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
The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior
Aware
The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior
Sunday, November 18, 2007
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)