Antietam Creek

Antietam Creek

How is it now that we are borne

Upon this wave of sacrifice
Whose lives were bound for greater things

Yet now, we pay the price
And whose firm shoulders turned to bear

The blows for those behind
Into our foe we press ourselves

As fates grim judgment pares the rind
Oh how we think our selves above

Things more eternal than we stand
And bear upon our enemy

With death or life in glov'd hand.
Stand not as what great wind may blow

Fore swear, we say we will advance
Like waves of grain encumbering

The field for sure will be entranced
Against that wind we throw ourselves

For those we have behind
And fates grim judgment pares the rind

Pray Justice, pares the rind

"O beautiful for glory-tale
of liberating strife
when once and twice
for mans avail
Men lavished precious life!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!

Decoration Day

We woke up well before the dawn
Each last Monday in May
And went to all the soldiers graves
On Decoration Day

Then in full dress of blue and gold
With sash and badge and pin
We'd clean and trim and place a flag
For all our fallen kin

Day greater then than Four July
We tallied freedoms bill
And cooked upon an open fire
Till all were fully filled

Then more to point the morrows morn
Each generation train
That those with decorated grave
Have not fallen in vain

Spin

In the wind that blows through the cosmos
Is a vibe pitched higher each day
And it drags to the edges the weak and the mad
Spinning faster and faster they say

But as Hesse put forth in Siddhartha
Those who internalize all
Will step to the middle of life's dual paths
In mastery of their inner call

As the lost and extreme on the edges
Fall to sainthood or debauching style
I'll follow the path of the gentle and meek
Everyday putting myself on trial

Ode to John Gillespie Magee, Jr

John Gillespie Magee, Jr penned the poem High Flight.
My humble sonnet for him

Heaven’s Gate

Oh valiant lad who seized the sky
And took to wing with heart in hand
Where combat raged in final verdicts
Thor’s hammer at your young command

While in such mortal combat there
The poet’s expanding spirit soaring
And with that same heart carried forth
Upon the page with love your mooring

The true and brave who shared your sky
Who hurtled through the air and cloud
O’er heath and sea, to save your kin
Their hearts though mourning, shimmering proud

Regret ye not their eyes are teared
When Glory bound to find your fate
Your pen and linen wait for you
Upon the path to Heaven’s Gate

Shambhala

The sun still rises, I still wake
Oh where the Lord your soul did take
I weep alone
And wonder why
Is all we see fair doomed to die

None may escape the reapers blade
E'en the earth, the Lord has made
Where we reside
This little time
Biding for the sweet sublime

The promise made, we tell our kind
Of all reborn in God's Good Time
And e'en the earth
A plain of glass
Where Shambhala will stand at last

Now I will rise and seek my fate
The Dharma's wheel, it cannot wait
Then I will ride
Until it's done
E'er closer to a setting sun

So come my friends, we'll ride abreast
And pray we can withstand the test
Take a hand
Climb aboard
We'll trust the Word spake by The Lord