Reader Submitted Poetry: Glory

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The War Suite - 4: Glory
------

Another year has passed again,
he hung on his crutch in the driving rain.
The parade of young ones marched by,
with music and banners that filled the sky.
Quietly, since there was nothing to say,
the one legged man, met up again that day.

He was the last of the expeditionary force,
expected to be present, of course.
They knew his number, rank and name,
they said that the enemy was to blame.
The mayor, from the tribune, told the same old story,
ending with words like: Sacrifice! Honor! and GLORY!

Glory! What the HELL is that worth?
Glory! That is nothing but HELL on earth.
Glory! I was lucky, I just lost my leg.
Glory! My friend was found like a broken egg.
He was GLORIOUSLY torn apart by a gunpowder keg.
Don't give me that about HONOR and GLORY!
Mayor, I want to hear you say: We are so very sorry..

/Laura to war victims, who are forgotten and neglected
March 5, 2019
 

Reader Submitted Poetry: The Gray Platoon

 

The War Suite - 3: The Gray Platoon

She saw them coming over the moor.
pinching her arm to be sure.
She wanted to shout his name,
but it would not matter, it was just the same.
They were not there. They were gone for long,
and yet, she swore she could hear their song.

And if she listened hard enough
she heard his voice, sure enough.
"Please wait for me, my darling Rose!
When I return, I will propose!"
For seconds only, she saw them pass,
Fragile. As if they were made of glass.

The Gray Platoon of the dead, marched by,
and the old old woman wiped a corner of her eye.
They died that day. Bodies never found.
Shattered bones, tossed around...
Sara never got her Patrick back.
He was vaporized in a grenade attack.

/Laura, to those whose lovers never came home. March 5 - 2019

Submitted by Aola Tyrian
 

Reader Submitted Poetry: The Soldier

 
The War Suite - 2: The Soldier

The battle fog hung heavy over the killing field.
 Broken and scattered remains were revealed,
when the wind dispersed the veil,
that shrouded a soldier sitting alone on a pail.
Descending towards the soldier - the angel of death.
No sound was heard, not even a breath.

The angel landed, folding her wings,
and there was a single tone, of a bell that rings.
It was ONE of the sounds the soldier heard.
The other was a song of a joyful bird.
Said the soldier to the angel:
Take me! I am ready.

Said the angel: You have done what you could.
You did your duty, when others fell, you stood.
Come with me Soldier, now it is your turn.
No more sorrows. No pain. No burn.
I take you to the eternal rest.
You died a soldier, and your soldier soul is blessed.

/Laura, March 3, 2019. To the ones who fell in battle.

Submitted by Aola Tyrian
 

Reader Submitted Poetry: Be Ready When The Call Comes

 
The War Suite: 1: Be Ready When The Call Comes

Be ready when the call comes!
Be ready! Be ready!
Be ready when you hear the drums!
Hold the mare steady!

Sit up, ride with us, to the task ahead,
the task that you fear and dread -
Nothing else can curl your soul,
more than this, our task and goal.

Hold your head up, be proud,
sing with a voice that is clear and loud!
You will sweep fear away.
Not even demons will dare to stay.

The path ahead, is one direction.
There is no shield and no protection.
Be ready, hold your head up high.
This is the day, when you fall and die.

/Laura March 4 -2019 for the War Pavillion

Submitted by by Aola Tyrian (Ratatosk Independent)
 

Reader Submitted Poetry

 

Submitted by Aola Tyrian (Ratatosk Independent):

A Song to Humanity
-----------------------

To be human is many things.
It is very human to communicate.
but also running, because you are late.
To pluck a tune on them guitar strings,
Is a very human thing to do,
singing is very human too.

In fact, creating something clever,
that springs a songbird when you pull a lever,
with another human smiling, as its only purpose
is very human too, of course!
.....but so is being callous....
....and doing mean things out of malice -
letting your heart grow cold and coarse...

I want to be human on the sunny side,
and not to hurt and laugh when my victim cried.
It is not always an easy thing
to say words that does not hurt or sting.
To stand up for a stranger,
and help the stranger from misery and danger,
is a human good, that you can do -
because that stranger, is a human too.

 Laura, trying to to be a good human.

About Rhythm
---------------

Life has its own rhythm. Every day has its own rhythm.
I feel the beat and enjoy it.
There is a code to life, an algorithm -
that lives themselves emit.

There is a song that you can hear
but only with an open mind.
Built up by souls from far and near.
It is the song of human kind.

The music is both weak and strong -
Sung from New Yorkers to Achaeans.
Sung now, before, during eons.
It is the song about where we belong.

Take my hand and walk with me
along the path that life outlined!
Lets join the chorus, lets turn the key
and unleash the song of human kind.

Laura, February 20, 2019
 

SL Poetry: "Incoming Light" And "Real Life Is Calling Me"

   Incoming Light

It was a restful situation
In the middle of the day
A smoke and peanut butter sandwich
My book before me lay
The book had my attention
That book it ate my lunch
'Cause what the man was trying to say
I didn't have a hunch

I couldn't understand his words
On a certain page
So I read them over and over again
Like a mad man on a rage

Then, suddenly I got it
The Truth had opened wide
I thought to give my eyes a rest
And set that book aside
But when my eyes reopened
It wasn't quite the same
The light was getting brighter
In my direction it came

   chorus
Incoming light
Brighter than the sun
Incoming light
You and I are one
Incoming light
You called me son

The light kept getting brighter
I could see right through my hand
But the hand was made of the very same light
And now I understand
Then blue sky rolled away
And stars before me lay
But not just separate points of light
They're connected in a spiral kind of way

The answer to every question
In this land could be found
But I asked nothing for myself
'Cept how to spread this news around
Then from somewhere up above
A heavenly voice did come
Imagine what it meant to me
When it called me Son

   chorus
Incoming light
Brighter than the sun
Incoming light
You and I are one
Incoming light
You called me son

Becky Shamen

* * * * *

"Real Life Is Calling Me"

Real Life is call-ling me,
Real Life is call-ling me,
I'm sorry, I can't stay,
I'm sorry, I gotta go,
Real Life is call-ling me.

Maybe there's thunder and lightning,
and me without a surge protector.
Maybe something went "crash" outside,
and it was much bigger than a woodpecker.

Maybe my neighbor called,
and he really really needs a hand,
Or maybe my dog just ate,
a pack of rubber bands.

I don't have time to tell you now,
so you'll just have to take my word,
I'm not signing off because,
I think you're acting like a nerd.

Real Life is call-ling me,
Real Life is call-ling me,
I'm sorry, I can't stay,
I'm sorry, I gotta go,
Real Life is call-ling me.

Bixyl Shuftan

SL Poetry: Fall

Fall is a slow but beautiful death

The end of the bounty,

of growth.

With a last hurrah the trees triumphantly display all their colors;

flowers struggle to hang on to the last vestiges of sun and warmth,

but they too will wither and die.

Trees shed their leaves and stand barren in their wake.

We harvest and reap the product of the summer's hard labor

we reap what we sow...

Insects begin their desperate struggle to live,

creeping into homes, buzzing about frantically.

The sun wanes more and more each passing day

and its warmth diminishes.

School starts, traffic snarls;

With dreary resolution we dive back into the very humdrum aspects

of life.

Summer is gone...we prepare for the dead of winter.

Shellie Sands

Poetry - Christmas Notes to a Once Husband

Pale sun
lights the waning December afternoon,
presents bought, but still unwrapped...

The house is for sale,
by either the bank or the tax man...

Your oldest girl just turned 35...

I know you never liked the season,
in fact, you were Mr. Bah Humbug himself...
we suffered somewhat from that.

My children and I are all together this holiday season,
it has been a long time...

You will be missed by some,
others, not

My hope is, that wherever your soul is
You will at last enjoy this season
of good tidings and good will
and accept it for what it is

Rest in peace my once husband.

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry by Shellie Sands

I curse you!

I loathed you so I left

Now I curse you cause you're dead!

You left me with the fallout, the expense, the children to deal with

I hope you are in a better place and

I hope there is someone wherever you are

to welcome you

and love you

But LET them love you!

Shed those negative thoughts, feelings

let the negative things in your body float away

Give it up!

RIP William

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - Intimate Moments and Thoughts of Us

A time to lay together
when comfort envelops us
like a soft, warm blanket.
The times are few and far between
but we relish them
like good food or fine wine.

Such hope laced with
trepidation;
such joy laced with
fear...
The joy courts uncertainty,
The fear carries sorrow.

And one day
The dam will break,
and every hope, dream and fear I have
will go crashing downstream
as rapids over jagged rock
magnificent in their freedom
and the truth will be revealed.

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - Life Cycle

the old tall oak
stands firm in its roots
it has stood there for many years
wind blows, rustling its leaves

still green leaves
splashed against
a perfect cerulean sky
on an october afternoon
an idyllic scene

it welcomes the birds that come
and perch on its branches
each day

the birds convene
they chatter back and forth
the tree smiles
it loves them like children

and the birds have had their meeting
they fly of in a gathered flock
as though children of the wind

And the tree smiles once again
and bids them farewell ...for today

They will be back tomorrow
and the cycle will repeat


Shellie Sands

SL Poetry: Revelations

I know now clearly

the difference between sex
and love

Souls rediscovering each other
the other half to our own
hearts beating together
arms and bodies embracing
like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces
made to interlock
designed to complete one whole

I am at a loss to describe perfection;
it is unfamiliar to me.

and as the reconnection moves forward
our love continues to grow and blossom
our hearts grin wider and wider
and our souls smile their wisdom...
they know they are home.

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - Pandora's Box

One has to wonder
why certain events unfold
at the time points in our lives
that they do.

A chance encounter online
opened an unexpected
Pandora's Box,
erasing away years of time

This Pandora's Box released
great joy, love and passion,
comfort and trust
the likes of which had not previously come to pass .

You came and breathed new life into me
at a time when I thought
there was nothing left to inhale.

Stunned by our reaction to each other,
thinking about what we might have had,
could have been...
but it was not our time.
We moved on through our separate lives
almost not remembering,
yet never completely forgetting

Fate, however, has chosen our time
quite mysteriously.
The obstacles seem insurmountable,
the terrain rugged and unexplored.

Patience and determination,
love and trust
These must be our guides
if we are to arrive at the place
that fate has chosen for us.
The journey begins...

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - Ocean Home

The magnificence of the ocean
it's strength and sheer power;
it is wondrous and haunting,
and spellbinding all at once.

I watch in awe
as the waves do their sidewinding dance along the shoreline,
rising and falling,
pushing then pulling back,
like a hesitant lover.

The waves lap up against me
in a nudging gesture of welcome.
The ebb tide pulls me hard
willing me to go,
and the sea whispers...
welcome home, my sister soul,
this is where you belong.

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - I Know A Man

I know a man
who became jaded by life
by events and scenarios
beyond his control.
He lost himself along the way.
I know a man who wanted
to take control
but didn't know how
looking to others
to do it for him.
Radically oppositional,
he is alone
in his misery.

I know a man
enormously talented
engaging and intelligent
sarcastically amusing.
He controls what he can
and ignores the rest.
Idealistic to a fault,
he is sensitive and loving.
Trying to find himself and
his personal utopia.
I fear it will remain beyond his grasp
until he can manage
his own reality.

I know a man
who tried hard in life
but had more failure than success.
Constantly seeking the
approval of others,
attracting many, but keeping few.
Overwhelmed by feelings of
abandonment,
he is lost and afraid.
It drives all he does.

I know a man,
whose accreditations
and common interest
piqued my curiosity upon meeting.
I said "hello."
A family man
smart and witty,
he has been my sounding board
for ideas and thoughts.
He is wise but doesn't believe it.
The biggest shoulders I know,
upon which I have cried many a time.
He is my strength
and my guidance.
I am not saying goodbye.

I know a man.

Shellie Sands

SL Poetry - The Pedastal

It's a funny thing how we
sometimes place people on a pedastal
it's a fine line between trust
and uncertainty

Some trust unwittingly
without fear
knowing they are justified in that trust
no chance of betrayal in any way

And then...
without notice
that trust crumbles
dissolves into ...
nothingness
and we are left to feel
outwitted, used perhaps
fooled into believing

the pedastal vanishes
and we feel foolish for ever
having placed anyone on it

And IF we are smart
IF we learn from it
There will BE no more pedastals
and we will walk away
knowing...for the time being
that everyone
is flawed


Shellie Sands