One Cannon #haiku #memorialday

rough log house

surviving century’s seasons

feather beds

*

beneath cool shade

verdant battlefield covers scars

blood stains

*

whistling through reeds

sun warms each blade of grass

soldiers memories

…And they fell. No matter the mother’s sorrow or the lover’s tears they could not be revived. Such is the fate of the fallen warrior. I chose to be grateful for the sacrifice and  the bravery.

X where the roads meet #atozchallenge #Uganda

Can I paint a picture for you where four roads meet and a story is told?

A young man closes his eyes and I hear a six-year-old huff and puff as  his feet dash  from tree to tree.

“Please soldiers don’t look up from your noon day sleep.”

He and his family run back to their hut to get some of their belongings.

“There it is the book that my teacher gave me to read.”

A dusty road forks and a long line of refugees trudge southward.

“No one wants you” people wave their hands to ward them off.

makeshift wooden buildings are put up in the south

“Stay here. No one cares.”

Some at the end of the war don’t return the journey is too painful

Others have lived on the edge of the war  zone – waiting

The dust on the road finally clears

one family then two return to a village of ashes

“I look at myself playing dangerous games as a child. I could have been shot.”

Everyone has lost loved ones.

The land welcome the Acholi home.

The young man is expecting a child soon.

He points down the road.

“There is a tree where we have prayed. We are almost there.”

I see pride rise like the sun in his face.

“This is our church. ” He points at two sprawling trees.

“God hears us rain or  shine.”

We give children water and cookies under the prayer tree.

I see a piece of the fourth road as we drive away.

It isn’t clear what it will hold.

It is filled with hopes.

Acholi tribes to prosper

Orphans healthy and safe

Rain  falls on fertile soil

I hope to be there to see the dust settle.

These amazing people the Acholi have known so much loss, terror, hardship and yet it is in their rightful ancestral land where refugees are being welcome to rebuild their lives. Uganda is the third largest country in the world to offer refuge to the war-torn people of our world.

Thanks to the A to Z challenge for allowing me to share about these people the Acholi and Uganda.

The Ultimate Sacrifice #memorialday

soldier's helmet

Wind beats at the flag above the memorial

nothing still about the death of these lads

they stood impossible ground

defying the odds as they fought

as the storm raged they trudged

I lift my eyes unable to stifle a tear

names of men that I will never know

who died that I might enjoy freedom

air force memorial

Today we celebrate those who died not just in service to our country but because they believed in the cause of freedom. I salute their bravery in thanks.

 

Not Ashamed #poetry #freedom #veterans

posterized sail

Sails billow as they unfurl

we prepare to release our mooring

waiting expectantly for the wind

to greet our faces

as we set sail

and why should we be ashamed?

Quickly and purposely

we unchock the wheels

remove the air intake blocks

pull the flags covering the pitot

engines start to cycle

and why should I be ashamed?

Her sails grab at the wind

the props cause everything loose to ruffle

We greet the day

knowing that those we love

are setting the dandelions free

our children should not be ashamed!!!

boys

 

I like most of the men and women who choose to serve their country (in the armed forces) do it so that children can run free in the dandelion fields rather than be used as a weapons.

 

Poets United so kindly sponsors Poetry Pantry each Sunday.

Silenced #hiroshima #poetry #poem

 

Captive in the frame

Captive in the frame

Awakened from deafening noises

pushing away this long night mare

unsuccesful I rub my dark eyes

trying to look through a dusty cloud

I shake cob webs that I wear

Looking in a mirror

I lay back on the floor

 fear grabs me as I  curl up

knowing that this dream must end

or destruction has claimed my world

 

 Poet’s United Wednesday Motif is reflecting on the 69th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima or A-Bomb Day. We are prompted to write from the point of view of a character then or now.

Changing Seasons #Bible #ourworld #war

 

a touch of cherry

Blessing comes in the form of peace

safe haven while war rages about

Blessing comes in refreshment

sparkling waters flow in time of drought

blessing comes in the form of life

leaves remain green though nothing lives

blessing comes in the form of provision

 there is enough when resources are destitute

~MDW

 

Are you seeing the seasons changing? Life (presently) seems to be battered by storms of all types. You saved and planned for the future and most of that is now ashes crumbling between your fingers.

Look at the world from above. What was once blue and flowing is now a brown stench of an orb.

God promises life, peace, and an unadulterated stream even as everything is caving in. He will not turn against us during this time of warring and corruption. He promises safety and to replenish us.

Jeremiah 17: 7-8 says:

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

 

leaf drop

They Call her Peace #poetry #photography

octrose

A rose called Peace

In my hand I held her

a fragrance that grows faint

she dipped into the sunshine

we insulted her with paint

*

In my hand I held her

not wanting to let her go

breezy calm like spring time

I wish they’d let her grow

*

In my hand I held her

though she damaged by the storm

the reds of hate assailed her

hopes and dreams were dashed and torn

*

In my hand I held her

she seems so out of reach

man  bent on world dominion

her name – they call her Peace

Kim’s prompt for Poet’s United / Verse First is Close to the Source. When I saw the little blossom on my rose bush (this am), I felt the need to write this for her. The bugs and deer rarely leave a bloom. The symbolism is strong for this little rose.

poets united