PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A broken dream pieced together,

forgotten tales never told by tongue

living memories rise to the top.

I hear the drums beating the march

ready for the bombs to drop.

Each night and day it gets louder and louder 

for the life I missed I feel prouder and prouder,

I should of walked in the footsteps of old 

for my sword and my rifle should never of felt cold.

I stand in the mist of everyday life

to realise it was not meant for me

always against the grain and the opposite way,

to prove that I was right.

now the drums beat and my heart yearns for war,

my hands have grown idle and my mind is torn

decisions to make are all too late 

denied my own self and twisted my fate.

To war beats my heart to war and for glory,

for you Topper... I tell this sad story.

Who am I?

Just a man.

Unable to keep hold of a ladies hand.

Out of time, under practiced and in decline 

I feel I have failed your line.

To all those who have gone before me 

may the veil of silence be lifted,

for you had the strength and courage 

to me, you are the truly gifted.