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The Path We Choose

A Soldier's Integrity

What is that Sound?

Back in the 50's Tonight!

A Red Rose



Golden as Gold can Be!

Robin Fly Away

You See!

The Demise of the Old Cowboy

What Will I Miss?

Ode to Christian "Kiki" Fenot

Bobby and Me

The Highwayman

*Let My Spirit Soar*

C'est La Vie

Les feuilles mortes

Before Destiny takes me!

The Hanging Tree

Lost in Time

The Golden Years?

Beyond The Shadows

A Soilder

Ode to an Old Cowboy Poet named....Jack

Our Flag!

Come on Down!

For The Principles of the Red White and Blue

When it's All Been Said and Done

Lost Souls of Yesteryear

On theDark side of the Moon!

Cactus Jack and the Deveil's Gold

The Wind Blew

Where were you@?

More Poetry >>

The Forgotten Warrior

A narrative poem

It's the dead of night, he can
hear that lonely whistle echoing
from that distant freight train blowing.

A white cloak is shuttled in by the
icy northern winds, and covering
everything but humanities sins.

Shivering, teeth chattering as he tries
unsuccessfully to close the flapping,
wet cardboard box lid.
His makeshift home under this
old wooden trestle bridge,
trying to stay warm and hidden.

He pulls the tattered, hole infested, olive drab
blanket up around him and painfully groans,
but to no avail. The chill is in his bones.

In the pocket of that old fatigue jacket rest the medal
now tarnished, scared and forgotten by all, but once
upon a time...
Oh! How it did shine.

He takes one last sip from that bottle of
grape delight. While his thoughts drift back
to the good times when his life was young
and brigh.

To the love of his new born child and the
warmth of his young wife. Those were the days
before he returned from the jungle fight of his life.

Death, destruction, fear, anger and life long despair.
A war in which nothing that he would ever experience
could compare and the ghosts of his past haunt his
every waking moment, it's more than anyone should
have to bear.  

Hours have passed, the temperature has quickly
dropped below zero, and the white ghost of winter
has in-tombed this fall hero.

His pitiful shivering has slowly stopped, the pain
and suffering fades away as he releases his grip on
the bottle of courage and slowly falls into…
eternal sleep.
Now... thirty five years later, this worrior's
ghostly despair...
never again will he have to bear.

 Jackie R. Kays
 Copyright…2004







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The Forgotten Warrior

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