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How does the meadow
flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its roots and in that freedom, bold.
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Dulce et decorum este
Pro patria mori
Bent double, like old beggars under
sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through
sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped, Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys--An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clusy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime ...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum este
Pro patria mori
Note: The translation of the latin "Dulce
et Decorum Est" is
"Sweet and fitting it is." The translation of "Pro
patria mori" is
"To die for one's country."
By: Wilfred Owen.
(c) 1917.
~~~***~~~
Freedom Is Not Free
Why do we call it
freedom
When freedom is not free.
The cost was blood and sweat
And tears that bought our liberty.
Look beyond our nation's banner
Waving proudly in the breeze
Across the plains and mountains
Thru the valleys, o'er the seas.
And see a people of variety
Living side by side
In God we trust, our motto
Just laws our leaders' guide.
Yet some still take for granted
They neglect to understand
How great a sacrifice was made
To dwell in this free land.
For many left their loved ones
Their friends, their families
Standing true to oaths once taken
To defend our liberties.
Holding fast they fought for freedom
Both at home and then abroad
Spilling blood upon the waters
O'er the ground on which they trod.
Wounded from the many battles
In mire and blood their bodies lay
The dead with mouths wide open
Forming words they'd never say.
Seeing eyes no longer seeing
Gearing ears no longer hear
Hearts once beating stilled and quiet
Loved ones close no longer near.
And though their hopes and dreams were shattered
Let their deaths not be in vain
We must keep forever burning
Freedom's torch, the victor's flame.
For they died for you, America
Your freedom was not free
For t'was their blood and sweat and tears
That bought your liberty.
So when you speak again of freedom
May your hearts be filled with pride
And your gratitude for those
Who for your freedom fought and died.
By Cheryl Berger.
~~~***~~~
Our Hearts Must Change
Do you see the contradiction
in this common phrase,
“We must fight for peace.”
Our planet has had wars raging
for thousands of years -
sweet babes have become soldiers.
They died at home, they died abroad,
they died for their cause
world-wide fighting yet prevails.
And war goes on.
Children cry.
Mothers and Fathers die.
If insanity is repeating the same acts
expecting a different outcome
then clearly, we’re crazy.
We’ve learned nothing from history.
We are no wiser now than
when gladiators clashed swords.
Our mighty bombs can now wipe
out all of civilization; wipe out life
entirely.
Clever aren’t we?
We pray for world peace
but refuse to change ourselves,
abhorring combat yet supporting it.
Each time we turn the channel
to hear how many were killed today,
we contribute to the war machine.
And war goes on.
Children cry.
Mothers and Fathers die.
Each time we decline compassion,
refuse to forgive - accept prejudice,
we are a tiny spark that fuels hatred.
We each have the power and the capacity
to change our course; to take
responsibility
for the part we play in allowing greed to
rule.
Peace must begin with me,
Peace must include you.
Our hearts must change.
We are the hope, the possibility
War can end.
Children can laugh
as Mothers and Fathers thrive.
By Tomi Fratto © Used with permission
Note From The Author:
You may
e-mail me with
any comments about my poetry.
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