These are a few sample poems from my newly published book My Inner Light. The book for now can be purchased at:
or at:
search for My Inner Light
Hope you enjoy the book.
SOME OF US FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
SOME OF US SIT AND COMPLAIN,
SOME STAND UP AND SAY "ENOUGH"
SOME RUN AND HIDE FROM THE HEAT OF THE FLAME.
A FEW OF US WILL STAY BEHIND, OBLIVIOUS TO THE SACRIFICE,
NEVER KNOWING WHERE TRUE HONOR LIES,
NEVER ABLE TO RECOGNIZE.
IT'S NOT JUST SOME COLORS, IT'S OUR WILL TO SURVIVE.
IT'S NOT JUST SOME RAG, IT'S OUR WAY OF LIFE.
IT HONORS SO MANY WHO HAVE GIVEN THIER LIVES,
WHO PICK IT BACK UP, SHOULD IT HIT THE GROUND IN A FIGHT.
WE DRAPE IT OVER HEROS, WHO SAY NO ONE HURTS YOU TONIGHT.
IT'S OUR SOAL,
IT’S OUR GUIDING LIGHT.
BUT REMEMBER THIS AS YOU DECIDE.
BUT THOSE WHO FLY OUR FLAG WITH PRIDE.
SEPTEMBER 11th 2001
I remember the day they fell.
The day that cowards took so
Many lives. I have no choice
But to remember it well.
I thought the first was a mistake.
Crashing in, and I could not
Breath, my strength left me and
I fell to my knees.
The two fires burned in the
Middle of the sky
But I remember being a bit relieved,
When I saw so many still alive,
Running for some kind of shelter,
Running for their lives.
Rage boiled inside of me, as I saw some
Jump from the highest floors. and I
Forced myself to watch and prepare,
I knew there would be more.
But then a strange sense of pride came over
Me, as tears filled my eyes. Because I watched
The heroes rush in to hell, not thinking for a
Moment of saving their own lives.
And then more rushed out, the same look on
All their faces, confusion and pain, some
Burned, most bloody, all thinking the same
Thing…..WHY.
The fires it seemed, would burn hotter than most,
Melting glass and steel. I remember wondering
If the heroes would get out, and then reality took
Hold.
The first tower began to fall, crashing to the ground,
I felt so small. How many more had just lost their
Lives, how could the heroes inside have survived.
A lone camera man still rolling live, sent this image of
Terror, I was paralyzed. As the smoke filled my screen,
Only then did I believe, that this was all real, and not some
Nightmarish dream.
I lowered my head in prayer, for all those lives lost, for my
Own sanity. but those moments of silence seemed so short a
Time, the horror was just beginning, I felt so cold inside.
The second one then started to fall, and again I asked why.
I knew I would get no answer, just the cold hard reality
That terror had struck a mighty blow that day, knocked
Down the peaceful towers, and left a hole in the sky.
I watched through the day, and most of the night, as more heroes
Rushed in, looking for some sign of life.
And then I stood and gave the proper respect, as a few heroes climbed
A pile of rubble, and planted the American flag.
As I watched it ripple in the breeze, I realized the cowards had not knocked
Us out, they had just brought us down to one knee.
I began to think of retaliation through my anger, but that’s not
A decision I am qualified to make. Whatever our response would
Be, we would give terror a moment of pause, and we would all
Fight to keep this nation free.
So many years ago now, but the memory clear when the towers fell.
I will always remember the day,
That so many died.
That so many rushed in, risking their lives.
That so many since then, have paid the highest price.
So that the rest of us know what it means to be free.
Our troops are out there, still fighting on,
Mothers, Fathers, Daughters, and Sons.
Too never let happen again. September 11th, 2001.
-Fackerell 2008
Charlize
Have you ever lost an argument, to a five year old.
I don’t remember a warning of this, in the parent manual.
Has anyone as young as this, ever blown your mind.
Like telling you exactly like it is, then waiting while your brain
Catches up to your surprise.
One of the newest little pieces of my heart, is this five year old little
Wonderful child.
Every bit as talented as the other five, at smoothing the jagged edges of a puzzle,
That was once my life.
Now as smart as I may think I am. This child offers challenges, no adult ever has.
Seeing the world as it is, as she needs it to be. I am an amusement to her, when my hair is down, she calls me her hippie.
A vulnerable side, as with any child. A thunderstorm on the horizon, jumps into my bed,
And sleeps through the night.
Now a question, to those who know what I mean, how can she watch a hundred times in one week, the same DVD.
So creative is she, makes us the characters she sees, but so funny the way it goes. I am the penguin, grandma the monkey on the boat, and grandpa the Madagascar Hippo.
I don’t believe she could ever get lost, a trail of toys, leading to her favorite spots. And on natures call in the middle of the night, a lone well placed toy, on which to stub my toe.
The only real retribution I get, is an occasional tickle, of an exposed armpit. Wiggle and squirm within my grasp, until she falls to the floor, and uncontrollably laughs.
Victory is mine, short lived as it is, still I feel good inside. When she laughs, when she cries, when she wants me to hug her tight, there is no doubt, she has added years to my life.
Another empty shampoo bottle, she wanted bubbles in her bath, I laid out the ugly pajamas for her again, I will incur her wrath.
She will try to escape the bathroom in only what god intended I bet, and avoid my grasp, she is slippery when wet.
Then I will have to bribe her with some delicious treat, to put the drawers on her butt, and the socks on her feet.
She changes the subject many times, when its time for bed, on goes that DVD, while she lays down her head.
She is changing, and growing fast. But for many years to come I hope, her dependence on me will last.
I do not raise her alone you see, I am just a part of her world. And I do not have her every night, but she is still in my dreams, no matter where she sleeps.
She may be a normal five year old to you, to me she is unique, the next time she runs to me, throws her arms around me, and says she loves me, then again she will ask to watch the DVD. that’s an argument to which I happily concede.
FACKERELL 2008
