Patrick Dumas Poems
|2.||To The Lake||6/29/2007|
|3.||Mother To Son||7/11/2007|
|6.||A Gypsy Peers Through Her Crystal Ball||5/20/2011|
|8.||The Burning Dream||5/20/2011|
|9.||Back To The Start||7/12/2011|
|10.||Open Your Eyes||7/20/2011|
|11.||A Chance Of Seasons||10/24/2011|
|13.||Birth In The Desert, Death At Sea||10/25/2011|
|15.||The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner||7/11/2007|
|17.||The Burning Sun||5/20/2011|
Ice cycles hung from my nose
hands were stuck to my gun; froze.
All alone in a storm of white
couldn't tell day from night.
Then a warm feeling pierced my heart,
a sniper hit his mark.
Warmth followed by sweat.
Reached for life
but life let go.
So defined is the red blood
in the white snow.
Asking the lord for my mothers presence.
Scenes of life showed me my blessings.
The soldiers blood was warm
in the belly of the trench.
The storm made a good casket.
Mother To Son
Well, son, I'll tell you;
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor-
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,