Pass It Along

by Ray St. Ray

When
we were boys we played with toys and we'd pretend we were
men
fighting wars on foreign shores, mom called us to supper then
suddenly dad gave us rifles and bombs,
triplicate orders to South Viet Nam! Paradise lost in a sheet of napalm!
We might not be home for Thanksgiving!

Brothers are gone, life must go on,
bury their bodies, their spirit's a song
in each one of us, the lives that they touched,
love what they gave us and pass it along.

Continued Here From Front Page->

Mud,
mail from home, beer with foam from helicopters and
blood,
missing parts of broken hearts from Dear John letters.
Some caught a bullet, some caught a plane,
some got a habit and some went insane,
some received medals, why should they feel blame
'cause they made it home for Thanksgiving?

Brothers are gone, life must go on,
bury their bodies, their spirit's a song
in each one of us, the lives that they touched,
love what they gave us and pass it along.

And peace
was never a thing to come cheap,
sacrifice all of the sheep
some pay the price more than others.
Peace
drifts in and out of our sleep
seeking a way to release
the sprits of our haunted brothers.

Days
come and go before you know it they're just memories.
Crazed
nights still cry, laugh and die with friends and enemies.

Time is a river through pleasure and pain!
Love will deliver us time and again!
If God has a purpose then nothing's in vain
and we made it home for Thanksgiving!

Brothers are gone, life must go on,
bury their bodies, their spirit's a song
in each one of us, the lives that they touched,
love what they gave us and pass it along.

©2000, 2011 by Ray St. Ray

click on Ray's Face to See his Website:

LD Sledge Announces New Blog

New Blog, www.spotofsledge.blogspot.com.

Poem, The Great Pretender, inspired by Mike Fine

The Great Pretender

 Prefer I to press to these keys

To imbed on my own memory and cyber world

The imaginary cankers that I seem to cherish

And hold dear

When I know they are only phantoms of old dead dreams

Long drempt, long past in memory

Of lives lied in the dim half world of shadow

Somewhere back in the days of maybe regret and too little joy’

And now I know what is important,

For it is joy that I can make for myself

It is the day I can fill with laughter and crystal dreams of now

Of bells that ring like little birdsong

And fragrance on the breeze

And the tug of a fish on my line

The touch of her gentle fingers on my body

The breath of her on my ear

And there is more for I can look and see dimension

And form and the floor beneath my feet that stays

Level and firm so I don’t sink to my chin in doubt

Yes to know I know, to know I am me

To know I am pretending

A pretend that I am pretending

Oh what fun.

Fill my pretended lungs and let out a laugh

At how silly I am to try to not know

And to know that I am really having fun

Pretending to pretend,

 always.

And forever

Amen

--
L D Sledge