Nobody hears of the Bargeman, he who ferries the Warrior dead

No one knows that he decides where, his decision carries real dread

He can take the fallen to Gloried Valhalla, the reward for the brave of war

He may take you to Satan’s Seat, a perpetual existence as a Devils Whore

A Barge that plies the rivers of blood, that spilled by those on deck

Steered by the ones who fell between, chained to a Barge torso and neck

The Bargeman charges nothing, the misery he sees is his just reward

Laughing as he commands his Barge, filled with the miserable hoard

Some say he was once himself a soldier, tall brave and strong of heart

Undone by mans one constant folly, blue eyes and red lips on a female Tart

Abandoned to his solitary misery, this Barge of death has became his home

Now he gets his pleasures, roaming rivers of blood hearing songs of moans

So take heed Soldiers of fortune, listen those who will fight for a cause

Think on of how you will battle, in war you will find no time for pause

If you spare your courage, if you lack the courage to deliver the last blow

Then when you board the Barge of death, you will be put in the decks below

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The bargeman.

Sparkling enough, I felt honored

Adequate blunt edge, focal point broad

Everywhere now, my fame soared

It pierced through supple and harsh

Slay things swiftly, left only one splash

I bowled over it’s skill to smash

roared with pride, I was in a rush

To eliminate odds on my path

Vent out..subdued, overpowered wrath

Determined this time , not to be a sloth

Concealed my identity under a spotless white cloth

I slit throats those dare to differ me

Axed heads bowed at my knee

Slashed wings trying to flee

Barely ‘’ God’’ I wish to be

I cut all nerves, longer than mine

Rooted out trees standing erect, for which I pine

Killed every others’ desires, challenge to outshine

The whole lot seemed to be splendid and fine

To finish, stumbled on my worst opponent

Sharpened the sword, convinced and coherent

Hostile were testimonies, parting was evident

Silver sword penetrated through my artery,

I kept on yelling …it’s incorrect…it’s incorrect…

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at I possessed a silver sword.

We’ll never see a day where no one will die,
Before scientists built machines of great construction
Now they only create weapons of massive destruction
If this continues there will be no one left to cry

It is not only enemy countries that will do us the most harm
There is also domestic abuse, burglaries, and random street crime
Along with identity thieves who will take your every last dime
Governments listening in on your call and tyrants with lots of fake charm

It won’t be by aliens from other planets who seem to charm
But secretly mean to destroy and cause great harm
Nor by earthquakes which cause massive destruction
For it can be fixed with money, time, and lots of construction.
It will be by human greed; the want for power, money, and more land
In the end our destruction will be caused by our own hand.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The End.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at When the peace come to us……!.

I think really hard about all of our memories,
I hope one day the war will finally be over.
I’ll miss her beautiful blue eyes,
Goodbye mum.

I know that someday mum will get me,
and save my life from a cruel person
i just know,
Goodbye mum.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Goodbye mum..

As the skies were turning hazy,
With the smoke of blast and fire,
They were scared and feeling hopeless, with their situation dire,
And they knew there was no answer,
And they knew there was no end
To the hell that formed around them; nothing left for to defend.

Even men, once strong and daring,
Now retreated from the sight,
For they felt so very helpless and incapable of fight,
But while they were lost and drowning
In the terror of the day,
There was one small boy among them who decided he would pray.

First his prayer was spoken softly,
Barely audible at all,
Then he started praying louder as he stood up straight and tall,
And he shouted to the heavens,
To the God upon His throne,
And the people stared in wonder, as he stood there all alone.

He was just a boy so tiny,
But he had a faith so large,
He believed that in this darkness his great God was still in charge,
So the people gathered closer,
And it bolstered their belief,
And they knew that if they joined him, they were sure to find relief.

Now they knew that God was with them,
Yes, they knew that He was there,
And they knew that He would answer ev’ry fear and ev’ry prayer,
Their distress would be abated,
Like the storms on Galilee,
So they prayed to God in Heaven on each humble, bended knee.

No more bombs fall from the heavens,
No more people have to die,
No more fearful women screaming; no more children have to cry,
God has calmed the storms around them,
And their fears so deep within,
And they know that it is over and a new day will begin.

Still, the little boy keeps praying,
Not from fear or urgent need,
He no longer prays for safety or for fighting to recede,
He has found a friend who’s closer
Than a brother or his kin,
And he’s found a joy so lasting, and a peace that dwells within.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at God Was With Them.

My head’s in the sand,
And my butt’s in the air,
I’m hiding from trouble,
Not saying a prayer.

I think no one sees me,
I’m far out of sight,
Now all’s back to normal,
And everything’s right.

If I can’t see hunger,
It doesn’t exist,
If nations are fighting,
I can’t see their fist.

I live in my darkness,
And all is so fine,
The world is not ending,
I can’t see the sign.

But while I am living,
Down here in my rut,
The real world is out there,
Attacking my butt.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Head In The Sand.

September 11, 2001,
The day the world stopped.

I sat watching the pictures in disbelief,
Knowing in my mind what was happening,
But in my heart, believing this could never be.

My plan that day was to buy a new computer,
But instead, I sat there watching the pictures,
My insides hollow,
My mind numb with disbelief,
Fear,
A sense of loss,
My innocence gone.

It seemed a sin to go out shopping,
While others were dying,
To be wanting something so material,
While others were losing everything.

So I just sat there,
No longer wanting to watch,
But unable to tear myself away,
Just watching and watching,
As the same images were played,
Over and over,
And over again.

I finally bought my computer that day,
My life would not stop.
I could not allow them to take it away.
My life would continue,
Though it would never be the same again.

The next day I went to work,
Taking the many phone calls
From those trying to leave the stricken city,
Or those trying to get home to families.

Every call was different,
Yet every call was the same.
Everyone was calm,
In an eerie sort of way.

No one wanted to talk about what happened,
I’m mean, what could they say?
Everyone had seen the pictures,
Everyone had felt the loss,
The sorrow,
The pain.

I took over a hundred phone calls,
One after another,
From every part of the planet,
From people just wanting to get home to loved ones,
Even if they already knew they were safe,
Just to hold them,
To tell them they were loved.
There would be no family quarrels today.

That evening I sat in front of the television
And hid myself in a bottle of wine.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Day The World Stopped (911).

Related links:
– Encounter South Africa
– Andries Pretorius
– Dingaan kaSenzangakhona

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Blood river train.

I never was a soldier,
I know not
his plight to be.
I never slept in a tent
Or upon the ground,
because
I was a Navy man
And sailed the mighty sea.
Our mode of living
Quite different.
We did not sleep
Upon the deck
Our sacks were
Stacked quite high.
We never ate k-rations
Or meals in packages
Cooked outside.
When seas were calm
Food was eaten
Sitting down,
When Neptune turned nasty
It was sandwiches
All around.
We never feared roadside bombers,
Or anyone laded with TNT.
Our enemy was in the sky
And beneath us in the sea.
We knew our enemy.
They fought the same as we.
Soldiers of today
Know not his foe
Specters he cannot see.
Those he knows by day,
At night are enemy.
Shadows in the dark
Make our men in Iraq
An easy mark.

8/5/2005
Tom Fenning

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Our Men In Iraq.