Greetings All:
Although I have a couple of posts in the hopper (the draft folder I am learning is becoming like the junk drawer in the kitchen, things get put in it here that I just know I will want to use again but am not sure when.) In any event, I do have a couple of things lined up and will get them out sooner or later.
I hope summer is treating you well and it is (finally) starting to dry out in Iowa. Summer officially starts in about a week yet we saw the first fire fly (lightning bug) a couple of nights back, so as far as I am concerned, summer is here.
On a more serious note, today is both Flag Day and the birthday of the U.S. Army. As I mentioned on my Facebook wall, the Army is an institution that I do love. And yet, like anything that matters, it is complex, complicated. It is not a person. However, it is made up of people, run by people, admired by some people (many people) and cursed by others (perhaps more than I want to admit). In any event, those are comments for another day. For now, here is a poem I wrote. I fully recognize that I am, at best, a bar stool poet. to that end, here's some amateur poetry about that organization who is 238 today. Enjoy.
An Army Born
A musket cracks on an April morn;
A ball of lead marks a revolution born;
England awakes with a jolt;
The colonists are in revolt.
King George smirks at the sight;
Drunk in confidence of his might;
His Redcoats will put this rabble down;
And bend their knees to his crown.
Yet something changed on this day;
A new force of freedom joined the fray;
A united force, thirteen became one;
Now the fight was truly begun.
With Washington riding ahead;
His Soldiers followed, willingly led;
June 14th our
Army was born;
An oath to freedom all were sworn.
The early days were full of strife;
Retreat was often played by drum and fife;
Victory was hard to find;
Yet our Army continued the grind.
Through the cold, through the grief;
Our Army fought on in certain belief;
That they could fight and they could win;
Much to “his Majesty’s” chagrin.
Then at Yorktown, everything changed;
Washington’s plan was all arranged;
The British were trapped against the sea;
With the French Navy’s help, we claimed victory.
From that time until now;
The Army has kept its solemn vow;
To defend our nation night or day;
Always ready for the call into harm’s way.
Our Army is our nation’s strength
It keeps tyranny at arm’s length;
Along with others who serve;
Our way of live is preserved.
So cut the cake and sing the song;
Knowing that your
Army goes rolling along!
This poem is dedicated to Sergeant Walter B. Holcomb, U.S.
Army, Pacific Theater, World War II.
Be well my friends.
Jeno
