Thursday, September 29, 2011

Somebody's Love (another 'red' poem)





He loved his mom’s apple strudel
His eyes were kind and blue
He loved a girl named Caroline
And oh, she loved him too
They were going to be married
As soon as the war was done
And maybe if they were lucky
Someday they would have a son

He always loved to play football
Was the high school quarter-back
He didn’t play for a medal
Just played for the love of it
He had a collie named Rover
Best pals, the two of them
Now Rover whimpers every night
Wondering what's taking so long

He was a generous fellow
Walking the second mile
When other were inclined to say no
He offered, with a smile
But nobody knows his attributes
As he lies in the crimson snow
They’ve come to gather the fallen dead
Here lies another John Doe

Beneath each cross in Flanders’ Field
Beneath the sound of a gun
Beneath the weapon or the shield
Is somebody's precious son
Beneath the watchful eye above
The bloodied fallen lie
Oh, pray for they are somebody’s love
For you and yours they die

Janet~
'son' is a generic term here
We pray for all the sons and daughters!

Red is for poppies and rivers of blood.
Red is for freedom.

6 comments:

  1. I saw that "Red" prompt and thought of blood, but I couldn't have written anything like this.

    I did okay up to the last stanza. It brought me to tears.

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  2. Mike,
    Will you forgive me if I say, I'm glad it moved you so? It brought me to tears as I wrote it. There are not enough words in the world with which to say thank-you to those who give all...and that includes the police force, Mike...so please accept my humble thanks. Is it hard to be retired?
    I was reminded in a very grim way of blood as I read the 'red' prompt..., there was a terrible accident close to our driveway this morning. A guy on a motorcycle was hit by a vehicle. I didn't get very close but one of the fire-fighters said it was pretty bad...

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  3. The many loves of our lives, and so many of them red. Nice piece!

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  4. Yes, Eric, it is so interesting to see a person's train of thought sparked by one word:)

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  5. Janet, having served in the Army, I choke up when reading your words that honor the fallen. So many times do we forget the sacrifice that has been given for our freedoms that we now have. Freedom is indeed not free, it has been payed for by so many that have given their all. I remember a drill sergeant saying to our platoon, "There are no rights and freedoms exercised for those in the service to their country. Our job is to protect freedom, but not to exercise it!" So many have given their all, they are but forgotten over the years. Too many times it is another soldier who stands by their grave and gives them their thanks. For they know what sacrifice was given.

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  6. August, There is nothing as authentic as the voice of experience.I agree, the fallen are forgotten far too soon, and so are those serving as we speak! I thank-you for caring, for serving and for your words to remind us how precious freedom is, and at what cost it comes...

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!