the other day it occured to me

its a terrible price for liberty.

its the soldiers who died without a fear..

leaving their families to shed all the tears.

the family that stands at the burial site

the loved one they bury in the day’s fading light.

carried home by brothers whose spirits now sag

they carry that coffin…draped with a flag.

One last tribute for the freedoms he’s won

the playing of taps and twentyone guns.

they know it can happen and there may come a day..

the ultimate price for freedom…they’re willing to pay.

defending our freedoms…these brothers in arms

they come from the cities and come from the farms.

their vision is blurred and eyes full of tears

dying too young but wise for their years.

dont be sad for them..instead raise your voice

they knew of the cost and still made the choice.

one last tribute for the freedoms they’ve won

the playing of taps and twentyone guns.

a crisp salute to family at the end of their life

the presenting of a flag to a mother or wife.

the sounds of the mourners sobbing and standing around

they are given their final peace and placed in the ground.

one more hero sent up at the end of this day

cometh the angels to take him away.

they died with dignity…they did not die in vain,

i hope you understand..let me explain.

ONE FINAL TRIBUTE FOR THE FREEDOMS THEY’VE WON

THE PLAYING OF TAPS AND TWENTY ONE GUNS.

Mike Laures-2007

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Twenty One Guns.

So soulful your petals
So gently you rise
Most beautiful woman
With brown Angel eyes

Mysterious Rose, so caring
your soul
Let me feel you beside me,
so I can be whole

So real is your beauty
So caring your heart
Wanting you so badly
Tears me apart

Mysterious Rose, so fragile
your thorns
Let me hold you forever
Away from the storms

Just open your petals
Show me your heart
We’ll sail into horizons
Until death us do part

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Mysterious Rose.

And soon after his next birthday, her old mansion would be sold,

Since she died, and he would miss them both, as nine years changed the date.

He completed school, did two years work, and started college late.

(2)At the end of his first Uni year, he used semester break,

To get on his pushbike, ride ten miles, and use the street to take

Some new photographs of that old house, that stood in Memory Lane.

Then a lady pulled up in the drive, and Tom had to explain.

(3)So he told her how he’d visited his great aunt, and she’d died.

She invited him to take more pictures of the house inside.

They exchanged their names, and hers was Angel. She had long blond hair,

And she wore a dark blue dress, which caught his eyes and made him stare.

(4)Angel showed him in, and chatted, as the camera’s shutters moved

More than those beside the windows, and he noticed she approved

Of his dedicated efforts to preserve the life he’d known.

He used up his roll of film, while she was talking on the phone.

(5)He soon asked her if he could come back, when he had bought some more.

She took out an unused roll of film she’d kept in her desk drawer.

“You can have this as a gift, if you could stay for lunch as well,”

Angel told him, and he found himself enchanted by her spell.

(6)With her wedding ring to think of, he stayed focused on the shots

That he took of her interiors, while Angel warmed some pots.

She prepared a tasty pasta, which they ate, while she detailed

How she’d married, bought the house, and then her husband’s health had failed.

(7)For two years she’d been a widow, and the house was now a shrine,

And the memories of their lost loved ones would start to intertwine,

As a thirty year old widow, and a boy were growing fond

Of each other, with that mansion as a setting for a bond.

(8)He told stories of old visits there, and picnics on the lawn.

Then the sunlight shone upon her face, as Angel had to yawn.

She proposed that they might have the next day’s lunch out on the grass,

And he thought of Angel married, when those years had had to pass.

(9)Now they shared the common ground, specifically that block of land,

And the ghosts they knew that no-one else could ever understand.

He accepted her proposal, and soon bought a “Thank you” card,

And some chocolates, which he handed her, as they walked through her yard.

(10)They enjoyed the picnic lunch, and she invited him to stay,

For a chat up on the balcony, and let him lead the way.

She was thrilled by how he knew his way around each nook and cranny,

And he told her how he’d used the cellar once, to hide from Nanny.

(11)They walked out onto the balcony, and Tom said, “When I came,

I was glad to see the garden and the house looked just the same.

It feels just like fifteen years ago, on days when my great aunt

And I both looked out at every creeper vine and growing plant.”

(12)”Tom, you’re sweet to buy me chocolates,” Angel candidly responded,

“And it’s nice the way we’ve shared the stories of this house and bonded.

For the first time, I’ve met someone who has helped me break the seal,

Of the lonely widow syndrome, but I don’t know how you feel.”

(13)”I feel nice,” said Tom, “It’s special to be spending two days here.”

Angel thanked him and then asked, “But have I got the wrong idea?
What I mean, is: Do you like me, or do you just like this place?”

He had never had a girlfriend. Now this doll was giving chase.

(14)”Yes, I really like you, Angel. I’m just scared to mix my past

With a future that could hurt me, if your feelings might not last.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, and she said, “You’re the younger man.

But you’ve thought this out so deeply, since your visits here began.

(15)I have turned away proposals from each Dick, and every Harry,

But not every Tom, because you’re one, whom I would love to carry

Me across the threshold in the future, once we two have dated

For the next two years, until such time as you have graduated.”

(16)Tom said, “When I first met you, I was unnerved about one thing,

As I came to take the pictures, and I saw your wedding ring.

I still thought it would be wrong to interrupt your right to grieve.

With my photographs all taken, I decided I should leave.”

(17)”You don’t have to leave,” said Angel, “With your help, my grief has gone.

If you’d like to see some more of me, I’m ready to move on.”

“I sure would,” said Tom, “if I don’t disappoint you. Being new

To this dating thing, I guess you’ll have to teach me what to do.”

(18)Summer sun lit up the garden, but the balcony was shady,

As she smiled and moved towards him. “Have you ever kissed a lady?”

Angel asked. He said, “I’ve never had a girlfriend, so to speak. ”

Then she smiled, and put one hand behind his neck, and kissed his cheek.

(19)Then she placed her other arm around his back, and took the lead,

As she taught him every kissing move, until they both agreed,

That the time had come to move inside and use the couch instead.

They were both too clean in mind, to jump the gun, and use the bed.

(20)They sat on the couch, and felt the cushions underneath them dip,

And he ran each finger slowly over her soft lower lip.

They embraced, and felt their touching cheeks was unity assured,

As Tom realized this vacation would leave no time to be bored.

(21)She’d inherited a chain of fashion stores, that dealt in flowers

As a sideline to enhance the atmosphere in business hours.

As the owner, she could take time off, to coincide with his,

Angel told him, as she poured some lemonade that kept its fizz.

(22)With the daylight saving sunlight still to last for quite a while,

Angel’s bicycle and his went wheeling round, until a mile

Of her suburb had been covered, and he hazarded a guess

That her own department store supplied her flowery white long dress.

(23)”I designed this one myself,” she said, “with flowers in pale red.

They’re the same as those that grow around the mansion’s old back shed.

Then the “tailor made” department had it made in several days.

Will you let me read your college work: those stories, and the plays?”

(24)She was lost in everything he wrote; and used her drawing skill

To make illustrations for the novels he worked on, until

One book publisher, who’d previously turned his books away,

Had a change of heart, and knew that now the customers would pay.

(25)When his college course was finished, and he didn’t have to cram,

Putting dates with her on hold, the night before his last exam,

He rode out of university, a bachelor of study

Up to Angel’s suburb, skidding on some road that rain made muddy.

(26)He fell off the bike, and hit his head, and passed out on the road,

Where his girlfriend lived, while clouds above went into downpour mode.

Then eventually her car pulled up, when she came driving by,

And she thought that he was dead, and stroked his head, and had to cry.

(27)”Tom, I loved you more than even my old husband. It’s not fair,”

Angel wept, as he woke up, and felt her fingers on his hair.

“It’s alright. I skidded off the road, fell down, and then I must

Have collapsed, once I had hit my head, and ended up concussed.

(28)Roadside grass has saved me from a bruise. I’m glad you came and found

Me down here, and kept me safe, since there was no-one else around.”

She secured the car, and left it, and they walked the pushbike in,

And she bandaged his right hand with rolls of something soft and thin.

(29)Angel gently held his hands and said, “I thought I’d lost another,

And before we could get married.” Then she used her lips to smother

Him with countless lovely kisses. Tom said, “Does this really mean,

That you’re seriously willing to get married? I’m still keen.

(30)And in fact, that’s why I cycled up. I hope this isn’t rash.

Could you help me open this? My hands are clumsy from the crash.”

He took out a small container, and she lifted up the lid,

And she saw a wedding ring, and said, “Of course I’m still keen, kid.

(31)Now I guess it’s time to take this old ring off, and start anew.”

“You don’t need to take it off,” said Tom, “I’m sure there’s room for two,

Your first ring is on your right hand, as a memory and a token,

And this new one tells the world the sleeping widow has awoken.”

(32)”I can’t believe how sweet you are,” said Angel, “I’ll do what you’ve said,

Now I think you should lie down, since you just hurt your handsome head.

I’ll still stay and keep you company, and make some wedding plans.”

They discussed things, and her sports car soon drove westward, dragging cans.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at THE MANSION IN MEMORY LANE.

The Chrono-Car, and used it to explore the fourth dimension.

He revved it up, and traveled back through 23 years’ history,

And then the engine used up all supplies of his magistery.

Now trapped back when his childhood self had only just turned seven,

And frequently thrown out those brown bread sandwiches with devon

His mother made; Brint chose to spare himself the wierdest meeting.
He steered clear of the school, where he’d endured a frequent beating.

He met a blond haired lady his own age, and slowly courted;

And then they got engaged, but his indulgences were thwarted.

She dyed her hair to brown, and now looked strangely too familiar.

Their three year romance took his thoughts to days of juvenilia.

For Tina now resembled all his deepest recollections:
The teacher in his sixth class year, for whom he held affections,

But couldn’t share, because of different ages and those fissures

Dividing them, because her only known first name was “Mrs.”

So “Tina Long,” her married name, before the timeline altered,

Confronted him with guilt; since he had well and truly faltered,

By stopping her from meeting Mr Long, when he had entered,

And tried to buy a life from her, which he had really rented.

Tormented by morality, he pondered all the choices,

Recalling all those recent dates in cheaply hired Rolls Royces.

Should he arrange for Mr Long and her to meet and marry,

And then seek someone single in the past, where he’d still Tarry?

Or should he marry Tina, and let Mr Long be cheated

Of destined love, if what had gone “before” was not repeated?

He thought that she should know the truth, and do her own deciding,

Confessed (except Long’s name), and hoped his teacher would start guiding.

She said, “I’ll marry you, and have no wish to still discover

Identities of might-have-beens,” which made Brent really love her,

“Why don’t you choose an alias, to safeguard your persona

From sharing names with your young self, who must remain a loner?”

Invent a name like Mr Long, and be my true intended.

Don’t worry how the broken threads of time will all be mended.”

“Did you say Long?” asked Brint, “That means the Mrs Long who taught me

Was married to my older self, while 6th class Brint was naughty.

My childhood self was jealous, while I was my greatest rival:

Your adult husband, while my younger self would seek survival

In mucking up at school. No wonder you gave much attention

To teaching him the right ways, and gave him an hour’s detention.”

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at LONG JOURNEY.

Could it be true that im lost in the stars?

That secret will follow with love in my arms.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Light of Life.

or how the PRAIRIE wind…..goes singing by!

I will not pause an hour again to build
A castle….in the far dim land of DREAM-
Or how the wind flows ever whispering by-
Or bright with GOLDEN LEAVES
THE OLD TREES LEAN!

I think there is an ANGEL very near-
Who tells me how to weave each word….and line:
Then we together sing this SILLYSONG-
Or play it on this Old Violin of mine!

I can not climb again the prairie hills-
Or walk for miles, or dow some dusty lane-
So let me KEEP this only land I know….
Of stars, and gleeming sky……
AND…..FAR OFF RAIN!

Thats as fine a poem as I can write… I didn’t write it, the ANGEL DID….as I say in my song. If its good enough for her, its GOOD ENOUGH FOR ANYBODY…..even John F. Kennedy, only HE is dead. Woner how long it will be before they SHOOT BOBBY?

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

An Angel helped me write these lines-
She is always here with me!
Im sending HER to you today,
In a dreamers poetry!

I tell her “fly away out WEST!”
“Across the prairies wide-
And help a heart to find her rest-
The lonely bed beside!

Thy say there is a better land-
And it must surely be-
Or else why would an Angel come
And…..stay an hour……with me?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at A Better Land.

Dreams, Old Dreams, is a funny old man-
For you never, never can tell0
Which of his dreams, when the night time comes,
HE…..IS BRINGING TO YOU……TO SELL!

It may be a dream, of the “Hellava” time
When Herrman crossed the divide-
Then…durried home….tho no alone…..
For…..Joan….was by his side!

Or it may be a dream of a HAPPY day -
I think it comes in June-
When the Kissners get sick
At the “Big Picnic”……..
Then…..drive home…..under the moon!

Or it may be a dream, of the “Golden Days”-
With all the world in a WHIRL-
And you had bot, that “Hellava” watch-
That you gave…..to the wrong girl!

For all these dreams come drifting home-
When the wind down the river is fair-
You can see them roosting, all alone,
On the Damn Antenna, there!

And….SOMETIMES a dream oof an Unknown Lan,d,
Tho it is not so far-
Te home where we all have to go someday-
The “Land where the angels are”

For every person has his dream
Where ever the wnds blow free!
And I have sent in Golden Rime-
These Dreams….to you from….me!

At ast each dreamer, from his dream,
unwillingly, awoke!
And…neither of his precioius dream
unto the other spoke
But of the love they bore those dreams
Gave each his tender sign!
For…..THERE WAS TRIUMPH in his eyes-
And…ther were TEARS….in mine!”

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Remembering Howard and K..

There is no song so dear to me-
Till lifes last tale is told-
and over her tomb, the silver moon
Turns all her beams, to gold!

Was there a valley of singing trees?
And a kingdom by the sea?
And was there a girl who ran along
By the name of “Annabel Lee”?
Do you think that the Angels cried
When Annabel Lee was gone?

And the moon never beamed
But the Poet dreamed
Of his beautiful Annabel Lee-
And his thoughts went back
To the haunted tomb
Down by the lonely sea……
“TO HER TOMB….BY THE SOUNDING SEA!

My youth is gone, for many a year,
But the moon and the stars still gleam!
And I can never read Annabel Lee
Without going back, in a dream.

An the little valley they left one day
Is the same as it used to be-
And Poe said he was happy there……
IN THAT KINGDOM…….BY……THE……SEA!

And the moon never beams,
Without bringing him drams-
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee………
Yes the moon never beams,
Without bringing him dreams
And the stars that were beight as her eyes……
And the springtime valley they left one day….
Still under the moonlight lies.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at More Annabel Lee.

And I have played it all my life-
Since that golden time-
And every fidddle that I had-
Sang this old song of mine!

“When the moon has climbed the Mountains”
Seemed the sweetest line to me :
Tho I never saw the Mountains-
Beside the prairie sea!

And Nellie Gray was gone one day,
They tied her with a chain-
They wore her girlhood heart away-
Out in the sugar cane!

Till Angels looked down from the sky,
Above the Southern Pine-
And freed the soul of Nellie Gray-
We go floating down the river
As we did in days gone by-
In that happy golden summer, far away.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Nellie Gray.