Wake to fire and thunder. As the earth trembles. Coffee and hardtack. Light blowing rain. Bugles calling. Rattle of drums. Orders barked. Mighty mounts. Hoofs pawing. Saddles await. Cheering troopers. Look to the sergeants. Shakos pulled down. Power kept dry. Sabres flashing. Horses at the walk. Greys wheel right. Churning mud. Sound of battle. Time to be joined. Thick French lines. Command givens. We dine on. Frenc...
Full Moon Crisp fall night Leaves swirling Jack-O-Lantern Eerie grinning Owl hooting Black cat hissing Goblins and Ghosts Cowboys and Princesses Laughter and wonderment Kit Kats Baby Ruth's Peanut Butter cups Dragging bags of treats Door to door Children screaming Trick or Treat
End of another warm summer. Puffs of cotton clouds. Warm breezes off the Channel. Cow bells clanging. Peace. Dark clouds forming. Fear and Hate reclaimed. Stars sown. Synagogues lit the night. Still people went quiet. Fear. Demi Gods spoke. "One cannot shoot with butter, But with guns." Swords rattled. Jack boots echoed. Hate. Neighbors tired. Turned a blind eye. Bleed white. Twenty short years ago. Laughed at th...
Battle joined. Thunder. Smoke and grape. Galloping horses. Pride of France. Wave upon wave. Silver blinding. They rode. Crasing upon Red sticks waiting in the sun. Flashing steel. Rattle of musketry. Friends and foes. Tangled. In deaths throes. As I wrote this. The sounds. The images. Screaming horses. Haunt me.
In my dreams. I am in your arms. Holding me. Quieting me. Saving me. Healing my broken heart. Teaching me. To love again. Your divine love. Humbles me. You are my Angel. Sent from above. I choose love.
We all have sat in our history classes as children. and studied and read about D-Day. June 6th 1944.To honour the ones that climbed into their landing crafts, rode across the channel to drop behind enemy lines, and ferried troops and equipment ashore. Images that have been burned into my soul. Here is a short story to read As the weather broke on June 5th, we mustered with our complete gear. Standing in line we al...
I took the Bristish steel On Bunker Hill. I sent grape shot On Lake Erie. I fixed bayonets On Little Round Top. I felt the knife At Greasy Grass. I moved up the hill Bully Boys all. I bled red Feeding poppy fields. I swatted mosquitoes On the deck of Yorktown. I froze white At the reservoir. I rode a green horse Over the lush jungle. I drove though The hot sandbox. I am an American Soldier.
Tell me your fears So I can relieve them. Tell me your pains So I can ease them. Tell me your doubts So I may wash them away. Tell me your dreams So I may fulfill them. Tell me your fantasies So we can live them. Show me your heart So I can love you. Open your soul So I may reside there. I love you. Like no one has.
When we were young children, our grandfather would takes us to camp. As we sat cross-legged around the evening fire, he started his tale of our past. Slowly he poked the fire, sending embers floating into the sky. We waited for Grandfather to continue, restless on our colourful native blankets. He started again, telling one of my favorite stories: how we gained our family totem. The tale is based on our great-grandfath...
On that cloudy day, she watched as a black sedan pulled into her driveway. Her heart dropped as two dressed soldiers walked up to her front door. Little Jake all but a year old on her hip, she knew to good would come from this visit. Both soldiers polite and talked in a soft low voice. Giving her the news she had always feared. With a wail, she slumped to the floor. Even at a young age, Jake knew something was wrong...
Morning Mist burning offSoulful sound of loons in the distance.Two young friends,about to find love.Oars in the water,making ripples to the shore.Her brown eyes so bright,bouncing off the water.Water splashing her arms,balled up fists.As you laugh,your heart melts.Two friends,on their lake.Now two lovers,finding themselves.Falling madly in love.
Three times they probed the base. They came during the darkest of the night. Mortars falling inside, kicking up dirt and random sandbags. The chatter of our heavy weapons returning the favor. Pushing their first wave back. Once then twice as we poured our fire into their broken lines. Then to our centre, heavy movement as their third wave broke through our wire. Pushing deep they wheeled to our left. With their g...
Across the tracks, dusty homes line the streets. Zoey the ally cat, soaking up the July sun. Watching the fat robins, fly from fence to trees. Day by day, turns to years. Scratch and scrap, scrape and scratch. Turning nickles to dimes. Old Glory waving, in the early morning. Gold star hanging. faded in the front window. Old lonely Hank. bented shuffles off to work. First a bowl of milk, and an ear scratch for Zoey. ...
