Tag Archives: war

King and Countrymen

’twas morning, some time ago –
I think – nor might remember then,
a cool wind did wrestle my somber blackness.
Hazen, my eyes found the sun –
whether morning peeking –
… or days end peaking –
I know not.
My mind does come and go –
Whirlwinds of moments,
here and there –
inbetween the black despair…
my stunned mind drifts away –
to some place, some where…
God-sent sleep – or loss of blood –

Should certain be – that hours pass –
before my mind comes again.
For once the smoke of battle field strong –
and the next it goes away –
as do the cries of other men flung –
downed by battle’s way.

So here, dear King and countrymen,
do here my body lay –
With hopes of glory reigning then –
above my simple grave.
E’er should we sing, or dance again –
to celebrate this day –
Do not call me patriot friend –
for a life so lost away.
As all shall find in the end,
A price too high to pay –
for any soul lost in war –
to mere King and countrymen.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Love Elusive

If one could search for love so kind –
from ocean’s depth to narrow shore…
so rare a beauty as ever find
as though never searched before.

Yet in the human heart lies trust –
a desire that tickles the soul.
In our bodies we simply must –
Find love to make us whole….

But within that quest, of broken dream,
finds nere the song of love’s requiem,
For her shadow is sparse with invisible seam,
lying broken, invariably lost in-between.

For closer to heart than love’s yearning call –
lies hungry start of monstrous endeavor.
A bloody war where the good shall fall –
beautiful life lost for nothing better.

The screams for mother and country so dear,
breathing the bloody stumps of men….
And he, so bland, raise a hand to cheer
such violent death of countrymen.

What of love for times as these –
gone to hide ‘midst the forest…
seeking shelter behind the leaves
of hatred’s enchanting chorus.

Search my young friend, far and low,
for that love so well hidden –
and when if found, let your heart come round,
to pray that war be ridden.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Circle’s End

A Sopwith flew,
as tensions grew,
Black cross on red denied.

A dozen men,
a thousand when,
lives are lost to pride.

A spawn of war,
on to more,
upon his hateful stride.

Six million Jews,
laid by crews,
who only went to hide.

Korea next,
Saigon flexed,
and the whole world cried.

Do you think your goal is new?
that when your mayhem is through…
We should think greater of you?

The circle lives because of men like you.
Just a cold, dark heart in wintry stew.

Fuck you, terrorist.
(with a little “t”)

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“Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.”

Ernest Hemingway

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