Battle Flag
The battle flag snapped and swung up to fly in the wind
Above the post on the hill that even God had forgotten about back then
Rifles swung up and pointed out and down across the clearing
Searing rounds were sent out for the human shearing
A burst returned ripped holes in the flag that flew in the wind
Blood and mud spattered, its fabric so worn and so thin
That flew above boys that day sudden turned into men
It snapped and swung up to fly in the wind
Above the post on the hill that no one, not even God knew about back then. 6/10/13
***The above poem can be found in the book: Rabbit in a Box.
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I would hope that anyone who reads my poetry understands that I write what comes to my mind and it doesn't mean I'm the reality of the words. I mean that just because I write about alcoholism does not mean I am the character in the poems. I write about those I've known and those I know and a very wide grouping that is of sinners and saints, those who know who and where they are going and those who are completely lost. I am empathic. I write in the first person because I feel the reality of what I am writing about. Like Dean Martin pretending to be drunk while performing I am not what it may seem. Just a thought as I know some out there who read what I write see the words and not the art or the understanding of the problem I am commenting on, nor do they understand that the comment is for the purpose of illustration and not my own personal reality.
Married to a wonderful woman who is my best friend. Ronald Reagan Conservative Republican. Masters of Accounting-Taxation, United States Marine, taught for 10 years at the University of South Florida, held the following professional certifications: CPA, CVA, CFA. Published author, currently writing three novels and a ton of poems.
