The cloth

Striped markings on a cloth…
An identity
A tribe
A religion
A child marked for death,
Marked for life
A life marked for greatness,
Marked by God
A child’s swaddling cloth,
Now a Prince’s robe
And the hope of a people.


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


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The dust settles, back upon the earth,
dry, barren, covering
the dried blood of the fallen;
For another’s ideals, we give our life,
alive, like a flower,
now scattered like its pollen.
By my brother’s side, we’ve fought through hell
killed, rejoiced, and in
another’s name, vied for victory;
Motes rest upon my open unseeing eyes,
but I will walk into Valhalla,
chosen by the Valkyrie.
Would that I could see her face again,
smiling, loving, but
she lives, and I must move on,
Until the day, when I shall be joined,
by her and the one
she raises, my boy, my son!

 


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


‘tender

Fire rages, and bonds break loose
conscience cracks, and the Hangman’s Noose
appeals to more than just the mind
to leave this cruel cruel world behind.

Into the night, beyond The Wet Grave
the soul soars, rides the wave
of the spirit’s high, the devil’s grin;
seeing without, reaching within!

An internal inferno burns and ignites
a glance at the window, its not even night…
I must have started a little too soon,
and now? unto death, Death in the Afternoon.

Darkened skies, spectral visions
my body host to fusion… fission?
to the ‘tender I then cry
“it is time for the Last Goodbye”

 


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


This is it

This is it…

I’ve reached the end of the fabled line,
been around the block…
done my time.

The God’s have spoken, issued a decree,
“Your time is up!
Now… be free”

But I want to live, and want to Love!
Or is that selfish?
A wish to Love?

I want the chains, the trappings of life,
not freedom of death,
A bond to life.

“My time was short…”, “No, it was enough,
’twas your choice to live
off the cuff”

Those choices reflect what’s then to be,
what might be regretted
for eternity.

This is it.

 


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


An end to longing

In the dark hours of the new dawn,
a bird whistles, a knell
On the beach, at low tide,
schools of fishes swim to shore;

Upon the pave, with a whisper,
A yellow leaf falls at midnight,
And the waning moon howls
at the running wolves below.

 


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.