Angel Of The Battlefield

"Angel of the Battlefield"

Clarrissa Harlow Barton.

Do you know this name?

She was a Christmas gift from God

to ease man's suffering and pain.

Born in Massachusetts
in 1821,
she was just 17
when she began to educate the young.
She opened a free school
in New Jersey, where
instead of leaving her in charge,
they put a man in there.
So she got herself a job
with the U.S. government,
working in the office
of copyrights and patents.
"Angel of the Battlefield"
is what they called her, when
she nursed wounded soldiers
in the civil war, and then
searched for their missing
when the war was through.
Then she marched for suffrage
to give women their equal due.
But ole Clara got sick
somewhere along the way,
so her doctor told her to take a break,
"take a holiday."
But even when in Europe,
she found someone in need, yeah,
and learned of the red cross,
as outlined by Geneva.
Twelve countries signed that treaty,
but not Uncle Sam,
till Clara got involved
and drew up a new plan,
from just helping in war zones
to any catastrophe.
So the next time the news
shows disaster on tv,
and you see the red cross there,
you'll know it was done
by a woman whose place
was supposed to be in the home.
Yes, she was a powerhouse,
and just one final note:
she died eight years before
women had the right to vote.


 

D.C. Rats

D.C. Rats

I hear them talking politics

at the coffee house down the street.

Not too far away

from where the homeless sleep.

 

It's useless to listen in

as they chat on their phones,

about important issues.

Some will hinder.  Some give hope.

 

You never know if what you hear

will be their final vote,

as they stand among their allies

with favors to be owed.

 

The streets are paved with B.S.

Even politics has a pope.

Homeless veterans go hungry,

their nights grow long and cold.

 

Though Washington winds are rough,

I wasn't really thrown,

till I saw that even the rats have

political agendas of their own.

 

 



Faith Forward

Faith Forward

i was stuck

tween here and there

in the shadows of my mind

with the skeletons I bare

the wicked aim to destroy

what God has built

pretending to be pious

they hide their guilt

in the minds of the helpless

who cannot sleep through these dreams

of long ago

filled with demons

they face alone

 

in the distance

i see

the little girl

i used to be

her eyes of blue behold

and evil world

where lies unfold

her temple defiled by those unkind

they are dark of heart

and vain of mind

 

my memory there

is etched in stone
flowers grow
which have already grown
birds fly
where they've already flown
and the dead live lives
that have already come and gone
the thief lives there
my soul he'll steal
and tie my tongue
to keep his secret sealed
and in his house
are all my fears
upon each wall
written in tears is yesterday's sorrows

but in this sad, sad place
i dare not stay long
hell for those who linger on
but in the Lord, i will be strong
wearing His armor
i'll walk along the straight and narrow
and in the epistle
written by Paul
are the sensible words
i like to recall
"go back, nay
to what is gone
but reach for what is yet to come"
the fruit of the spirit is "joy"
not pain
though the demons of the past shall rise again
the living God will forever reign
the gift of grace for all His children
and God shall avenge the child
and the mother of harlots
in purple and scarlet
will taste defeat

out of the mouths of babes
will come perfect praise
and they shall cry no more
safe shall I be as each memory unfurls
for stronger is He who is in me
than is he who is in the world

 

 



Homeless Not Hopeless

Homeless not Hopeless

You can see that I am homeless.

Sometimes you look my way.

Sometimes I am voided

like a dog who has gone astray.

 

My coat is my pillow.

My blanket is a tarp.

All I have going for me

is my literary art.

 

When my pen moves

across a naked page,

it causes you to notice

on any given day.

 

As love can move mountains,

words can touch a heart,

even one as cold as ice.

It's the glory of the art.

 

As you read my messages,

then you will know,

that no matter what you've lost in life,

you are never really alone.



September Mourn

September Mourn

I remember where I was

when it all went down.

A small twin engine,

is what the said.

Oh, how they were wrong.

I was so paralyzed

as I watched on my tv.

Over a thousand

tortured,

crying souls.

There was nothing I could do!

And what can I say

to ease the pain

of the loved ones left behind?

I can only offer them my hope,

which I planted in my pain,

nurtured by the light of freedom,

watered by the tears that I have cried.