Tag Archives: WWII

WWII – in memorial

Once upon a battlefield
I stood where heroes fell,
where brothers, sons and lovers paused
to hear death’s tolling knell.

Once upon an open sea
I sailed where deep remain
the bodies of courageous men
who, by war were sadly slain.

Once upon the azure blue
I drifted through the crimson cloud
where valiant fighters dealt with death
to die alone in sullen shroud.

I’ve felt the moments summoned.
I’ve seen the grave despair.
I’ve witnessed every breath so gained
and every soul laid bare.

I’ve shed a tear not meant for me,
but for the uncaressed
that ne’er again felt warmth of love
before their final rest.

To their souls my prayer,
my honor and my truth,
that they be blessed eternal,
and blessed in memory’s youth!


Filed under History, Memory, Poetry

Georgia Station 1943

This summer night so softly calls, beckoning hearts to stay one more, as coyly baited anticipation pulls her past the station’s doors. Upon the platform, stalled in silence, the blue rails disappear through trees that hold this summer’s boundary, that hold this town where loved was pleased. For here life slowed its errant rush and dreams suspended moment’s splendor within the kiss of true love’s blush and all that truest arms can render. Slow and pointed, every kiss, so softly laid in Georgia’s moon, eternal, every moment’s claim, yet still this summer passed too soon, when through the southern pine the call, the orders came and he was gone. Stemmed along these rails of chance, their lives, their hopes, in whispers long.

In full moon’s fire the clouds broke bright in iron blue and angel white. The scent of pine and clay’s red rust held her captive as it must. A long low calling whistle echoes o’er some distant hill, shuddering her stoic courage, flirting with her iron will.

The platform mostly empty now, her one lone bag next to her side. Gabardine in blue and pressed, the rose he gave her tucked inside the fold at hat’s fine piping, that as she stood there still, its fragrance mixed in Georgia pine, stirred by full moon’s hope and will.

And so with time, as time does bend, her fleeting moment’s grasp did rend an echo along the steel railed tracks, that in each passing second stacked each moment spent, each sleepy kiss, each spark from every ember’s bliss, to well a tear divine.

The steam in angry spurts and spouts softened hard the whistle’s scream, as pounding out eternal hopes and stretching long arrival’s dream. The quiet night escaped the scene in unfamiliar porter’s rush, yet… from steeping recollection’s blur, one steam bound sigh reduced to, “hush!… feel the Georgia moon pull strong upon this liquid steel and night, blue in hopes and promise, red in love and blessed in white… hush!”

As she stepped aboard the sighing angel’s bluing heat, she heard her true love’s whisper, faint, “hold my kiss upon your lips until again we meet”…

Slowly left in silence, the platform stark in summer’s moon, as distance dims the pullman’s lantern, this summer’s bliss returns to June.


Filed under History, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

On Angel’s Wing

Suspended in a dream adrift,
tensioned gossamer wings have I,
in cloud and sunburst flux I shift,
held above beholding eye.

Roaring motive power drones
to silent whisper’s sweetest kiss,
hushed in mansion’s morning sum,
aloft the clouds in drunken bliss.

Seraphim, the farrier
by which my steed is shod,
for here there is no barrier
to joyous grin and thankful nod.

In roll and dive – “alive”
becomes a paltry exclamation,
when screaming “free!” is what I feel,
so fuels that acclamation!

In bending will, I balance here
twixt heaven and earth in flight,
solely bound to duty,
yet soar as angel amidst the fight.

Through golden glint and rays of hope,
my wings and I aloft partake
defense of homeland’s truth and honor,
balanced here for freedom’s sake.

Wings I’ve earned from warrior’s test
to take my battles to the sky,
proudly pinned upon my chest
as courage badged to fight and fly!

My love of hearth and home holds dear,
for each moment’s test is blessed in love,
that good shall conquer tyranny,
and free men shall rise above!

On Angel’s wings I fight it here!

(in honor and memory of all those that have served)

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Filed under History, Poetry

Behind This Broken Wall

Behind this broken wall I stand,
breathing deep, M1 in hand
with bullets whizzing by,
plaster forced to dancing high.
Here am I bound to reclaim this land.

Between the beats of heart I reel
in memory grasped and how I’d feel
to touch her hand in mine,
to feel her eyes on mine…
Then mortar blasts! My mind to steel!

“Move! Move!”, I heard the cry,
instinctually crouching, did truly fly
across the open alley.
The “thud”, the scream, the endless tally
grows, at hedge I turn to watch him die.

Some of us are lucky, blessed,
never found beneath the mess
of surging blood and pain,
feeling life so slowly drained,
and yet our fortunes’ only guessed.

Again I’m caught, as mortars fall,
and voices shouting, chopped, they call
the only words I know,
“raus” – get out! I’ve got to go,
as a glimpse of three I catch, quite tall.

I wonder if their nightmare’s mine.
I fight to push them cross the line
of being living men,
is it me or is it them?
I stand and fire three shots, they’re fine

and lie there in the winter’s mud,
as again I run against the thuds
of shelling in the town,
in heartache I could drown
to broken doorway with all my blood.

Intact, I can’t recall the flash
of steps and shots through seconds passed.
I hear the echoed boom,
and fear the shaking gloom,
so pray that this might end at last.

Behind this broken wall I stand,
pain of what I do in hand,
until the silence breaks
and kindly, quietly takes
my hopes in peace to end this stand.

Sarge calls, “fall out, it’s clear!”,
so softly step through rubble here,
to streets so choked
with death and smoke
and so it seems I’ve killed my fear.

I stand at broken corner, found
silenced by the squeaking sound
of only rolling tanks.
In silence I give silent thanks
and step beyond this killing ground.

This bloodied morning, grey in mist,
decries humility, despair left kissed
for those today we’ve lost
in honor at great cost,
these men we’ve loved and sorely miss.

Behind this broken wall I stand,
my truth and life in hand…

In honor of the 517th Parachute Regimental Combat Team – WWII

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Filed under History, Memory, Poetry

England 1941 (Veteran’s Day Tribute)

England 1941

By pond’s still quiet,
November found
‘neath blackened trees
and leaves of brown,
that chime through winds,
season’s decay
rustle the drying grasses to say
or whisper their seed tossed song.
Where prayer is heard
in sweetest words,
bless offspring’s journey,
brave, yet long…

Reeds, by pond’s edge, do blush
with naked stalks and seeds that flush
this breeze with passers by.
Where clouds of grey and white on blue
hang low, and brooding up the view
soften this season’s sigh…

Now above my head a thunder rises,
behind a cloud on blue, surprises
peace with a warring sound.
Two birds of war, in roaring chase,
bend wing on wing around the face
of the grey insipidous cloud.
There turn and twist by engine’s roar,
dive and stretch to fight for one more
breath, or one more shroud…

These two alone in November’s sky
bring anxious thoughts that recall why
I’m sitting here
amidst this November’s season.
Where God’s inspired this nature’s reason,
so disturbed by mankind’s cry
to peace and conquest, home and faith,
for loved one’s whose lives we face
this terror from the sky.
Where wisps of clouds become our means
to face the birds of war in seams
where their anger waits and hides.

These two on wooded edge, now slowly
chase, evade, and roar past lowly
dancing o’er the distant shore.
Yellow blasts and glints of sun
as black unfurls and spirals run
above to yonder clouds.
Where now the victor soars to heights
while in defeat and smoke the fight
twists slowly at the horizon,
and ends in forest’s shroud.

Tomorrow, I may be so blessed,
to rise to clouds of height and best
the anger of this season.
My bird and I pray for reason
to see us through.
There seek another autumn’s day,
and in it offer thanks and pray
my soul comes back to you.

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Filed under History, Memory, Nature, Photography, Poetry

Soldier’s Prayer

In the Field –

I’ve joined the fight to do what’s right
in aid of land and liberty.
I’ve stood my soul from head to toe
to fight as men who’re free,
Through mountains insurmountable
and trials that no man should know,
I hold my creed to do what’s right
that through it all this truth will show –

“God bless the loved ones of my home,
relieve their worry and their fear.
Grant them peace in knowing
that we fight as free men here.

Protect my brothers beside me,
bless their step that they’ll not fall.
Grant compassion’s wisdom,
that they’ll do right when anger calls.

Find me in your vision,
grant me strength when I’m alone.
Guide my hand with wisdom
that I may carry truth back home.

Forgive injustice when it’s played,
grant me strength to forgive in same,
that if You call for me here,
honor may embrace my name.
– Amen”

Those at Home –

They joined the fight to do what’s right
for peace and liberty.
Tall they stand, hand in hand
to represent all men who’re free.
Through trials unimaginable
and fears I know I’ll never know,
I know they hold their creed as truth
and through their actions honor shows.

“God bless our soldiers far from home,
comfort their worry and their fear.
Grant them peace in knowing
that we hold them close, we hold them dear.

Protect the men beside them,
guide each step, one and all.
Grant compassion’s wisdom
that unjust anger never calls.

Keep them in your vision, Lord,
hold them close when they’re alone.
Guide their path with wisdom
that together they may return to home.

Grant their hearts forgiveness
when injustice makes its claim.
Watch over them, protect them –
This I ask in your good name
– Amen”


Filed under Family, History, Memory, Photography, Poetry

My Father’s Sacrifice

Nello R. Arterburn – Staff Sargeant, 517th Parachute Regimental Combat Team, Company G – of the original cadre of the 3rd Battalion

Images thanks to the Wings of Freedom Tour – Fort Collins, CO – July 7th, 2012 – through reinactment and exhibited equipment
God Bless!


Filed under Family, History, Memory, Photography