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Soldier, Take My Hand
by Gary Jacobson © 2002
I’m off to war tomorrow...
Facing a task far greater than I’ve ever done,
Stripling happiness quelled for sake of sorrow
From a life of bliss harbored in youth’s eggshell,
Sent to the oppressors homeland to dwell,
Comes time for surviving under far away sun.
Patriotism, take my hand in duty's devotion.
Grant me a strong heart beating ever true.
Let my love light, guide over the darkest ocean
That by every action, precepts of justice ensue.
Courage, fill a childish heart with toughness to rely on.
Help me as a man to go the extra length.
Grant me the courage of a lion.
O, let me feel his strength.
Bravery, take my trembling, innocent hands.
Bolster them to like you be brave.
Stay close by my side unto foreign lands
So I might principles of right for humanity save.
Honor, in all I do, let me walk with you
Empowered by very soul of chaste virtue elect.
Grant me integrity to in very being earn respect
Facing forces of evil that stormy salvoes blew.
Duty, plant in me thy soul of loyalty,
Spirituality to feed my starving soul,
Dignity that I might in essence bring forth humility,
Giving succor to humankind’s whole.
Liberty, fill my core with freedom’s delight so pure,
Kissed by blessed sun and rain through tempests share,
Fighting to give rare gifts of life a holy cure,
To predicated beliefs of eternal brotherhood bear.
One Foot In The Past
by Gary Jacobson © 2002
One foot lies still in the raucous past,
Evoking sweet and sour memories of lifetimes last.
One foot lies on the threshold of the future
Bogged down there, forget the optimistic adventure.
One foot long ago an imprint casts,
An expenditure of history’s devastating blasts,
Shadows of men no more than bestial creatures.
Tied to ancient divestiture a soul captures.
From blackened orange in men yet screaming,
In jungle green, vibrant, horrid past, still dreaming?
Go quiet mid turmoiled dye to that fatal rest
Foggy death will attest.
Young boys who suffered a greenstick fractured past,
Up and down life’s roller coaster quickening fast,
Yield to minds and souls devastating forfeiture.
Soar above worlds whose very skies enrapture.
Nature makes of a warrior’s soul indentures,
Forevermore in wonderment of Holy Scriptures,
Of deeds with meaning monumental to the past,
By and by finitely aghast.
One foot has walked through the valley of hells,
Led by forces of hatred to places Satan dwells,
Sent to route out his evil designs,
To quell memory of one foot caught in violent times.
Forever in faded literature, war's a hoary picture,
So this young man’s venture,
Bondage binding as a corded ligature,
Swallowed good life much as a vulture...
Crossed Swords
by Gary Jacobson © 2002
Bless me never to cross swords with my conscience
That I in haste to duty sacrifice virtued patience.
Never tolerate intolerance to noble difference.
Be lionhearted in every word and deed started.
Never brook those who oppose the stouthearted.
In might of right stand to the final hour dauntless.
Wield the sword that to every foe appears fearless.
Be ever gallant to duty
Boyhood innocence quickened by enforced maturity.
With intrepid bravery, contend always heroic.
Be not to good passions stoic.
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