Friday, November 11, 2016


 It is Remembrance Day in Canada,
Veteran's Day in the USA

(Today we say our thank-yous
...each day may we live our Thank-yous)

Sometimes I forget
… I butter bread
And fill my head
With dreams and such
While offspring of
A soldier’s love
Makes uncommon,
Life’s common touch

…how those who fell
Loved, oh so well
The life of morrow’s
Girl and boy
And how the cost
Of what they lost
Pays for the freedom
We enjoy


Sometimes I forget
… I butter bread
And fill my head
With dreams and such
While offspring of
A Saviour’s love
Makes uncommon,
Life’s common touch

His blood-drops fell
To save from hell
The soul whose life
Will never cease
He bore the price
Of sacrifice
To pay for freedom
We call Peace

© Janet Martin

Easy Service by Edgar A. Guest

When an empty sleeve or a sightless eye
Or a legless form I see,
I breathe my thanks to my God on High
For His watchful care o'er me.
And I say to myself, as the cripple goes
Half stumbling on his way:
I may brag and boast, but that brother knows
Why the old flag floats to-day.

I think as I sit in my cozy den
Puffing one of my many pipes
That I've served with all of my fellow men
The glorious Stars and Stripes.
Then I see a troop in the faded blue
And a few in the dusty gray,
And I have to laugh at the deeds I do
For the flag that floats to-day.

I see men tangled in pointed wire,
The sport of the blazing sun,
Mangled and maimed by a leaden fire
As the tides of battle run,
And I fancy I hear their piteous calls
For merciful death, and then
The cannons cease and the darkness falls,
And those fluttering things are men.

Out there in the night they beg for death,
Yet the Reaper spurns their cries,
And it seems his jest to leave them breath
For their pitiful pleas and sighs.
And I am here in my cosy room
In touch with the joys of life,
I am miles away from the fields of doom
And the gory scenes of strife.

I never have vainly called for aid,
Nor suffered real pangs of thirst,
I have marched with life in its best parade
And never have seen its worst.
In the flowers of ease I have ever basked,
And I think as the Flag I see
How much of service from some it's asked,
How little of toil from me.


  1. Thank you Janet - I wrote out your poem in my journal - my quiet, contemplative way of pausing and remembering. I am so thankful there are those who can put into words thoughts that are so hard to express


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