R. K. Hart
R. K. Hart Poems
A Fathers Words To His Child.
Children are the gentle breezes for which parents plea.
They come they play around us then they flee.
We would hold them to our breast,
Protecting against all of life's dreadful tests.
You teach and doggedly hold.
But the day must come when they break from the mold.
With resounding break of a parental heart.
They step away, a life of their own to start.
I watched a beautiful young woman as she stepped the isle.
With maids surrounding she flashes her parents a comforting smile.
Where is the tomboy, who bowled the boys out?
And where is our back yards ...
Bugles Last Post.
I hear the sound of the bugles last post,
And in minds eye hear wars ghosts.
From muddy trenches body strewn,
Men scream, their strong bodies hewn.
I see muddy lagoons of slush and blood,
Men cast back forehead hit by snipers thud.
A photo clings bravely to a trench wall,
A family smile, he won’t see a babe crawl.