Was the War Worth It?

Was the War Worth It?

Today they interviewed vets from the Iraq war about the infidels that were taking over the country again. They asked the vets if the war was worth it. Hesitantly, they all in some form said the war was a waste, stating however that their comrades sacrifices were NEVER a waste. I think it was very eloquently said, and true, and I wish to god we would stop sending our men and women into wars, period. I also wish I had the quotes, because it brought me to tears hearing them speak of their comrades sacrifices, and thinking of my Ian who gave his life over there. It still brings me to my knees to think of the last time I saw him.

So here is a little poem about one of my last memories with him.

Going Away to War

I climbed in the back seat,
because the passenger door was stuck.
We were talking quietly of your impending
departure.
You told me you were scared
terror only fleeting in rear-view mirror eyes,
before leaning back over the center console
for a Spider-Man-kiss,
momentarily alleviating my own unease.

Everything was so easily fixed

with your big laugh.

By the time I crawled to the front seat,
you were back to just a boy on a date,
unknowingly a martyr in my midst.

The Various Deaths in Surviving

Alora was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed she and Jamar shared. He could see in the mirror as she rubbed her eyes, and then pulled her fingers through her hair, which was finally reaching below her lobes enough that she could tuck it behind her ears. He remembered that first gentle gesture, when he had candidly reached to tuck a long ebony strand of silk that had escaped her bun. When his fingers brushed her skin they had both froze, electricity sparking between them in the summer heat. Continue reading

Can Anyone Guess the Song Yet?

Can Anyone Guess the Song Yet?

Excerpt from something I’m scribbling! Can you guess which song it is based on yet? (Given, this part is not very telling).
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Patrick did his route in half the time it usually took, but he found himself winded from sprinting by the time he got back to his house. He bent over and heaved, trying to catch his breath adequately before going back inside. Pat took huge gasps of air, and scolded himself for being so silly and eager in the first place. Pat stood and breathed slower, his hands on his waist. As soon as he was breathing somewhat normal, he proceeded up the stairs to his front door.
Maria was fast asleep on the couch, one hand buried in Spartacus’ fur, her head tucked into Sparty’s shoulder.