An Epitaph!
An Epitaph!
Brother Soldier!
Please convert your heavy machine gun
Into a soft guitar!
Let it be Maple, Red Oak,
Mahogany or Brazilian Rosewood
Anyway that rhythm should
Touch my wounded heart!
*for Paddy Martin in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A parcel from Overseas beyond the Great Barrier Reef!
As a habbit, firstly
I check the sender's name & address
Oh! It's from New South Wales
Australia, My dreamy burial grounds
To rest in peace with Aborigines!
Guess who sent the precious gift?
Brother Poet & Humanitarian
Paddy the Martin!
Two pocket size books
His poetry Anthologies.
'Poems that bloom in my garden
And The ancient Poet.'
I have not started yet the reading
But that smells a rare fragrance of a flower
In the garden of Eden!
Where the Humanity began!
Thank you is not enough
For the soft soul's honest smile
And I add this; 'Let us be friends
And smile together until we reach
The Horizon, Zenith or Infinity
Whatever it is promise to shake hand warmly!
* Humbly to my friend Paddy Martin in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Rhythm Machine
I'm a rhythm machine; you know what I mean,
I'm a rhythm machine; you know what I mean
I got time, running through my
head in bed,
Instead of sleep, how it looks instead,
I'm a rhythm machine; you know what I mean,
I'm a music man; I play the blues whenever I can,
I'm a music man; I play the blues whenever I can,
I get a flat backbeat, instead of food when I eat,
The ticking of a clock gets me out of my seat
I'm a music man; I play the blues whenever I can.
I'm her cross cut saw before I
was four
Smoked-staked lightning had me crawling across the floor
The beach ball didn't get me but that son-in-law did
I'm been keeping time ever since I was a kid
I'm a music machine, don't you know what I mean,
I'm rhythm machine; he knows what I mean, oh.
Yeah, yeah.
I'm a rhythm machine; I'm a rhythm machine,
I'm a rhythm machine, don't you know what I mean
I'm a music man, yeah,
I'm gonna play the blues whenever I can,
Hey, play the blues then,
Oh, yeah, yeah, play it for Kings and Queens,
Yeah, yeah, I'm a music man,
I'm a rhythm machine......
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is this the dark side of the story?
A wounded soldier walks with his gun towards the enemy area.
And he found an enemy wounded soldier with his gun
But no ammunition.
He cried in difficulty; 'Please do not shoot me adjutant as I am helpless.'
Then the other soldier said; 'We are friends now and no doubt about that
But tell me Sergeant where do we go without any hindrance? '
* Really there are no enemies among human beings, all are brother & sister soldiers against the cold war of life.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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When Your Smouldering Round Bullet Pierce My Fragile Heart?
My tall brother soldier!
If your rusty gun is a guitar
Then people won't die in vain
and they listen to your
melodious voice!
But your rough fingers
The Warlords,
they trained you purposely
for the trigger
and not for strings?
My little brother soldier!
When your smouldering round bullet
pierce my fragile heart
Do you hear that
painful dying song of your father's voice?
to the Irish poet William Butler Yeats!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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For me Brazilian music is the perfect mix of melody and rhythm. It just bubbles rhythmically. If I had to pick just one music style to play if would be Brazilian.
quote by Herbie Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The dream of gifts!
She hugged me wholeheartedly
And gave me a bottle of Multi-Vitamins!
I kissed on her forehead and offered a second-hand book
From a junk shop.
'Kama Sutra! '
*For my shadowy friend Paddy Martin!
Here few Oxygen to you and I want to see your resurrection soon.
[ Go there, watch the Sun set over the land
You and I loved so intensely.
Taste the scent of Eucalypt
Carried on the evening breeze.]
'My Eternal Valentine'-Paddy Martin
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents had he - they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with tearful eye;
It's only a soldier's grave - pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high; -
Only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh; -
Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet, we should mark it - the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by S.A. Jones
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Guitar In A Stand
My guitar sits in a stand
rosewood neck
and maple bridge
chrome pegs
and stainless steel frets
six steel & brass strings
silent now
and no songs
for my fingers she longs
without regrets
upon her strings
a part of my heart
but she gives feelings in me wings
But there she sits silently
just an inanimate thing
that comes to life somehow
when I feel alone
and overfilled with the sadness
that life seems to bring
she makes me somehow
want to play and sing
through tears and everything
and in the end she says it's OK
somehow she understands
and now I look at her there
in her stand
and get up and walk across the room
to hold her in my hand
and play a little Bell Bottm Blues
and Little Wing
she allows this weary heart to sing
as if it meant something
I think when I'm dead and gone
this guitar will carry on
the memory of my feelings
and the memory of my hands
to another player
who has a similar feeling
and who understands
and listens to each note that rings
and makes them think of love and things
Or maybe it will have meaning to someone
or sit in a case or upon a wall
I wonder about it all
but me I hear something
between each note
as I bend the string and listen
a blue note
reminds me of you
and how your smokey eyes appear to glisten
and of your soft kind way
and from far away
my heart hesitates
and skips a beat
and dreams
and listens
and makes it's way to you
© James T. Adair
poem by James T. Adair
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents he had--they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with a tearful eye:
It's only a soldier's grave--pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high;--
Only a soldier's grave--pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh;--
Yet,'tis only a soldier's grave:--pass by.
Yet, should we mark it--the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by Sidney Alroy Jonas
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Killing Machine
Killing machine,
They make you mean,
They make you strong and angry.
Killing machine,
They make you fight,
For valour and for glory.
Killing machine,
They send you to war,
Leaving your wife and family.
Killing machine,
You are but a man,
Trained and in the Army.
Soldier man,
Your not a machine,
But the keeper of my freedom.
Freedom Soldier,
I pray for you,
God keep you safe from harm.
poem by Claire Abbott
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My Brother In Law The Soldier
my brother in law the soldier.
he was so young when he went to war..
he has turned it to a brave soldier and
and im verry proud of him
my brother in law the soldier
he is riskin his life
for our freedom..
my brother in law the soldier
deangelo hunter..
ily thanks for all your doing
we dont take enough time to
tell our soldiers overseas
how proud and thankful
we are for what they do..
poem by Dawn Hunter
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He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy he's my brother
He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slave To The Rhythm
Work all day, as men who know,
Wheels must turn to keep, to keep the flow,
Build on up, dont break the chain,
Sparks will fly, when the whistle blows,
Never stop the action,
Keep it up, keep it up,
Work to the rhythm,
Live to the rhythm,
Love to the rhythm,
Slave to the rhythm,
Axe to wood, in ancient time,
Man machine, power line,
Fires burn, heart beats strong,
Sing out loud, the chain gang song,
Never stop the action,
Keep it up, keep it up,
Breath to the rhythm,
Dance to the rhythm,
Work to the rhythm,
Live to the rhythm,
Love to the rhythm,
Slave to the rhythm.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Is In Heaven
Brother Martin was assassinated at a very young age.
Intelligent and determined; he was a wise sage.
I am convinced that he is definitely the only man
In Heaven.
Bro. Martin fought for everybody’s civil rights, regardless of race,
Color, gender, origin, etcetera, etcetera. He is in a better place
Right now, I feel that he is the only man
In Heaven.
Brother Martin was a very dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ,
Who did not fight back, but he was stronger than ice;
He was a peaceful warrior. I know that he is the only man
In Heaven.
There is a lot that one can say and write about this legend.
He had many dreams and great visions, He knew how to blend
Fiction and reality. He was a man of ideas and actions.
Brother Martin is in Heaven working on different transactions.
I want to thank him and his associates for their sacrifices.
Brother Martin is still alive. His dreams are alive under the auspices
Of God’s blessings to fight racism, unfairness and all sorts of inequalities.
Brother Martin is not dead. We shall overcome despite our inabilities.
Jesus died for our sins, but Brother Martin died for things
That benefit all humanities. Let the angels sing, let freedom ring
In every corner of the earth. I am overjoyed to say that Brother Martin
Is in Heaven.
poem by Hebert Logerie (15 January 2012)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Aint Heavy... Hes My Brother
(bob russell/bobby scott)
The road is long with many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where, who knows when
But Im strong--strong enough to carry him
He aint heavy, hes my brother
So on we go--his welfare is my concern
No burden is he to bear--well get there
For I know he would not encumber me
He aint heavy, hes my brother
If Im laden at all--Im laden with sadness
That everyones heart isnt filled with the gladness of love for one another
Its a long, long road from which there is no return
While were on our way to there
Why not share?
And the load--it doesnt weigh me down at all
He aint heavy, hes my brother
He aint heavy, hes my brother
He aint heavy. hes my brother
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unseen Companions of the journey!
Hi everyone
I received this from Fay Slimm today concerning the death of our good friend Mary Martin. Please do go to the site and light a candle for dear Chrissy.
Thank you,
Patrick
I was shocked!
Mary Martin, your sad demise!
O it's really unbearable?
Paddy sent me two books before he leaves
And then you sent me his two photographs
Before you leave, how do I get things of Paddy now?
I realized life's a journey and not a race!
Tomorrow I am passing the 60th mile post
On my way to your new domicile!
We're in one family of this ridiculous segregated World!
May you rest in peace beside my friend Paddy and your best friend too,
Along this unending journey!
* I asked my beloved to light an additional candle tomorrow on my sad birthday cake and that's for you Mary!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Soldier's Ghost
I bled for you - would you for me?
I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'
I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?
My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!
I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?
Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier soldier war
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Mother’s Cry of Late
Where for art thou, soldier?
Out East? West? –
And when? –
What part your rabid history?
And why? –
What wrought your destiny? –
For whom
You’d wreak your enmity –
I crave your fate to pen!
What comprehension of the
Order? –
‘Listen up! you men!
Raze to ground the taken land!
See they die and e’er you’ll stand, for
Death is but a grain of sand –
The mighty triumph, medal grand!
Now go you well!
Amen! ’
What sight upon the bloody lie
Of war? – your doubtful fate.
‘Where for art thou, soldier? ’ –
Your mother’s cry of late.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier soldier
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Paddy Magee
What are you doing now, Paddy Magee?
Grafting, or spelling now, Paddy Magee?
Breaking, or branding?
Or overlanding,
Out on the sand ridges, Paddy Magee?
Is your mouth parched, from an all-night spree?
Taking a pick-me-up, Paddy Magee?
Cocktail - or simple soda and b.? -
Which is the 'antidote,' Paddy Magee?
Still 'shook' on some beautiful, blushing she?
Girl in the Bogan side, Paddy Magee?
A hack providing
For moonlight riding,
Side-saddle foolery, Paddy Magee?
Up on the station - or in the town -
Or on the Warrego, droving down,
Whatever you're doing - wherever you be!
'There's lashin's o' luck to ye!' Paddy Magee!
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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