Blinded by the light, he saw nothing. Screaming and bombs going off all around him. He prayed; he prayed that he may see light again. He thought of his wife of only 2 years. Even through the darkness he could see her tears flowing down her cheeks as the minister announced he could kiss his bride. The tiny grip that held fast around his finger. The smell of new life still lingered in his nostrils. Peach fuzz softer than anything he had ever touched. His baby girl; a product of the love he had for his wife. He could see the smiling faces of the two who had raised him. The gentle squeeze of his mother’s slender fingers and the grip that rested on his shoulders from his father as they waved goodbye. He could still see her pulling a white hankie from her purse and dabbing at her tears and the arms that wrapped around her trying to soothe away the pain from watching their son get on the dull-green bus. Someone tugged at his shirt. “Are you ok buddy? Are you ok”? This was the last words he remembered as he sunk into a darkness he had never visited before. He never felt his helmet being pulled off. He never saw the tears that were shed when the soldier took in all of the injuries. He never knew that he had been pulled back out of gunshot. He never knew the risk that had been taken to save a life. Coolness came over him. Strange voices muttered amongst the room as his mind became aware he was not dead. . He was alive. He had been rescued. It was over and he was on his way home. Two voices he recognized; mom and dad’s. A familiar hand rested upon his hand and he instantly knew it was his wife. They were close. He could smell their familiar scent. Old Spice, his dad; Timeless, his mother; Musk, his wife. Where was his daughter? He wanted to hear a scream, a cry, a giggle, anything? Was she alright? Someone’s cold hand moved his eye lid open. Soft-spoken words coming from the background. There has been no change. The swelling on the brain has not come down. Blindness will be permanent, but he has everything else. This is one lucky son-of-a-bitch to have gotten out of that spot alive. Blindness, permanent, those two words stung in his heart and burned in his mind. He would never see again. He could hear crying. He could hear noses being blown. He could hear soothing words coming from his father as he tried to comfort the family. A baby cried and as the sound neared he heard his wife say, ” I want Grace to be with her daddy, just one more time”. He screamed but no one heard him. He shouted at the top of his mind, ” I am not dead! See me! I am not dead! I am alive”. No one seemed to hear him. He lay there still, listening to the sounds around him, taking in the visions in his mind of yesterdays gone by.
You may write a poem in any style or form about our fallen heroes. Memorial Day was celebrated for our convenience on 5-25-15. It originally was determined to be on May 30. It is believed that date was chosen because flowers would be in bloom all over the country. If you are not in the U.S., you may write about your special day in your country. Explanation about your poem is permissible. THIS TIME YOUR PHOTOS ARE PERMITTED TO BE ATTACHED IN YOUR COMMENT AREA. You may post as many poems as you want but comments are counted per poem only. Please no poems about BBQ and sales on this day.
Winner will be judged by the most original comments. One person can make many comments but only counts as one comment for winning at the end of the time limit. Your own comments do not count because you cannot judge your own poem. Comments being counted begins on May 26th, 9:30pm if this event was posted earlier than stated date/time.
Contest will be from May 26 until June 2, 9:30 pm. All members are invited to enter this contest. You can add your friends to join. Challenge them.
Administrators may post examples of poems but are not eligible to win. Administrators can like your poems but their comments do not count.
A new prompt will be posted every week. Winner will be posted on the main group page.
I know they called
You have a job to do
I have to step aside
Remember my love for you
I look through the glass
With rain and tear drops mixed
I watch for the man to walk
I keep my face so fixed
You see I received a letter
Telling me there was news
I couldn’t help feel the flutter
In my heart as it turned blue
No more smiles on my face
As he read the letter out loud
The news of you missing
From deep within the crowd
I will forever cling to hope
Watching out the door
Although others try to remind me
That you are for never more.
Terry’s Thoughts in Poetry (Facebook Page)
Here is your FWF prompt…
Let’s leap into the future with a time & place scenario.
The year: 2063
The place: An underground bunker
What’s going on?
This is a hard one for me. I deal with so much in 2013 I don’t think about 2063. It is scary to say out loud that I won’t be alive. I will have lived a good life and in that year I will be sitting by God looking down at who knows what.
I guess it doesn’t matter, since I won’t be here to live it.
Although I do wish my grandchildren the best of luck. They are young enough now that they most likely will adapt very well.
They will look back at people like me and wonder why we got so excited over a microwave. Or how about when they make fun of me because I own the latest version of a cell phone? Well what ever the case, at least I am still not using two paper cups and a piece of kite string for a phone.
I can taste and season my own foods. I know my way around and don’t have to worry about falling into any moon puddles or craters. I know how to use my simple cell phone and I can program my own ring tones and pick my own wallpaper. My car is still made in the United States of America, and I can still choose which gas station and what kind of gas I choose to use.
As far as wars go, I have lived all these years with war going on and off. I am sure God has the perfect answer in how to end this useless fighting. So for this I will just sit by God and watch him work his miracles.
And last but not least, I sort of like the skin I wear right now. I don’t think I want to see me looking like my next door neighbor’s dog. So I will take what I have and be content, for I am pretty sure that some things will be exciting in the future, but I am certain that I would be lost and realize that there is no place like home. http://youtu.be/4IErqIMLwtQ
No one came by. No one every knew that he existed. Taking up space, breathing new air, heart beating. One lonely man, one of many million living here on earth.
A veteran, served in the war. Memories of gun shots and bombs. Captured by the enemy. Watching his friends bleed to death.
A mama so proud and papa, a hard worker. Worked the land by hand with his mule. Saturday nights everyone in the household got their weekly bath. Mama mending torn socks, sewing on buttons, letting the hems out. Sunday mornings spent at the tiny wooden school. It was converted into a church one day a week. Mama would take the wax from the candle and find use for it somewhere. Mama was what we today would call a hoarder.
Papa was a proud man. Wouldn’t take a dime from anyone. I can remember many a day eating rice or beans. Mama would try to make it interesting by adding different spices or bits of left-over meat, but rice was rice and beans were beans when it was all said and over.
From the time I was old enough to understand I helped Papa with whatever he asked. There was no asking questions and no arguing allowed. I was taught to respect my elders or get whipped with a tree switch.
Once a month all the neighbors would get together and have a carry in dinner right after church. Oh how I looked forward to those days. A boy my age could fill up on anything sitting in front of him. I can still remember Mama asking the women folk,”where does that boy put all that food?”
I became the center of attention as I could stuff my body more than anyone else could. Then after we were all done eating, us kids would go to the old swimming hole and wear ourselves out, leaving the old folks to talk the afternoon a way.
Us kids would be so tuckered out our parents never had to tell us it was time to get ready for bed on those nights. Slipping my night-clothes on and pulling my tattered quilt up to my head my eyes would shut before my mind even had a chance to think about it.
Yep, those were the days. We were poor but we were happy. We wanted but needed nothing. We learned and we taught the younger kids. Life was good.
Now here I sit, out by myself. Everything my Mama and Papa had taught me remains sharp in my mind. I can whip me up the best tasting soup ever. I can shoot a rabbit and once a week have a grand feast. I take a bath when need be. I don’t take a dime off of anyone.
I got my dog for company and my God to guide me. You did good Mama and Papa. You taught me well. I am just fine. I am poor but I am happy. I want but need nothing.
A day so gray
As I kneel
And give thanks
A day so gray
As I kneel
And give thanks
To you who
Is this what
You felt as
You lay there
In pain blood
From your eyes
Was it gloomy
Is the weather
That our time
To an end
Be ever more?
- Tears Mirrored By The Raindrops (formerchubbygirl.wordpress.com)
- The Night Rain (marlonspoetry.wordpress.com)
- It should really rain today (tracesofthesoul.wordpress.com)
- The last ride of a raindrop (cynicsnchocolate.wordpress.com)
- it shall pass (variedemotions.wordpress.com)
- A wee blessing 🙂 (littlemisskathrynmcmartin.wordpress.com)
- Confessions of a Muslimah Part 7: Silence (omaraa3.wordpress.com)
- blessings (engineeringhousewife.wordpress.com)
- A Little Heart (wordswithnoname.wordpress.com)