A delicate tear,
Drops on her last letter home.
His blood in the sand.
haiku by Gary Bryson
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Tumbleweed dances,
The wind and sand sting my face.
Water gone, no hope.
haiku by Gary Bryson
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Coi fish glide, shimmer,
Light fades as the night draws near.
Beauty never sleeps.
haiku by Gary Bryson
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Find Rest My Soul In Lyric’s Chime
Find rest my soul in lyric’s chime,
Refreshed anew by making rhyme.
It’s course my thoughts direct the paths
That make my mind to sing.
When all the world in chaos sways
A refuge here I find.
I feel my mind has wings.
With pen and poem I find new ways,
To speak to all mankind.
My poems, my thoughts, I find may last;
My world renewed by taking time,
With rest refreshed by making rhyme.
10/17/05
poem by Gary Bryson
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O Love their Sits a Lion in the Gate
O Love their sits a Lion in the gate
My duty calls above my heart’s desire
Mortal conflict is for sure and cannot wait,
Speak not of peace amidst so great a fire.
Great winds from Eden burn the fair green land
Do we sit idly admits the boiling pot?
The approaching tempest will quickly be at hand,
And defiles the beauty of this very spot.
But my love your faith I will remember
And courage it gives against the lions might.
Your love for me preserves the burning ember,
Of courage growing strong throughout the fight.
Your faith in me will be my victory cry,
With you this mortal’s fear for now will die.
For you this mortal’s fear for now will die.
1982
poem by Gary Bryson
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For Respect
Why do men go off to war?
What noble cause to save?
The call that men will rally for,
May call them to their grave.
What drives them on against the ease,
That complacent life can bring.
Called pride, or honor, or duty more,
Their unyielding course they cling.
Cast lots your life a gamblers spin,
Cast lots your life no more.
That destined fate you think you’ll win,
Life as it was before.
Men search, a quest to win respect,
The young men hear the call.
All other needs will man reject,
But for respect he will give up all.
To a woman love will drive her on,
That need like air to breath.
But for man respect is life itself,
And may cost him his life to achieve.
[...] Read more
poem by Gary Bryson
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A Sonnet to the Wounded Warriors
I Once Was A Warrior
A Sonnet to the Wounded Warriors
I once was a warrior, but now today,
My battlefields are not so far away.
The foe that I face have no weapons of might,
Anxiety and worry are the enemy I fight.
I once was a soldier, but now I sit,
No longer in a body that’s lean and fit.
No greater cause, no more fields of glory,
The guns are now silent, no friends, no war stories.
I once was a sailor, but now I lay,
Trapped in my body in bed all day.
As I watch the new men go off to war,
I will never again sail to distant shores.
I once was an airman, the sky my domain,
But today just the memory is all that remains.
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poem by Gary Bryson
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