that when these needs arise, if
things progress historically, they will be met at many turns by brick
walls and obstaclesthat's a fact to which thousands can testify.
I'm rambling a bit when it was only my intention to ask how can all
those folks in Washington sign off so easily on the billions to
rebuild nations then balk, hem-haw, and just plain shortchange the
veterans of wars past?
It can endbut will it?? One thing we could all do is to level out
the `peaks and valleys' patriotism. Flags CAN be flown during time
of peace and a thank you, welcome home, or a "let's see what we can
do" can help light those black holes between the warsthey're real!
Hey Ron, what do you think about having a nightly `veteran who's had
problems with the V.A.' segment? (kidding of courseHell's not
frozen over yet!) I've enjoyed many years of your news in the
comfort of my living room.
SOUTH IN LIBERTY
In the Carolina foothills,
I sit outside and take my ease,
content in the night and the cool breeze
Being one of the protected is the reason why
Overhead, stars twinkle in the sky
Honeysuckle scent floats on by
I know a Lady lifts her torch in our harbor
A gift from a foreign nation, a very different generation,
She stands through sunshine, storms and ice
Her freedom came at a price, a mighty price
so willing paid dear by many a brave soul
forget not their names nor forget their goal
We owe them a debt we can never repay
This liberty we enjoy was bought with blood,
blood that was shed side by side, in brotherhood
Across the sea, a debt is owed by me,
to the ones who stood by our side,
and did not let us go alone
So in the warm Carolina night, I ponder
ways to write of their honor
And in Georgia, an old soldier paints his soul, in oil,
to the haunting strains of a saxophone
God bless us all and keep liberty home
May 10, 2003