Lucky Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 A sweet boy of eight Laughing, and shouting Fighting battles and winning the war So tired, but happy Until Mom calls Boy, it's time to come home! You can fight again tomorrow Come home and rest. Twenty five years gone A sweet man grown Still fighting his battles So tired, but happy Until God calls Boy, it's time to come home! No need to fight anymore Come home and rest. I'm not a poet and don't pretend to be. These thoughts have been in my head. I just wanted to share. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Laurie_ Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us... )))))Lucky((((( Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Levis Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 I think it's beautiful, Lucky... I really do Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Viaene Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 You are a poet Lucky, I feel tears in my eyes. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jenny Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 To go what you're going through and be able to so clearly and beautifully express your thoughts....this is very touching. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheLizard Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 I got shivers... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
skybluesky Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 Lucky you don't have to cry for a while cause I'm doing it for you. We all love you very much. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
johnnyguitar Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 You're the best poet here...by a long way. Jx Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Seeker Posted June 6, 2008 Report Share Posted June 6, 2008 It says a lot of things, and it moved me more than any other poem ever has. That is much more important than anything else. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tony Baloni Posted June 7, 2008 Report Share Posted June 7, 2008 That poem really says a lot. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Shawna Posted June 7, 2008 Report Share Posted June 7, 2008 It's taken reading upon reading upon reading this poem to get to a point where I can actually get through it without choking up. Dammit to hell, I hate crying. You don't call yourself a poet, but this piece is wrenchingly beautiful and moving beyond belief. So I think you may be toeing the line there. Writing is what helps us through the toughest times, and enables us to make something beautiful in the process. Gorgeous stuff, girlfriend. I can only imagine the pain contained in every one of those letters... Thank you for sharing what I know is intensely personal. We love you. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lucky Posted June 7, 2008 Author Report Share Posted June 7, 2008 You all are very kind. This isn't a good poem, it's just very personal words, that you are reading from my very personal point of view. My son died of a drug overdose. A battle that began with evil heroin, and let me tell you, that was a fight. But he battled, and won it seemed, 3 years clean and sober. Sometimes attending meetings 5 days a week. After he suffered an injury, painkillers entered the scene. And the battles began again. He fought so very hard, that man knew where every meeting was held in our town. But the enemy was too strong, and he lost that battle. I've thought a lot about how hard he fought, and I've been tortured by those thoughts. I woke up yesterday dreaming of when he was a little kid, playing war. You know how little boys are. We had a treefort in an old Gum tree, and there was an empty field close to our home. Those were the battlegrounds. He and his friends would toss dirt clods (bombs), or throw gumballs down from the tree, certain kids being the "good" and others being the "bad" guys. Those were happy days for him, so they were happy for me too. So, knowing how hard he fought, and just how tough this enemy was, I realized that if anything is good about this, it's the simple fact that he doesn't have to fight anymore. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
edna Posted June 8, 2008 Report Share Posted June 8, 2008 Carole, I just read your poem. Or your thoughts. Or your feelings. It´s very hard to describe how I feel about it because you´re a friend and we are suffering your pain too. But you made it. You said it all in a few tender and true lines. Bittersweet, so sad and so strong. You know things about me because we´ve talked a lot. You know things that I wouldn´t dare to post. So you know I can feel that battle in my own skin. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for your friendship. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MuzikTyme Posted June 8, 2008 Report Share Posted June 8, 2008 reading upon reading upon reading See, Carole, what true dedication can do? Very nice words. Be strong! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lucky Posted June 8, 2008 Author Report Share Posted June 8, 2008 You know, there was absolutely no reason to tell any of those details, except one. I am so very proud of my kid and the way he fought, and I wanted to express that. I hope he knows it, because I may not have told him often enough. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MuzikTyme Posted June 9, 2008 Report Share Posted June 9, 2008 One thing my granny forced into my brain: Kiss an angel good morning . . . And let 'em know you think About 'em when you're gone . . . Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MarcM Posted July 14, 2008 Report Share Posted July 14, 2008 Beautiful words, Carole. Good memories of happy times will get you through and always be there for comfort. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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