To Poe,
A dear friend took me on a walk one day
he told me about The City in the Sea
he spoke of a beautiful girl he once loved
A Valentine from his past Ms. Annabel Lee Continue reading “Ode to Poe”
Words are the chosen tools of Mankind.
To Poe,
A dear friend took me on a walk one day
he told me about The City in the Sea
he spoke of a beautiful girl he once loved
A Valentine from his past Ms. Annabel Lee Continue reading “Ode to Poe”
Martin Luther King of Men
by Hugh A Tague
Changing our world and all who live there
marching against ignorance and hate
his only weapons were peace and prayer
that was what made this King great.
Equality for everyone was his only plan
a kind soul who dared to dream for us all
given by God, taken away by man
on that dark April day when we saw him fall.
Every human need embrace his just plight
the lessons he taught, we must forever sing
men, women and children, black or white
a nation and the world mourn the brave King
Our father of hope, with the angels he flies.
Now it’s up to us to keep his dream alive.
© Hugh A Tague
original 1-6-13 edited 1-17-16
Carried on the wings of my Thunderchief
High above the Earth’s surface
Below my feet a land divided
On the Asian Island chain
Communism creeps
The bombs on my belly
Loaded with freedom from afar
Fire of oppression finds me
Returned to the Earth alive
Received into the hands of the Devil
This poem was inspired by
(Robert Frost’s “A Soldier”)
Way Of The Warrior
By Hugh Tague
The warrior’s body thrown to the ground
his soul released from its earthly bounds.
Freed to a place not known by men
Humanity struggles to understand.
The effect of his actions on the planet
taunt the universe we take for granted.
The weapons used to fall the man
rip, tear and destroy the land.
Sight set on victory at any cost
the warrior once stood tall, now is lost.
http://trrpoetry.blogspot.com/2013/05/poem-way-of-warrior_26.html
By Hugh A Tague
Stones of white sprawl as far as eyes can see
fields of green survivors’ tears now nourish
the sun shone upon the flowers of May
decorating the hallowed place they lay.
The cold days of winter now left behind
spring ends so that summer may come to be
born through the compassion in Shiloh town
widows gray, for the blue laid flowers down.
Canon balls, bullets and bones of the dead
long buried beneath a blanket of earth
beckoning to a time brothers stood brave
some decked in blue yet their kin stood in gray.
From the ashes of conflict felt within
consecrated through the fire of war
a nation of people once divided
proudly under one flag stand united.
Stones of white sprawl as far as eyes can see
spring ends so that summer may come to be
the sun shone upon the flowers of May
decorating the hallowed place they lay
What Memorial Day Means To Me
To some it’s just an extra long weekend
for others it starts the summer season.
I know what the holiday means to me
honoring those that died, so I may be free.
Some will take advantage of a great sale
others may just wonder why there’s no mail.
I see fields of white markers all in a row
as Arlington’s numbers continue to grow.
Many people will barbeque all day
spending time with family down by the lake.
most of us will honor those that fell
a twenty one gun salute says farewell.
What Memorial day means to me
remembering those already set free.
Father Mandela
by Hugh A Tague
Shackled and lead to a cell,
freedom revoked by hatred
and fear.
Nearly three decades of complete darkness,
then into the peoples light
he appeared.
His dream of equality unchanged,
freedom’s resolve
unbroken.
Retribution for sins against him
were forever
unspoken.
Confessor of the dark and the light,
our voice of freedom,
endowing our country with sight.
He no longer walks by our side.
Never shall we forget
this man’s stride.
Father to his countryman,
teaching his children
patience and peace.
His wisdom and sacrifice
forever lives in the hearts
of all who are free.