The poetry of Patriots

[wrbones]

Our Soldiers' Cause

I watched a documentary
Filmed in ancient black and white
About the world at war in Europe
And our men who went to fight

And I saw in vivid color
As I learned how many died
The faces of each mother
Who for soldier son had cried

And I felt with them a tragic loss
For men I'd never met
Who'd given up their very lives
For something greater yet

I wondered what that something was
As the show went off the air
And the TV station said goodnight
As that song began to blare

America the Beautiful
Began to raise it's strains
Of purple mountain majesties
And amber waves of grain

And I concurred with every word
From sea to shining sea
How truly grand my native land
Has always looked to me

But then I thought, It's surely not
Of near sufficient worth
To trade the blood of heroes loved
For a scenic piece of earth

No, I'd have to say I'd wager
If the dead could tell their tales
And reveal to us their vision
Yes, that dream that never fails

If they showed us what they died for
What made them take their stand
We'd find that their America
Was more than just the land

This nation is a people
Who may live a life of choice
A band of individuals
Who can stand and raise a voice

Who somehow stand united
Under God-inspired laws
Which guard our precious freedoms
And give our soldiers cause

To bravely face the bayonets
And fight on though they bleed
That future children all may choose
The lives they'd like to lead

Ah, it's interesting to ponder...
And wonder what you'd find
If you could know the guiding thought
Within the martyr's mind

I'm sure he missed the lovely scenes
That fill this gorgeous land
But I'll bet it was for FREEDOM'S cause
He made his final stand

Wes Stephenson

[wrbones]

Patriot



Someone asks me, casual dinner party jest
as the crab claws are cleared away
"So will you die for your country"
Surprised, I counter
"Surely it is better to live for it?"

Flippant, my glib mouth fires back
But later, the drive home I think
of patriots, priests, and politicians

Would I be the first to the front
With my finger on the trigger
Or would I move to another land
and nurse the memory with my

television dinner,
the channels flickering
while I think of the beaches and winds
I left behind ?

love is sacrifice
but which comes first
which comes fierce
my country or me ?

[wrbones]

Patriotic Poetry by Abe



http://www.jeannepasero.com/poemsbyabe.html


From Abe's book, THE WORLD, WAR, FREEDOM, AND MORE
COPYRIGHT 1991




OLD GLORY
More than two hundred years ago
Betsy Ross sewed strips of rag -
From those bits of colored cloth
Was shaped "Old Glory," our grand flag.

Stripes of red and white
For the thirteen colonies
White stars against the blue
Began waving in the breeze.

It's gone through minor changes -
With stars added, as we grew
It's flown proudly o'er our land
And in some other countries, too.

That symbol of our freedom
Should be protected, at all cost
But now our reverence for it
Seems, to be getting lost.

There are some things so sacred
To our great American way
That, those who desecrate it
Should, have a price, to pay.

Even though each buys his own
That flag belongs to us all
It's owned by all the people
And we should never let it fall.




THE GOOD OLE' DAYS
They said, "It's alright to burn it."
"You can throw it to the ground."
"You can wear it on your back.
That symbol of the freedom bound.

It's been through catastrophes
Flown high in wartimes' strife
Men swore they would protect it
And did so with their life.

What makes them so supreme
The high court of this land
To tell us when those Stars and Stripes
Should fall; when they should stand.

What right do they think they have
To let our flag be set ablaze
Once, it was loved and respected
Back there, in the good ol' days.




MEMORIAL DAY
A time for picnics, time off work
Vacations and the "Indy"
A holiday, too often times
We forget what, it should be.

A time to pay respect to those
Who rallied to the battle cry
Who gave their lives for liberty
Those freedoms for you and I.

Such a waste of brave young souls
Some still struggling through their youth
Who faced and fell willingly
Before wartimes' awful truth.

So as we share this holiday
With our friends or family
Take a moment to give thanks to
Those who died so we'd stay free.

Let us strive for world peace
For the end of greed and hate
For next time, after "the war"
It just may be too damned late.




FREEDOMS' MEMORIAL
This day is set aside
to honor those
who took the chance to die.

But they have died in vain
if we ever forget
the reason why.

Freedom can be like time
slipping away
before we even know.

But we all have the choice
more, a duty
to battle freedoms' foe.

Let us give thanks this day
to all those brave
who paid the highest cost.

Not take it for granted
and realize
it easily could be lost.

[wrbones]

IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM

By: Jackie Langley 01/19/01


It looked so old so worn and tattered in the corner of the room
hanging all alone, to high to reach for this boy who never knew
that the man who wore this uniform had stories he could tell
but the years have passed now he's old and gray and his memory's not so well.

But the stories he could tell sent chills down my spine,
and the words he spoke would take you to another place and time;
Many thought him crazy, just an old man, a wanna be,
but the uniform in the corner of the room was all I needed to see.

There were ribbons on his chest, not many just a few,
and he'd point at every one and all the stories that I knew;
but I'd let him carry on as if I'd never heard,
and I'd listen there in silence to the pride in every word.

He would always speak of freedom, duty and honor to name a few,
but God and Country topped the list of everything he'd do;
and the years his life has spanned leads me to understand,
that I'm proud to be the son of the son of this Patriotic Man.

Now the day will come when he is gone and memories are all I'll have,
but he'll live on through the stories he told in every generation of man.
Now the uniform in the corner of the room is not to high to reach
and the pride of the man who wore it continues on through me.

I reached for this symbol of honor to give it that which it deserved,
and from the pocket a ribbon was hanging, it was blue and had white stars.
As I pulled it from the pocket and held it in my hand
the medal he never talked of, I'm the son of the son of this Patriotic Man.

[wrbones]

.
What it means to be an American


I do not choose to be a common man,
it is my right to be uncommon, if I can
I seek opportunity, not security.
I do not wish to be a kept citizen,
humbled and dulled by having the state look after me.
I want to take the calculated risk,
to dream and to build, to fail and to succeed.
I refuse to barter incentive for a dole.
I prefer the challenges of life to the guarantee existence,
the thrill of fulfillment to the stale calm of utopia.
I will not trade freedom for beneficence,
nor my dignity for a handout.
I will never cower before any master nor bend to any threat.
It is my heritage to stand erect, proud and unafraid,
to think and act for myself, to enjoy the benefits of my creations,
and to face the world bodly an say,
"this I have done."
All this is what it means to be an American."
"Anonymous"