The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior


The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior

Sunday, November 18, 2007

The Climbing Tree

We ran all day and climbed the trees
Without the fear of falling
But with respect for gravity
And always felt it calling

We rode in cars without air bags
The steel dashboard projecting
On slick hard seats in front and back
With no seatbelts protecting

We ate the food called poison now
And still grew into Titans
Because we ran or rode our bikes
And did our own fist fightin’

We heard an independent call
And hated slavery’s chains
We roamed at will and rode the waves
And suffered freedom’s pains

That one or two were taken out
Pursuing freedom’s verve
Was caution tale and understood
And served to steel our nerve

Yet now the children prattle by
In uniforms once earned
A tear comes to my wizened eye
And lesson hard is learned

The pain that you’re protecting from
Was once a stage of growth
So choose between a man or child
You cannot have them both

Sunday, November 11, 2007

To The Veteran

For every hero on the stage
On parade or in the grave
With medals pinned and glory flags unfurled

The humble serviceman by scores
Packs the caissons, Guards the doors
Sails sea and sky across the troubled world

Comrades in arms who heard the call
And stepped across that line for all
Knowing well that fate might call their name

They crossed that sword mark in the dust
For freedoms sake and God they trust
And did it not for fortunes gold or fame

So on Remembrance Day give thanks
To veterans past and current ranks
And Praise Eternal God that they were there

Oh quiet heroes, every one
Without your hand, naught would be won
Pray our acclaim, the purest badge you wear

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My families came to Texas when It still belonged to Spain.



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