Gloria's Poems
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A Different Christmas Poem
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our
U.S & Canadian service men and women for our being able to celebrate these
festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people
stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.
Never Alone
She sits alone, staring at the blank walls
Inside for someone to listen her heart calls.
Back down memory lane she's gone
In her mind, past memories play on.
Revisiting her past, she's taken to days of long ago
Things that she never wanted anyone to know.
For the path she once traveled was very dark
That part of her life became a dangerous part on which to embark.
As she looks back, she sees the wreckage of her life's chaos
Stolen innocence was her greatest loss.
All these years the haunting memories she's tried to suppress
Because she feared that of her people would think less.
Nothing happened were the words she learned to recite
Yet everyday home turned into a battlefield where she had to fight.
Often she found herself trapped on the warpath
Feeling the pain left from the aftermath.
With no one there to protect her, herself she had to defend
Threatened into silence, that everything was fine she was forced to pretend.
This little girl grew up faster then one could imagine
But with her remained the scars of sin.
A dark period of her life she entered
To some of the toughest times she encountered to them she referred.
She found herself dangerously close to defeat
Into depression and self infliction she did retreat.
Brainwashing was her abusers' weapon of choice
For they did not want her to use her voice.
Her self esteem became greatly marred
Looking at her reflection, she saw an image emotionally scarred.
Love in her life was non existent
The girl nobody wanted, away she got sent.
She watched her life spiral out of control
As the effects of the damage done took its toll.
All alone many tears she cried
But those tears from everyone else she learned to hide.
The burden of shame and guilt that was not hers she bore
As into a million pieces her heart tore.
Her heart bleeds as she recalls the hate and violence
Just thinking about it makes her grow tense.
Exactly how she survived it she couldn't say how
Yet the pain from the past lingers on even now.
Much of her life she felt very isolated
Being a trapped victim she hated.
She was viewed as different because of her history
Beyond her past people chose not to see.
All of this she thinks about as she sits alone tonight
The miracle is that she lived because she decided to fight.
Yes, she could have quit and thrown her life away
Strong willed and stubborn, she chose in life to stay.
It took time for her to learn to love herself
Especially when for years her heart was on a shelf.
What she was made of she found
Discovering the strength within, she stood her ground.
What keeps her going is knowing her life holds so much more
Everyday as she pieces her heart together, hope and faith she's able to restore.
With the world her story she shares
Letting others out there know there's someone who cares.
So tonight, she walks out of that empty room, leaving her past behind
That she's not going to give up she made up her mind.
Like a phoenix, she rises above the ashes of her past
For she plans on rebuilding a life foundation that will last.
Even though she's been through a lot, she knows she's where she's suppose to be
Of her survival, her scars are her testimony.
Because of her experiences into a stronger woman she's grown
Now where ever she goes, she brings the message that no one is ever alone.
Published in Collected Whispers Published in The Best Poems and Poets of 2005Untitled for now
I always write my boyfriend small poems and hide them in unexpected places like his cellphone battery compartment or in the toothbrush holder.
here's the one i wrote him today:
Just like the moon reflects the sun
You and I reflect each one
There are forces we cannot see
Deep inside us they remind us to be free
Days Pass
Into the dark space in my mind
Goes that which I don't want to see or hear or feel
For if I do I might find me
In a fetal heap upon the floor
Wallowing in pain and tears of guilt or loss
Days pass to weeks to months to years
A functional person is what you see
You know not what my smile belies
I don't remember Christmas that year
I don't want to.
© 1999 SC SYLVESTER
Hold ON
BY:awesomeannie
I'm hanging off a cliff,
barely holding on.
As I'm hanging there
I wonder when help will come.
I hear a voice in my head say,
"Just hold on."
After awhile I start to wonder,
maybe help will never come.
I've been here so long,
barely holding on.
While barely holding on,
I shout, "Over here."
A minute longer
and I would be gone.
Where would I be,
up or down,
if I hadn't held on?
I now realize,
how wrong I was
about God,
until that moment
I was barely holding on.
I
Hmmm......being in a position to see that which is and isn't,no talent 'cept this hand in words. One can understand I am I....he whose brush is pen enlightens the hearts of men,painting upon the mind fantasy in a void of time. Informing those gone unaware that golden chance to care...in the many mysteries of the world where drama life is free,and I...being in a position to see this talent given to me,am blessed from beyond...for words shall live,when I am gone......... http://www.freewebs.com/
"WALK WITHIN"...
You..who have taken the time to learn to walk most even,sure and soundly than I...be patient,wait with my fumbling..then knowing that only I do my best and try. Might I meet and conquer my goal for which we all are working for, if though knowledge and exsperience....the soul has achieved loftiness which I as yet in soft-lit sight see. Stretch outward hand and show the way,so from it's straight forwardness I may stray....thus walk these endless miles along with me
"IMAGES"....As he uttered with a tone of finality the end is here,there was no fear in this figure standing before me...weakness...there was none as far as I could see. Bitterness has been there and gone sometime ago,all I could see was that he stood alone staring at me...with glazed eyes. I searched my mind tring to understand what could have happened to change this man,so I stretched out my hand as a friendly gesture. I felt I knew this figure standing there staring at me,yet he was only a wounded stranger nothing more to me. As I look to that reflection on the mirror to the saddness,the tears,even the finality of his words. I can see why there is no weakness or fear to be found,why bitterness had vanished...only the scar remained...why he stood alone with pride,not shame. The sadness was the thoughts of his past I saw that day,the tears were the joy of victory...his words however final...the peace he gained. YOU KNOW...I wonder who he was,that figure in the mirror....staring back at me?
The Fishing Poem
BY: the custodian Bill Sawyers.
Fishing in the moonlight or fishing in the sun;
Fishing for the big ones is fun, fun, fun.
Catching the small ones or none at all,
It’s a great sport to get on the ball.
Good luck on your next trip,
And let’s hope you don’t get sick.
The Rocket
Sitting on the launch pad lay a beautiful, but impressive rocket;
As the ignition cord gets plugged into the socket,
The excitement is extreme; 5-4-3-2-1—Lift Off!
Listen to the engine scream!
See the blazing flames and endless smoke roar into the endless sky,
The massive bird soars dramatically through the clouds
Towards the peaceful heavens above
To explore sensational moods from our eyes.
Then, all at once, the ejection deployment of the chute “pops” the rocket aloft,
Comes floating down gracefully, unlike a rock – what a thrill!
The Dream
I was born to dream and have them come true,
As they appear right out of the blue.
I wished for a car and then a house
And that is what I got.
Then I dreamed of getting a wife,
Then some kids and to become rich.
I got my wife, then the kids;
I have yet to become rich,
But I’m not stuck in an old ditch.
Next I dreamed of being an inventor-
What a wish as I’m getting bigger.
This dream has come true and I’m getting bolder.
Anyone can do it.
Give it a thought and some time,
Let it ferment like a good wine.
At first it will smolder and then you’ll make it.
So start off small, then go as big as you want!!!
Don’t feel blue,
It’s all up to you.
Good luck. The Dreamer.
The End of School
The end of school is almost near,
But don’t you fear,
Summer is near.
It’s time to play and be on your way;
The school year has been fun,
And it’s time to relax under the sun.
The months June, July, and August are long,
And most of the staff will be gone.
Summer school is on its way,
And the days will get longer for some.
So pull out the tents, cots, and the barbeques;
Every person goes by a different tune.
So when you come back to school,
Your classes will look like new.
Through The Night
By: Culturevital
I fell asleep late last night,
and I woke to see the brand new dawn.
Everything feels so right.
There's nothing wrong.
The birds are singing sweetly.
The sunrise is so bright.
And I thank You, Lord,
for seeing me through the night.
Never Alone
By: Jenna Kandyce Linch
She sits alone, staring at the blank walls
Inside for someone to listen her heart calls.
Back down memory lane she's gone
In her mind, past memories play on.
Revisiting her past, she's taken to days of long ago
Things that she never wanted anyone to know.
For the path she once traveled was very dark
That part of her life became a dangerous part on which to embark.
As she looks back, she sees the wreckage of her life's chaos
Stolen innocence was her greatest loss.
All these years the haunting memories she's tried to suppress
Because she feared that of her people would think less.
Nothing happened were the words she learned to recite
Yet everyday home turned into a battlefield where she had to fight.
Often she found herself trapped on the warpath
Feeling the pain left from the aftermath.
With no one there to protect her, herself she had to defend
Threatened into silence, that everything was fine she was forced to pretend.
This little girl grew up faster then one could imagine
But with her remained the scars of sin.
A dark period of her life she entered
To some of the toughest times she encountered to them she referred.
She found herself dangerously close to defeat
Into depression and self infliction she did retreat.
Brainwashing was her abusers' weapon of choice
For they did not want her to use her voice.
Her self esteem became greatly marred
Looking at her reflection, she saw an image emotionally scarred.
Love in her life was non existent
The girl nobody wanted, away she got sent.
She watched her life spiral out of control
As the effects of the damage done took its toll.
All alone many tears she cried
But those tears from everyone else she learned to hide.
The burden of shame and guilt that was not hers she bore
As into a million pieces her heart tore.
Her heart bleeds as she recalls the hate and violence
Just thinking about it makes her grow tense.
Exactly how she survived it she couldn't say how
Yet the pain from the past lingers on even now.
Much of her life she felt very isolated
Being a trapped victim she hated.
She was viewed as different because of her history
Beyond her past people chose not to see.
All of this she thinks about as she sits alone tonight
The miracle is that she lived because she decided to fight.
Yes, she could have quit and thrown her life away
Strong willed and stubborn, she chose in life to stay.
It took time for her to learn to love herself
Especially when for years her heart was on a shelf.
What she was made of she found
Discovering the strength within, she stood her ground.
What keeps her going is knowing her life holds so much more
Everyday as she pieces her heart together, hope and faith she's able to restore.
With the world her story she shares
Letting others out there know there's someone who cares.
So tonight, she walks out of that empty room, leaving her past behind
That she's not going to give up she made up her mind.
Like a phoenix, she rises above the ashes of her past
For she plans on rebuilding a life foundation that will last.
Even though she's been through a lot, she knows she's where she's suppose to be
Of her survival, her scars are her testimony.
Because of her experiences into a stronger woman she's grown
Now where ever she goes, she brings the message that no one is ever alone.
'Never Alone' Copyright © Jenna Kandyce Linch
~DEATH~
BY: an unknown Poet
WHAT A WONDERFUL WAY TO EXPLAIN IT ..
A sick man turned to his doctor as he was preparing to
Leave the examination room and said,
'Doctor, I am afraid to die.
Tell me what lies on the other side.'
Very quietly, the doctor said, 'I don't know.'
'You don't know? You, a Christian man,
Do not know what is on the other side?'
The doctor was holding the handle of the door;
On the other side came a sound of scratching and whining,
And as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room
And leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.
Turning to the patient, the doctor said,
'Did you notice my dog?
He's never been in this room before.
He didn't know what was inside.
He knew nothing except that his master was here,
And when the door opened, he sprang in without fear.
I know little of what is on the other side of death,
But I do know one thing...
I know my Master is there and that is enough.'
Crabby Old Man
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in
North Platte , Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of
any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager
possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the
staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the
hospital .
One nurse took her copy to Missouri . The old man's sole bequest
to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the
News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health.
A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple,
but eloquent, poem.
And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world,
is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food . . . . . . and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . . . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am, . . . . . . . . as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . .. . . . . . . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty. . . . . .My heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . . . With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, . Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . . My loved one and me .
Dark days are upon me . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . . . . ... . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel..
Tis jest to make old age. . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . . . . . . grace and vigor,
depart. There is now a stone . . . . . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . . A young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . . . . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years . all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . . open and see..
Not a crabby old man . Look closer . . . see . . . . . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person
who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul
within . . . .
We will all, one day, be there, too!