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Erin_M_Ballantine

tonight - Poetry Group

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Erin_M_Ballantine
Posted

im a bit timid
tonight
a little lost
in the moonlight
questioning
everywhere
i think i should be

i don't know
how i know
but somehow
i know
i am supposed
to be here
tonight

i'm a bit raw tonight
like all
the nights
since i left
your side
but there's nothing
wrong
with raw
you say

im a little bit scared
tonight
i know you know
i cannot hide
i just get lost
in moonlight

i am here
tonight
im a little bit
timid
tonight


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i like this...its a little melancholy.


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I don't consider this so melancholy as I do of searching and healing for renewal. Thanks for sharing.
I think of war alot because not only is it in the news but my mother lived in Yugoslavia-as it was called then during WWII and then my sisters husband was in bosnia and came back damaged. I also have spoken to veterans so I wrote this poem and what it made me feel. I have several but this one is my latest.

This poem also goes to the women who have fought in war and have a grandpa at home. In grandpa’s life of war time men came back heroes. War never stops in this day and age so we receive different solace when we come home.
I have another poem of men mentally affected by war.

“A Soldiers Life Comes Home”


The young boy,
Started his life alone,
Not knowing his grandfather,
But from a distance,
Knowing he was the chosen one.

Boy raised up
By those who cared,
Learning different values,
Than his ancestors shared;
Then one day as history was made,
By war and separation,
Loyalty was born.

Many changes occur,
Through necessity,
Of war time blues,
Everyone is a stranger,
A friend ?
Indeed!

New bonds are made,
To last a lifetime now,
Sudden silence,
Awakens the mind,
And realize where time has gone.

Who has survived?
As the angry sea of hatred,
Washes away,
And memories come back,
Of the way we used to be.

The freeman finds a home,
Under the stars that blanket the night,
Listening for recognition,
Of what used to be,
But also realizing
Nothing will ever be the same.

From those who still hold hatred,
To those who hunger for more,
Of the good times that were had,
Only finding boys grew up to be men.

Seeing familiar faces
As the holidays begin,
Empty heads from new memories,
Looking at grandpa’s life,
That never changed.

With the straight and narrow,
We take a walk,
With the wise man’s words,
We hear with hesitation,
Not sure of the choices,
That we once made,
Were worth the anticipation,
Of different celebrations,
That would change our lives,
Surviving the bad deeds.

Starting again,
As the chaos left debris,
For you to pick up the pieces,
Clarifying,
What history was left,
To continue the legend,
Of an ancestry bond,
Like Grandpa,
Who is silently waiting,
For you to come home.

Jeanie Rose 10-09


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