Thank The Living Souls

And lost souls, too We mustn’t forget them Sun marches across the sky Leaves behind another day Poppies waving gently In red dotted field Poppy red, dead red Black soil, sweet soil The wagon rolls on Boots reversed in stirrups Taps and gun salute Widow hugs the flag Somewhere, sometime, Someone remembers them The silver drop cleanses Refreshes them to mind Memory returns an image … Continue reading Thank The Living Souls

Reblog: Memorial 1 and 2, by Stephen McGuinness

1.
Remember
The human.
A curse on
The uniform.
Isn’t it enough that
He is dead?
Torn from his
Mother’s grasp.
Rent asunder,
Ripped,
Shredded,
Buried.
He shall not
Grow old….
As if he had
A choice.
Glorious dead?
There is no glory
In fear, in pain,
In cold wet clay.
They are all the same
These memorials.
Old men cry out
For the next generation
To poison.
2.
Don’t poison my boys
as we were poisoned
with dreams of freedoms
that never occur.
Heroes puddled in blood.
Monuments, graves to visit,
murals to the dead.
The notion that they
can gain by sacrificing
themselves for a nation,
as if any scrap of ground
is worth their beautiful lives.

Continue reading “Reblog: Memorial 1 and 2, by Stephen McGuinness”

Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty

For Dad John William Pennington 12/29/1926 – 12/10/1994. GM2C US Navy WWII; SSGT USAF Korea, Vietnam There are two kinds of dead in war: those who die and those who live. Those who die stay dead; those who live die again and again and again until, someday, they too stay dead. He died in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa, but lived another … Continue reading Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty

A Wished-For Love, Chapter One

This is the final edit of chapter one. Feedback is welcome. Would you continue reading? Invocation Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam 1970 They say you don’t hear the bullet that kills you. How could anyone know that? Because, they also say, bullets move faster than the speed of sound. By the time you hear the sound of the bullet in your back, you’re dead. What if … Continue reading A Wished-For Love, Chapter One

Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty

For my father, John William Pennington 12/29/1926 – 12/10/1994. US Navy WWII; USAF Korea, Vietnam There are two kinds of dead in war: those who die and those who live. Those who die stay dead; those who live die again and again and again until, someday, they too stay dead. He died in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa, but lived another forty-nine … Continue reading Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty

Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty

There are two kinds of dead in war: those who die and those who live. Those who die stay dead; those who live die again and again and again until, someday, they too stay dead. He died in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa, but lived another forty-nine years filled with anger that he did not die in the war and stay dead. … Continue reading Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty