Hero of the Hill
The castle crumbled to the ground and Johnny plainly knew that all the eyes of heaven watched to see what he would do.
To run away and hide himself he knew would kill his soul; so, drawing sword, he stood atop a nearby grassy knoll. He hollered for all Brave to form a line behind his back, but to him rallied not a man to counter the attack which felled the walls of castle strong (the siege was just too great). Most Brave had fallen with the walls while Faint Hearts ran away.
Resolving that the last free hill he’d with his life defend, he dared the conquering enemy to send their bravest men, but send them only one-by-one. The enemy just laughed. Still, sport they saw in Johnny’s cry, so one strode up the path.
But quick the sword of Johnny struck its mark with native skill, which made the foes below to yell, “Hey, let’s play king-of-the-hill!” Around the hill stood thousand men who loved the sport of blood, and each one thrilled to think that he would siphon Johnny’s blood.
The second man to mount the hill was mighty Master Khan. He’d killed a hundred men before — he looked for hundred-one. When Johnny’s arm was sliced it bled and made the Master grin, but with his blade bold Johnny did with fury thus begin to show the Master that a soul, though wounded, can defend a free land with his very life: his weapon flew like wind.
The scoffers’ thirst for blood did surge to see their Khan get hacked! They all began to charge the hill, but loud cry held them back: his voice was piercing, strong and sure, his words did stop their tracks. He cried, “The Ghost of Khan shall rise and fend off your attack unless you come just one-by-one until this day is done and darkness shrouds this barren hill; so, fight me one-by-one!”
With jeers and sneers they ground their teeth each time new head would roll; as red sun set, still, Johnny stood erect on sanguine knoll. When night did cover fallen foes, their comrades raised a cry and charged at Johnny in pitch dark to make that bugger die!
… In morning light he walked alone where once the castle stood; the horde of foes had killed themselves to quench their thirst for blood.
The battle fought, he slipped away as Faint Hearts reappeared. They said he could have been their King except for one small fear: “We fear that with such bloody hands, with sword that’s lost its shine, the values of our peaceful land — like love — will see decline.”
Thus, true heroes and true heroines by nature fade away, since in their selfless gallantry they cannot force their way.
Adieu.
Patti Lee
Once upon a time in a village by the sea lived a spry and happy girl, little darlin’ Patti Lee. In her garden she would play quite imaginary games: all her flowers sweetly sing, and her trees do dance with rain. She makes everyone so glad, makes them very very glad.
In the cottage window sits, watching her while she’s at play, an old soldier who’s returned from a war far far away. In his mind he’s still at war fighting battles fought before. When he loses them again, sleep does save him with a snore. Patti Lee keeps at her play; a flat rock becomes tea tray.
‘Cross the sea there still is war where young men are dying for causes that can save the world — causes well worth dying for. One young soldier’s in the front thinking of his cottage yard where his daughter is at play, where rose petals are her cards. Being gone is very hard, O so very very hard.
This young soldier and his dad people say are really mad, fighting wars so far away while a good life could be had working in the village streets as a constable, a cop, keeping home fires glowing warm as sweet Patti spins a top. Patti Lee keeps at her play all the while her dad’s away.
When he comes back safe and sound, tales of war he will not tell as he plays out in the yard helping Patti build a well. All the pain he suffered there in a moment flees away ‘cos he sees in Patti’s eyes the reward of all he’s paid — Patti Lee can freely play, she can freely freely play.
Good Queen Jill
There once was a tower where sat a good Queen, but just through a window was she ever seen. Her goodness made bishops and princes all fear to ever let her to her people draw near. They feared that she’d give all their riches away and cancel the taxes the poor had to pay.
“Queen Jill, don’t you see that the poor need the rich, ‘cos their little wagons need some place to hitch. They can’t afford horses or stables or barns; ‘tis better if they do the work on our farms.”
Queen Jill didn’t say what she had in her mind — she knew that their cunning was hard to unwind. So later that night when the castle was dark and no one expected the Queen to depart, Queen Jill stole away under cover of night disguised in a peasant cape, tied and held tight. Into the shadows of village she crept and into the square where a woman she met did tell her to hurry and get off the streets ‘cos shadows will swallow a wench’s bare feet. But seeing her feet fit in finest of shoes, the elderly lady there started to coo, “And what have we here on the street all alone — does seem like the lady has lost her way home! How much do you want, Dearie, for those fine hoofs?”
Before the Queen mustered her thoughtful reply, two sets of strong hands seemed to come from the sky to yank her from danger and take her back home – t’were guards of the Bishop who’d seen the Queen roam.
“Queen Jill, you are twenty,” the Bishop did say. “You certainly shall be a Saint if you pray for all of the lost ones who wander in dark. So come now, Milady, it’s time you embark upon quiet pilgrimage ‘cross the blue sea.” And thus our Queen Jill did get lost in history.
A charge to the Light Brigade
(for the director of music)
Once a mighty Asian warlord sought to renew his strong hold,
So invited all his kingdom new ideas to him unfold.
One young warrior filled with visions of that kingdom’s grand success
Mounted stallion, beckoned others to join him in selflessness.
R:
Go ahead unfurl your visions. Go ahead let loose your dreams.
Heedlessly go into battle, undaunted by evil’s schemes;
You know that your career may end up lost to you some day.
To the Grander Kingdom of Light, ones like you must lead the way.
—
The young warrior subdued peoples — claimed new lands for his warlord;
And the warlord praised his daring, feigned they were in one accord.
Then the minions of the warlord machinations did relume;
To the warlord counsel proffered: Time ‘tis now your rule resume.
R
Charged into the last great battle with the warlord on his back;
Every blow he struck the foe with, he felt his own life force crack.
Battle won, the warlord champion eulogized this warrior brave;
Said the kingdom now needs others in his stead the gains to save.
R
Two Enemies Meet
Bombs exploding, dark forebodings,
as the earth shakes with each blast;
bullets ripping, past me zipping –
one false move will be my last!
“Kill or be killed!” shouts the sergeant
as he takes one in the side.
All my senses swirl and tumble –
is there someplace safe to hide?
There’s a silence as the whistle
from the bullet aimed at me
hits my armored vest so squarely
that I’m knocked back in a tree.
I’m unconscious as the enemy
overruns our lines right then.
Now a prisoner, at their mercy,
… to a camp I now am sent.
In the camp my comrades ask me
how the war for us now goes?
I stare blankly, Oh so blankly,
as my brain feels like cold snow.
When I wake up six days later,
the camp I’m in has set us free.
And they’re sending me to someplace
where there is no enemy.
Some years later I am meeting
a soldier from the other side.
We shake hands and talk in whispers
and we both break down and cry.
“Kill or be killed” – killed so many –
and we, too, feel like we died.
But by living, writing, feeling,
we hope peace will never die.
Yes, through living, feeling, writing …
we hope peace will never die.