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| SEA SERVICE POETRY | ||
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| Aboard a Vessel
Far Tranquility of waves that dance, horizons peak and fall. Illuminating lights below, as currents flash at night. Above the stars, again to say, sailor rest and dream. Set down your worries, calm be your soul. Your vessel's safe upon the sea. Giant engines hum a song, of power to be released. Shadows eerie from guns at rest, Silenced thunder ready to call. Dolphins do come to play, against the wake that follows. Friends of the seas, bring peaceful thoughts. as nature and man do speak. Teardrop falls, from a seasoned sailor, clutching a photo of a child. So strong the love left at port, So strong the love desired. Closer to heaven, one does not get, as when at sea at night. For there, God's hand embraces man. As those ashore, in peace do rest. A warrior dreams of loves on land. GSMC (SW) Jose G. Acosta USN (Ret) "From Fear to Hope & Back Again" ©2000 Jose G. Acosta |
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| The Price of
Freedom So many shouts against our FLAG, so many screams of hate and rage. As with their freedom they do yell, against the wars of past present days. A flame erupts among the crowd, Red, White and Blue does burn. More shouts by those so naïve, to blind, to young to ever learn. Then in the midst a soldier stands, with medals pale with time and pride. Scars of wars on his face do show, upon a steel chariot he does ride. "Know you not of men that died, of women sent to early graves. As for your freedom they did stand, so many heroes so many braves. Rows of stones with forgotten names, proud soldiers laid to peaceful rest. Did die for that FLAG you so burn, with their life they gave their best." Silence came upon the raging crowd, as this soldier stood in pain, He rendered one more sharp salute, as heaven's angels came. A broken heart stopped that day, too much for one to silently bear. Memories of friends past that fell, so strong the past so still unfair. So if you do not know the price, of freedom you do so use to rave. Look beneath at yonder rows of stone, for that price they Proudly gave. GSMC (SW) Jose G. Acosta USN (Ret) |
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| Veteran’s Pride
Sailed I have many oceans, GSMC (SW) Jose G. Acosta USN (Ret) |
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| A Folded Flag
Thunderous sound of rifles echo, Darkened suits with solemn faces, Across the pond are voices glaring, As one more hero One sharp salute, GSMC (SW) Jose G. Acosta USN (Ret) |
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Unfurled Banner
With shaken hands he unfurled a flag,
Which at time was thirteen fold.
The winter breeze did pick it up,
Once the trembling man released his hold. Onward I walked with brisker pace, As if to outrun the thought. A seasoned father lost a son, To a war in which, I had fought. I turned up the hill past Lincoln's place, A chill felt from a familiar eerie sound. Beyond the trees a soldier stood, "Taps" echoed through such hallowed ground. Then four, five, then ten or more, Unfurled flags in the wind did fly. Was this a holiday I did forget, Then I heard the widows' cry. Frozen still I stood in blank emotion. The color guard with horses came. Once more I thought about that man. I hung my head in shame. What seemed an hour in seconds passed. Fourteen flags draped on coffins carried. Some were men, some were women. Some too young, not even married. Each had taken up the call, While others stayed at home. Each one gave his life on his own accord, This final trip they would not take alone. Further down past Washington's stone, On white steps a mother did kneel. In her hands a new, crisp folded flag, Tears streamed, emotions strong and real. Upon a blanket clean and pressed, Unfurled the banner with a gentle touch. One she was handed moments before, This one that meant so much. "My son", she said in trembling voice, "Gave his life for what he did believe. I honor him upon these steps. This banner, his heart to you I give". "Abandon not what he stood for. In vain do not let him die. Stand strong for him and country too. Take my hand and with me cry". Upon the steps she left the flag, Soaked with her loving tear. Straight I stood, rendered a salute, I wept when she passed near.
Amongst the stones a silence fell.
"Taps" ended to salute a hero's death.
A flag unfurled with a sudden wind.
I felt the wind in Freedom's breath.
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| The Pier The lines are cast i'm on my way to places new and far away. Six months will pass till i return, another sea service ribbon earned. She stands alone on that Norfolk pier and i watch her till we disappear. The tug boats blow and the sea gulls cry its always tough to say goodbye. A navy wife is a special breed she fills so many special needs, like being dad while i'm away she always knows just what to say. And now the pier is far from sight but i know that things will be alright. And soon these months will turn to days, and then i will be home to stay, and spend my years with the ones most dear and forget the sight of that Norfolk pier. DCC (SW) Marc A. Reyes, USN |
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| Andy It is said that he works in mysterious ways, he created the earth and all of its days. But today I wish the power was mine, and I could turn back the hands of time. Because on this day I will lose my brother, he was my friend, and like no other. Why did this happen, who can say, god why did you take him this warm Georgia day? But now years have passed since we laid him to rest and all I can do is remember his best. The sounds of his voice are alive in my head while I'm here on the ship, or lying in bed. Now I wish I had seen him more but we both grew older and took life's tour. He joined the navy and so did I, and so many good times passed us by. We spent our lives apart at sea, and I often wondered if he thought of me. But now years have passed and things have changed, but sometimes the waves will say his name, and my mind drifts back to through all of the years, I remember the laughs and some of the tears, why did it happen who can say why did God take him that warm Georgia day. DCC (SW) Marc A. Reyes, USN ©2000 Marc Reyes |
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| The Voice of the Sea Now, The Voice of the Sea flows clear to me, With a restless peace resounding fast and free, Those billowy depths rolling out with a bubbling groan, Like mirrored glass changed suddenly in tempests flown, Calm, convulsed by breeze, gale, then thrust in storm and time, From icing poles it floods into that settled, heavy torrid clime, Vast, powerful, swirling, dark heaving; boundless, endless, yet sublime, Like the image of eternity, its throne shown through the visible maritime, Since each ocean obeys Him who moves in those fathomless depths unknown, Waves shouting, The Voice of the Sea argues, and then proves One Holy God alone. Ronald L. Dotson email From "To Glorify God in a Ministry of Poetry" ©2002 Ronald L. Dotson |
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| Shore Duty, 1966
Waiting for her on the library Thomas Michael McDade |
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I spent boot camp Thomas Michael McDade |
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| My Sailor
I love "My Sailor" so deeply and true Rhonda Lunsford |
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| They've Done Their Part
From World War Two, to the war in Iraq
And their ranks are seen as few They stand strong and give their all So freedom's light shines through Their jobs don't lead to glory They leave their homes to go to war While their price was paid on land and sea In far off lands they may remain Seabees teach, they build, they fight, UT1 T. D. Fisher USN (RET) |
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When first I saw you long ago, nested snug in Sasebo I stood in awe at what I saw and knew not what to do Was it my youth that I recall, the ship, the crew, the bos'n call, I heard they changed your duty station, sent you to another nation, So clean out the coffee bucket guys, and have a cup of joe, Bob Moran TM2 |
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Given
The battle now is over,
For God, for cause, for country,
There'll be no call to arms,
Six men bear him softly
A folded flag for all to see
Some will say he's crazy
But some are proud and willing
So taps is played and rifles fired,
Ken B. Harper |
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The Red Nomex Aviator On the night before Christmas my ship was at sea, A big flat-top "bird farm" from the land of the free.
Cruising the ocean at "the tip of the spear,"
Flight ops had ended hours ago,
Night crew was doin' their maintenance checks,
The cooks in the galley were fixin' Mid-rats,
CIC called up said something's inbound,
Stand clear of the foul-line, one to recover,
Spotters see only one red blinkin' light,
All eyes are watching but no one believes,
Nine deer and a sleigh, no tail-hook or tires,
A red Nomex flight-suit, of course gloves that match,
Why, it's old Santa Claus wearin' goggles and leather,
Don't stand there gawkin' froze in your tracks,
The bags are all carried to the mail room below,
The cat-crew is wondering now which hold-back pin?
We didn't hear jingling bells from his sleigh,
Off the angle-deck, over wave-caps of white,
We all stood there doubting what we had just seen,
Over the side with all the deer turds,
Tho' that night happened many long years ago,
Bringing to sailors, women and men,
Ken B. Harper |
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Warning Guidon's
Franklin said that "Rattle-Snakes" don’t seek to cause you harm. DON’T TREAD ON ME, it plainly says, for all the world to see, And don’t forget the famous red and white-striped naval jack, These two flags, born long ago, before the fight was won, Courageous, visible symbols of the unanimous Declaration. The United States of America, grew from the colonies. Since Seventeen-hundred Seventy-five, when first these flags unfurled, The "sleeping giant", once again, has risen to fight back. And soldiers on Iraqi sand, or Afghan mountain sides, So hoist up high a "rattle-snake", on freedom’s every breeze, Ken B. Harper |
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A US Navy “Fighter Jock” , he’s bulletproof. Traps on a deck that rolls and rocks, he’s bulletproof. Hit the ‘burners, light up the sky, Flyin’ to live and livin’ to fly, F-18 at + Mach 2, he’s bulletproof.
Airborne Ranger on his left bicep, he’s bulletproof. “Jump wings” there upon his chest, he’s bulletproof. De Oppresso Liber is his tag, “Home sweet home” is at Fort Bragg, A skull and crossed-bones beret flash, he’s bulletproof.
A “Miserable Child” of Uncle Sam, he’s bulletproof. His footprints left on beach-front sand, he’s bulletproof. From Montezuma to Tripoli, The Few and Proud made history, Immortalized by Joe Rosenthal, he’s bulletproof.
Off he goes in yonder blue, he’s bulletproof. He does what Icarus couldn’t do, he’s bulletproof. Fighters and bombers in the sky, A “Jolly Green” is standing by, He “…slips the surly bonds of earth…”, he’s bulletproof.
The SCORPION and all of her hands went down they weren’t bulletproof. 7th Cavalry charged, the Sioux cut ‘em down, they weren’t bulletproof.
On Iwo Jima “Uncommon valor…” was found, For a moment we pause… And then go on, ‘cause we’re bulletproof.
Ken B. Harper |
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Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans, The North, Med and South China Seas. Beneath Polar ice or over the Trench Adventure begins where are these. The United States Navy’s canvas sails Were stowed away long, long ago. No longer dependant on current or wind Now reactors decide where we will go. American oak protecting her crew, Old Ironsides was built to last. Now all-welded steel painted haze-gray On stem, stern, ladder and mast. Bonhomme Richard, Ranger, Constitution, Our first Sloops and Frigate’s-of-war. Monitor, Hunley, Maine, Arizona, Sunk to patrol nevermore. Holystoned decks and tar on the lines Square sails taut in the breeze. Rubberized coatings now help ships to hide On top and down deep in the sea. Roundshot, canister, grape, bar and chain, From 32-pound cast iron guns. Phoenix, Harpoon, Sparrow, Sidewinder, And bombs that are no longer dumb. Broadside exchanges sent cannonballs flyin’ While muskets were fired by Marines. With today’s jets and radar, missiles and subs, The enemy might never be seen. The crow’s nest mounted upon the main mast Was high as a man could go. Now sailors in aircraft launched out of this world On shuttles see earth down below. One nautical mile is equal one knot, How fast a ship travels 6,076 feet. Bowline, half hitch, figure eight, square, Sailor knots not known for speed. Sea legs and bo’sun, Master-At-Arms, Fathom and anchor’s aweigh. Like Davy Jones’ Locker, home port and tattoo, The lingo hangs on still today. From whaleboat to carrier, E-1 to O-10 Sky-high or submerged down below. Defending, assisting, by SEa Air or Land 24 - 7 `round the globe. Ken B. Harper 18 November 2005© Ken B. Harper |
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WHEN PARADISE BURNED With Sunday shipboard church-pennants raised, Padres uttered words of praise, Sailors in their dress whites sang That day in Paradise. Some were tired and sleepin' in, Others recovering from a night of sin, The Opana radar found something and then Paradise turned into Hell. It took a few minutes to just realize, The planes buzzing 'round, like bees in the skies, Bombing Oahu in total surprise Were Japanese born and bred. Torpedo planes were dropping their loads, Aiming for Navy ships, tied up in rows, Gray-painted steel, now shot full of holes Zero Seven Fifty-five was the time. Bombs fell at Wheeler and Hickam Field too, Over Bellows, Kaneohe and Ford Island they flew, Bloody oil in Pearl Harbor hid waters of blue Black smoke boiled into the sky. Zeke's, Val's and Kate's sliced through the air, Red meatballs on canvas were everywhere, The carriers they wanted were not even there Utah rolled over and died. Cassin and Downes were destroyed in dry-dock, Three fish hit Oklahoma, to the bottom she dropped, Arizona exploded and upwards flames shot The pineapple fleet was destroyed. Nevada was making a run for the sea, At Hospital Point she struggled to beach, The Big Island covered with death and debris, By 9:45 it was done. Two thousand plus lives were taken away, FDR called it an infamous day, But not four years later, in Tokyo Bay, The victim the victor became. And so, on the seventh day of December, With flags at half-mast, as TAPS is played tender, Honor is paid, to those we remember, The boys who will never go home.
Ken B. Harper |
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