Days come; days go

This one's special, that I know.

We sit, stand, lie in cloudless sky

And if in moment's thought we find,

Some peace and pleasure in this kingdom,

We might think of those who fell,

Who fell for the cause of freedom.
Men and women, they were all,

Marching, moving, running tall

Cross fields and valleys, brooks and pasture,

First excited with the game

Of pursuing those for shame,

Who would our land and freedom claim.
Then there came that fatal shot,

And Danny died on the spot.

 "Keep on!" urged the sergeant, turning

Then he, too, felt a searing burning

And fell and died right there,

And suddenly the battle fair,

Turned ghastly grim - and despair

Changed eager running faces

Into frightened souls looking for spaces

From the running mob to hide in

So they themselves would not be died in.
The romance of war came and went,

Now there was no merriment.

And the future black and blank

Were ourselves in the waiting....
Waiting for those mens' restore

To take their arms and fight some more,

No longer for some glorious game

But fighting for freedom

That we might see

When we were born, the light to be.
Today we thank them always

For the lives they gave...

For those who died too soon,

So we could see the sun, the sea, the moon,
We salute you fallen ones...

May our lives be not wasted

At the cost of death you tasted.

You live in memories

In our heart

And when our turn comes to part

From this earthly life,

You'll meet us there,

And we'll be all

Strong and fair, free and tall....
 

Thank you.
 

© Copyright 2008 Raphaël (UN: jonmark222 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

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Distant clouds across the horizon,
Subtle hints of approaching storms,
Silhouettes of snow-capped mountains,
Protect the edge of Evermore.

Clear blue skies are soon disrupted,
By cumulous clouds in shapes and forms,
Ice cream cones and foam filled fountains,
Collect and hedge rough ocean shores.

Marshmallow pillows, cottony white,
Soft armadillos and polar bear kites,
Unicorns, dragons and Medieval knights.
A kalidascope of hynotic delights.

A soft gentle breeze escorts stronger winds,
Fluxing rough seas and shuffling shark fins.
Grey tinged clusters of powder puffs begin,
To gather and usher the darkness in.

The rumble of thunder can faintly be heard,
As elephants and stallions assemble their herds.
Flashes of lightening are distantly seen,
Slashing and brightening what once was serene.

In front of the mountains sheer curtains fall,
Slanting brushstrokes in a midsummer's squall.
As the Gods bowl strikes down heavenly lanes,
The sky soon erupts in showers of rain.

I sit and I ponder God's beautiful scene,
Its elegant wonder, its passionate scheme,
Suddenly I'm consciously sober it seems,
No longer lost in my childlike daydreams.

Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

km005
011610

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