Pheasants? ? ?
I was there in that land beyond the sea
The night was the blackest....that...
It ever could be...
When guns to the left... and... then to the right...
Cut loose... with such chatter...
I came out of my hole... emptying a clip...
Shouting... what the Hell was the matter...
Then with the adrealin in my gut...
And on my back of my neck...
There stood all my hair...
Through the night...till morning...
Turned out...nothing was there
By the early morning light...
My unit started to howl...
The Great White Hunter had been shot...
Because of his late night prowl...
I thought at first he... he...looked like a
Great Horned Owl
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Stories About Home
I lived once in the North
And for a while, way in the South
I have some stories... that'll
Tear a man's heart out
These are the one's
I numbered ten... eleven...and twelve...
They moved so fast...
I ended living... in living Hell
But those that I numbered one thru nine...
They let the world see...why... my eyes..
My heart...
Will never again shine
I know It's hard sometimes to live
Where you can't see the sun...
Because of all that... endless rain...
I look to see.. how too... help others
Because I have lived...every kind of pain
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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A Man Like Me
Should you ever meet
A man like me
On a road or some busy street
With a back so scared
Head bent low
And eyes that have seen defeats
With a soul that fight the past
Where sorrow's play their broken harps
A living death, and all that's left
It this man with a broken heart
My family? Well? They've no right
To judge, or critize, nor even condemn
Because, sometimes their actions
Are just like them
Oh such careless steps, such thoughtless deeds
Oh how my misery starts
For I have faced, so much abuse
And that's what gave this broken heart
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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After Nights
I've hated to talk about it,
but there has been so many after nights.
I've needed to work out, one more story.
Trying to end, my often very sad's.
Another one, of my, the most incredibly bad's!
My heart, was shaking as I knelt on the ground.
My hands, were pressing his wounds.
Pressing hard, prayng, deeper and deeper.
Begging God, Help, Shouting, Holding back the Grim Reaper
Like his mother, my shaking hands
With a sobbing, torn chest
Held him tightly to my breast
Gently wiped the blood from his face and lips
I watched, and felt his soul, escaped my grip.
Raining tears washed the blood from his face.
Even now, I've often wished that God.
Would've let me take his place!
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Agent Orange
The thought, never came to my head
Never thought it could said
You see, He had truly cared for us
Like a mothering Hen making a fuss
We had often hidden face first down
Thinking there was safety,
Lying on the ground
While Rockets, Guns, Claymores
Him and each round, screaming,
Keep your heads down
How do I describe, War, Blinding White,
Thunder...
He had said. Dont be stupid,
Or make a blunder...
Thirteen months,
Now that's our lucky number
Just Rembember to thank God
That were not Six Feet Under
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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The Last Love Song
Precious Family... Dearest Family...
Love's... sweet.... message....I impart....
May loves's.. spirt...pure... and fervid.....
Enter...every... troubled heart.........
Carry there...love's swift conviction....
Turning back...those... tear filled life's....
Precious Family... Dearest Family.....
May love....In our souls.. abide..........
Precious Family.... Dearest family....
I am weak...... but love..is strong..........
Love.. has.....infinite compassion.......
To stem the tides... of pain's.... and wrong's.....
Love keep's... its arms.... around me........
Love keep's..... me... in the narrow.. way......
Precious Family....Dearest family........
Let us never... from love... stray............
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Only Just The Dad
I was there,
when you were first born.
They handed you, into my arms.
That was the first time I'd ever prayed.
Asking God only, help me, keep her from harm.
I was there, with them again.
At the hospital, you were so very sick.
I was brave, except I stood all night
Biting my lower lip.
And my heart felt, as if it had fell,
into that bottemless pit
Then two years later, again with them.
This time they said doing better.
And tubes in your ears.
And the third time I prayed.
Asking God Please! just let her hear.
I was there when you learned how to ride your bike.
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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I Wondered What Was Next
So I wondered what was next
As I said good night
I wondered what was next
As I said good night
With head bowed and soul I prayed
These words I said
Please, send the Angels
To guard this, little sleepy head
And as I watched, I sung
Go to sleep, go to sleep
Close those little bright blue eyes
Night-time is coming
The sun is on the far side
Angels are watching
Our vigil to keep
While the Sandman is filling your eyes
It's time for you sleep
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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My Times
There were many times... and
I lived there...
There were many times, that I could not believe...
That such violence... and such abuse's... ever exisited...
But never-the-less... they were my times...
There were many...many times... And I lived them all
So this is my time of acknowledgement
And yes there were many times...
That, I wished those other times...had never exisited
And there were many times...that experience would whisper
and shout...
That the time would come...that these things would be
witnessed
And so this is one of those times...
I tell my family that I do not enjoy...
The times of these denile arguments...
Nor the time nor the necessity...of this conflict...
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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Breaking Unbreakable Bars
Yes it's true I choose
To dream an impossible dream
To fight an unbeatable foe
To go back to that valley of sorrow
Where all brave fear and dare not to go
To change,
An unchangable wrong
For Love that burns as a star
To fight when I'm so tired so weary
To break unbreakable bars
For this is my plan to follow that love
No matter how hopeless no matter how hard
To fight for the right things without question or pause
To fight that evil
For love there is no greater cause
Also because I know that
For love to be true
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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