Wicked Seeds Sown

Wicked seeds sowen - Copy


Wicked Seeds Sown

by Hugh A Tague

Celebrating the sublime, mindless of malice
murder becomes life’s darkest perversion
assassin’s bullets forge soldiers of the slain
martyred, their phoenix ignites freedom’s flame.

Powerless to bequeath true wealth lost
an ancient evil corrupts the human light
souls chosen to pay the Reaper’s steep toll
unconsciously pledge an immortal oath.

Those responsible to guide the many
deceiving their charge for greed and glory
warriors and weapons eternally morph
twisting flesh and metal to suit their war.

These wicked seeds sown have been sown anew
until Man salts the land of hate it grows
their faces and battlefields endlessly evolve
rain upon crimson-waxed earth is nature’s resolve.

Twisting flesh and metal to suit the war
unconsciously pledge an immortal oath
assassin’s bullets forge soldiers of the slain
martyred, their phoenix ignites freedom’s flame.

Feeling Memorial Day 2017

Memorial Day 2017

Feeling Memorial Day 2017

© 2017 Hugh A Tague

Seems fitting, here upon my life’s stage
gray skies keeps the sunshine at bay
on this particularly dark Memorial Day.
I wonder, are their souls abreast
can they see Democracy’s latest test
beneath the blanket of honor from which they rest.
Those who stand silent before Treason’s insight
disrespecting their sacrifice in spite
do not represent America’s plight.
Tears from heaven fall as drops of rain
their cry for justice I fear may wane
should integrity and honor die in vain.

A Nation Divided Our Children Cry

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A Nation Divided Our Children Cry
by Hugh A Tague III

In a small Florida town a shot rang out
A hooded young boy just on his way home
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

A perforated young heart beats no more
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Yelling and screaming he put up a fight
He took his last breath that dark rainy night.

Senselessly and needlessly a life lost
So many questions the answers unclear
Leaving most of us just wondering why
A nation divided our children cry.

No one around to help him stand his ground
Who speaks for him now can his voice be heard
His bright young light was turned off much too soon
Now that light twinkles with the stars and moon.

A hooded young boy just on his way home
His blood flowed into the now hallowed ground
Attacked by a man who brandished a gun
This battle this night he could not have won.

Hugh Tague 7/17/13

My Ode to Poe

My Ode to Poe
My Ode to Poe

My Ode to Poe
By Hugh A Tague

a dear friend took me on a walk one day
he told me about The City in the Sea
he spoke of a beautiful girl he once loved
A Valentine from his past Ms. Annabel Lee Continue reading “My Ode to Poe”

Martin Luther King of Men

Martin Luther King, Jr. King of Men
Martin Luther King, Jr.
King of Men

 

Martin Luther King of Men
by Hugh A Tague

Changing our world and all who live there
marching against ignorance and hate
his only weapons were peace and prayer
that was what made this King great.
Equality for everyone was his only plan
a kind soul who dared to dream for us all
given by God, taken away by man
on that dark April day when we saw him fall.
Every human need embrace his just plight
the lessons he taught, we must forever sing
men, women and children, black or white
a nation and the world mourn the brave King
Our father of hope, with the angels he flies.
Now it’s up to us to keep his dream alive.

© Hugh A Tague
original 1-6-13  edited 1-17-16

 

The Oath

The Oath
The Oath

The Oath
by Hugh A Tague

They all took the oath
some were barley eighteen
protecting our nations shores
and all the people in between.

Defending an idea
our forefathers did foresee
the simple notion that
mankind is meant to be free.

The cost of freedom high
the ultimate price many paid
they all took the oath
their sacrifice, we honor today.

For those who have served
past, present and yet to come
because they all took the oath
to oppression, we will not succumb.

“Burst of Joy”

Burst of Joy
Colonel John F. O’Grady POW/MIA  Photo by Salva Veder.

 “Burst of Joy”

( Storyline; first person) 
by Hugh A Tague

Carried on the wings of my Thunderchief
High above the Earth’s surface
Below my feet a land divided
On the Asian Island chain
Communism creeps

The bombs on my belly
Loaded with freedom from afar
Fire of oppression finds me
Returned to the Earth alive
Received into the hands of the Devil

Continue reading ““Burst of Joy””

Way Of The Warrior

Photo by Matthew Woltunski
Photo by Matthew Woltunski

This poem was inspired by
(Robert Frost’s “A Soldier”)

Way Of The Warrior
By Hugh Tague

The warrior’s body thrown to the ground
his soul released from its earthly bounds.
Freed to a place not known by men
Humanity struggles to understand.

The effect of his actions on the planet
taunt the universe we take for granted.
The weapons used to fall the man
rip, tear and destroy the land.

Sight set on victory at any cost
the warrior once stood tall, now is lost.

http://trrpoetry.blogspot.com/2013/05/poem-way-of-warrior_26.html

What Memorial Day Means To Me

What Memorial Day Means To Me
What Memorial Day Means To Me

What Memorial Day Means To Me

by Hugh A Tague

To some it’s just an extra long weekend
for others it starts the summer season.
I know what the holiday means to me
honoring those that died, so I may be free.

Some will take advantage of a great sale
others may just wonder why there’s no mail.
I see fields of white markers all in a row
as Arlington’s numbers continue to grow.

Many people will barbeque all day
spending time with family down by the lake.
most of us will honor those that fell
a twenty one gun salute says farewell.

What Memorial day means to me
remembering those already set free.

Their Cries of Protest

In this Pulitzer Prize-winning photo by John FIlo, bystander Mary Ann Vechio screams next to the body of Kent State student Jeffrey Miller, who was killed by Ohio National Guard gunfire on May 4, 1970.Images by; John Filo and Jeff Widener

Their Cries of Protest

By Hugh A Tague

May 4, 1970
Sixty Seven rounds of lead
perforate Blanket Hill.
Nine students wounded;
Allison, Sandra,
William and Jeffrey, are dead.
Triggers were not pulled accidentally;
unnecessary, unwarranted and inexcusable
that’s what was said.

Their Cries of Protest
gave birth to a nation
making Boston Harbor run red.
And fighting against hate
on the hill with Martin Luther King
A nation’s ignorance was shed.

Their Cries of Protest
faced oppression
standing alongside
Mohandas Gandhi.
And for humans everywhere
they were with the Tank Man
in Tiananmen Square.

Their Cries of Protest
in Egypt were more than a million strong
making a dictator step down.
Again they were heard
in the smoke over Baltimore
as it burnt to the ground.

Their Cries of Protest
transcend time and race,
exclusively human
they echo in our soul.
Sixty-seven rounds of lead
perforate Blanket Hill
nine students wounded,
four were dead,
Their Cries of Protest,
we hear still.

Father Mandela

Father Mandela
by Hugh A Tague

Shackled and lead to a cell,
freedom revoked by hatred
and fear.

Nearly three decades of complete darkness,
then into the peoples light
he appeared.

His dream of equality unchanged,
freedom’s resolve
unbroken.

Retribution for sins against him
were forever
unspoken.

Confessor of the dark and the light,
our voice of freedom,
endowing our country with sight.

He no longer walks by our side.
Never shall we forget
this man’s stride.

Father to his countryman,
teaching his children
patience and peace.

His wisdom and sacrifice
forever lives in the hearts
of all who are free.

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What to Say

Maya-Angelou

What to Say
by Hugh A Tague

What to say
about one whose words
have touched so many,
words not just read
and spoke out loud,
but are felt
by all they fall upon.
Words that inspired so many
to read, to write
and to see.

What to say
about one who has
not just bared witness,
but engaged in life
with a limitless vigor
few will ever know,
but for a read of our Lady Maya.

What to say
about one’s whose sight
has touched minds of
school-aged children,
as well as the minds of
men and women;
who shoulder
the weight of the world.

Four score and six years;
five of those fell silent,
for none knew better
the power of words
than she.

Perhaps all the words
that could be spoke,
or wrote,
about this great poetess
have been just that.
For even a man of words
such as myself,
I can think of but two….
Thank You.