#Poetry “Moving Forward in Reverse”

Moving Forward in Reverse

The past never leaves, but is blind,

Blurring visions of the future,

Events that once were left behind.

Memories reincarnate from a time gone by,

Moving forward seems impossible,

Reparation vacant, reinforcing the question why.

Is it the enemy or a gift given by events beyond any control?

Appearing without out discrimination,

Memories climbing up a tunnel from a dark hole.

A dwelling opponent with appearing from dark resurrection,

What if this, I could have done that,

Opposing it’s will with no ability for correction.

A gift when remembered and lessons have been learned,

A cluttered path becomes clear,

An advantage in life’s choices, and the freedom you have earned.

Take the past’s lessons, plan and rehearse,

Better late than never,

Moving forward in reverse.

©2019DTHUDSON

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#Poetry “Garden of Trust”

Garden of Trust

 

In this vast world filled with humans, seek those that one can trust,

The inside is true and what matters,

The outside insignificant, beautiful or covered with rust.

 

To see a person for who they are takes not your eyes,

Listening with one’s ears,

Sorting out the truth and the lies.

 

Eyes locked in place, speech genuine and profound,

These are the words to believe,

Straying from truth, when the conversation turns to the ground.

 

Seeking similar souls and building a safe place,

These seeds of a beautiful garden grow,

The weeds pulled and are displaced.

 

 As the flowers grow, harmful intentions sound off like a symphony of 1000 horns,

No matter how much work or beautiful this garden of roses,

there will always twice as many thorns.

DTH ©2018

Front Man

FRONT MAN

 

A family, church, perhaps battalion with a battle plan,

History has proven success through a constant,

the strong leading Front Man.

 

A squad patrolling in the jungle or the sand,

The sergeant on the street,

Or the lead singer of a band.

 

This person has no gender, their color does not matter,

A soft tongue yet careful ear,

Measuring what is heard through the jeers and the chatter.

 

Standing in the front, yet among those they appear to lead,

Hard, compassionate, yet fair,

Accounting for all, ensuring every need.

 

Defining those around them, speaking for the mass,

The best of what is around,

Polished like fine silver, transparent as glass.

 

The Front Man must know that they simply represent,

all that surround them,

No matter the scratches on the surface, a tear or dent.

 

Walking softly yet hidden beneath, a reluctant hammer,

Good, bad, or indifferent,

A buffer from hell given, recipients of inadvertent glamour.

 

How did they get there, are they volunteers?

Chosen by fate, life, or other means,

Suffering the boos and the relishing the cheers.

 

Be it a soldier, cop, or nurse, sometimes even a music fan,

 Willingly or not are defined,

by the words and actions of the person they call their Front Man.

 ©

“The Letter”

The Letter

Today I met you for the very first time,

Many questions need answers,

Seeing you are the victim of your own crime.

 

We are about the same age, your home similar to mine,

Pictures and favorite things,

 you are not a hard person to define.

 

On the table is camera with an impressive lens,

A camera similar to mine,

Who knows, maybe we could have been friends.

 

 The puzzle piece of your life summed up in a letter left on the floor,

Together our time will be short,

 Absorbing your written thoughts, as I slowly close the door.

 

I am not here to judge you and can only assume,

Your thoughts consumed your soul,

your world, now this dark room.

 

Your life on paper, like a script from a show,

Every pain, hardship and sorrow,

Left to be found by me, someone you didn’t even know.

 

To this earth, this life, you are no longer bound,

Placing a small part of your burden on me,

This scene of sadness, in a letter left to be found.

 

You answer the question why and the how has been done,

The haunting torment ends,

for those who cared, it has only just begun.

 

Understand when I read this, there is no way for me to feel what you did,

A spirit gone and wasted ,

For me like before, these images hidden, secured with a tight lid.

 

I was summoned here today certainly not by my choice,

Putting your story in a stranger’s hands,

Trusting that I will now be your voice.

 

I don’t know your whole life or why you chose this day,

but who cared for you are now my concern,

And I will not let them see you this way.

 

If you can hear me, know I think you made a mistake,

Your tragedy now mine too,  

The details with be softened, simply for your family’s sake.

 

What is going to happen now isn’t what you think,

The pictures and your story will be re-written,

Like others before and after, the effect will not grow, but shrink.

 

It is better me do this rather than someone who you knew,

A permanent solution to a temporary problem,

Their hearts broken, my next call waits with something new.

 

You may think I don’t care, but you committed your own crime,

There have been many before you,

Understand that this certainly is not my first time.

 

Quietly I speak hoping my words you can hear,

Many have traveled the same path,

Some who do my job, their memories met with my tear.

 

Make no mistake, with me this day will remain,

But your face and story will be placed with the others,

another link in an unfortunate chain.

 

In one quick action this life came to a tragic stop,

You took your own life today,

This life, this story, now retold by this stranger, this cop.

©


Suicide and suicide prevention have such profound effects on those around each tragedy.  I have unfortunately had to deal with an unusual number of suicides as a police officer.  As my career progressed, these suicides really hit home when my co-workers, my friends, decided that this was also their escape.  The true answers and circumstances rarely, if ever, are brought to light. 

I recently red an article regarding police officers that have considered either harming themselves or taking their own lives.  This is a tough world.  This article is eye opening.  No longer should we be turning a blind eye to the epidemic of first responders and soldiers regarding the trauma that they face throughout their career. Bravado and toughness come with acceptance and help.  Please get help.  Please speak with your family and friends.  

Also take a look at the article link below.  Thank you for reading this difficult poem.

https://www.nbcnewyork.com/news/local/I-Team-Nearly-1-in-5-Cops-Has-Considered-Suicide-Amid-Stigma-Around-Mental-Health-Issues-500928011.html?fbclid=IwAR1vugiFPxNXFJn406RAnBfgOjubZ5QktrmFhYvTK7f_UJY6vf66O9OJSeY

Pray for Our Country

Pray for Our Country

Pray for our beautiful country,

It is what we all have together,

One nation united under God.

©


Whether you believe or not, what does it hurt? Our country, our name is supposed to unite all.  Do we always get along? No.  Do we always agree? No.  Will we ever get along and agree?  No.  What we can do is disagree, respectfully, and still be one nation.  It makes us stronger and better every day. 

If you pray, pray for this country as a whole.  If you don’t pray, see the previous sentence.  If you choose not to, understand your choice is accepted because of the very country of which you live. 

The freedom to respectfully express oneself and opinions is something of which we have, and continue to, pay a dear price.  Be responsible with these freedoms.  Be respectful to your fellow countrymen and countrywomen. 

Thank you to my beautiful wife for taking a picture of these less than perfect hands.

Wolf’s Call


Wolf’s Call    

The wolf howls at night,

and in sunrise of the early morning,

the pack hungers no more.

                                                                                                                                                               ©
Photo credit goes to my very talented brother-in-law, Jeff Lekatz. Thanks Rock Star!

Haiku “Abandoned”

Abandoned

 In the coldest of winter,

                The song of the bird is silenced,

                                       yet the nest remains waiting.                       

                                                                                                             ©


Haiku poems are powerful, so little word, so much meaning.  Traditionally dealing with nature, three lines, five words, then seven, then five more. Challenging but really but right to the point.  Just the way I like it!

I took this photo in Arizona while visiting my parents. This little fella was high in an entry way.  I could stretch my arms no further, but I think it turned out just fine.

“Jedidiah”

Jedidiah

Jedidiah, Solomon the King, known for his song,

Wisdom and wealth excelled by God,

Before him are his people of which he judges right and wrong.

 

Kindness of word often met with evil response,

Glaring injustice before you,

Righteousness is the armor in this confusing nuance.

 

What else can I do, what does it exactly take?

Move forward true to the word,

Powerful truth etched in minds like stone tablets, conclusions they will not make.

 

This corrupt game is cancer, lingering like a ship off the shore,

What was once now is destroyed,

I choose to feed it no more.

 

The world spins one direction bringing light each day,

For others it spins out of control,

And in darkness is where they stay.

 

I choose to travel the high road, wash my hands of the past,

Learning from each new commitment,

Forging my iron with those that last.

 

Gray lines to some are in the middle, I see them closer to black,

I stay on the white line,

Once crossed over, there is no turning back.

 

It takes many coats to cover dark writing on a wall,

But dark writing appears easily,

In the end, was it worth it all?

 

I say no, to graffiti a pure and subtle place,

Is to slip from the gray line,

And be filled with shame and disgrace.

 

Will they admit it, to no one but themselves?

Ego, and hate ruling their lives,

Each pain stored on their mind’s shelves.

 

I have no answer why injustice sometimes prevails,

Impatience of heart be calmed,

The story hardly over, not knowing what it entails.

 

Questioning why and predicting the plot,

Our own ignorance abounds,

Patience provides peace, and answers to questions sought.

 

Value is in a family that becomes much closer,

The reward is the song like Solomon’s,

Rich with peace and love, and God is the composer.

 

Do you split the baby or give it whole to the liar?

The corruption starves with no food,

You have won your family,  traveling the road that is higher.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saint Michael

Saint Michael

I was content, satisfied with those already here,

Not expecting how much you could love,

How much I would hold you dear.

 

Brave yet timid, sometimes easy to scare,

Your devotion to this family,

Offering your white paw for me to share.

 

You stayed for the summer, not one to forget,

Chasing cattle in the pasture,

Learning how to play, but never figured out “sit”.

 

I thought back to all the good times we had,

Your master called you home,

My heart was wrenched, this day beyond sad.

 

I saw it in your eyes, confusion and fear,

Loaded you in the car,

Said good bye with a tear.

 

I will come and visit every chance I get,

and bring your favorite bone,

And together, we will work on sit.

 

All summer I would visit, but it was not the same,

So excited for visits,

Leaving you there was a shame.

 

The falls leaves turned, and the weather became bitter,

Your master fell ill,

And asks us to be more than a sitter.

 

She picked you up that day and told you it was time to go,

Jumping in to the car,

Your bed and toys in tow.

 

Meekly you ran to me, my eyes shined like chrome,

This is your family,

Mikey had made it back home.

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