A Warrior’s Vow
My endeavor is
to walk
in amity with.
My fellow man.
I will strive to live
in harmony with all.
In peace as gentle
as a summer’s breeze.
My presence
is to instill that calm
not unlike the stillness.
Of sheltered waters.
To those who know fear
I shall be a shield.
They may walk safely
in my shadow.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Snowflakes
The cloud of winter
cloaking the sun.
Seems to amplify
an already loud quiet.
Noiselessly my footsteps fall
on the snow covered path.
As leisurely I stroll through
the hibernating forest.
Swirled to and fro
by a northern zephyr.
Graceful snowflakes
silently dance around me.
Pirouetting and floating
on their earth bound journey.
To join others that form
the deep carpet of white.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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GOD's Love
Have you ever seen a sample?
A sample of God’s love?
Have I, I would say I’m sure.
T’was a won’drous sight.
A lady of many years,
spied a child of hardly any.
Wandering older eyes,
Met wondering younger eyes.
Their eyes brightly shined,
as if captive stars.
In place of any words,
two smiles warmed the air.
This lady of many years,
with open arms beckoned.
Sans hesitation,
eagerly, the child reached out.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Her Hero
Like behemoths sunning themselves.
The shiny fire engines
sat before the cavelike doors
that led to their den.
As if pampering the giant beasts.
Firefighters wipe and polish
shining the apparatus.
Awaiting a frantic call for help.
In wide eyed wonder
maybe somewhat apprehensive.
She approached the engine house
clearly in distress.
Watching a crocodile tear
find its way down a rosy cheek.
With a smile the fireman asked.
“Hi can I help you? ”
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Charade
The ivory glow of the house lights dim
then come alive again.
A signal to the audience
their journey is about to begin.
The lights go down darkness prevails.
Subdued idle conversation ceases.
The anticipative silence broken
only by a muffled unintentional cough.
Closed ornate curtains shield the stage.
Concealing from the spectators
all clues to upcoming events.
A calculated pause focuses their attention.
As though on their own the curtains part.
Revealing the setting designed to weave
spectators from the humdrum of reality.
Into the mystical world of make believe.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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A Bond Built
In a valley
Midst purple hills
Far away far
from the noise of man.
Built of wood bondage.
Poles and bars
separate him
from once his freedom.
Round and round
in circles he ran.
First one way
rear and run the other.
Unbroken spirit
wild of eye.
A challenge flung
each time we met.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Specters Overcome
The pain of life ebbing,
coaxes forth vocal declarations.
Alien to one's true character,
as the mind ravaged by infirmity.
By specters, rationality over run.
At the tottering sense of logic, demons feed.
Control of all response ceded unwillingly,
to gargoyles and despots of vile intent.
Such display alien, to sane normalcy.
All without depressed disdain, suffer naught.
Lend your prayers with those of others
this malice, by warriors of virtue conquered.
Be it known to those who mourn.
Spirit warriors of the Supreme, stand ready.
With sword's flashing blades bared.
To escort stalwart legionnaire home.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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The Patriot
Lining the street an anxious throng.
Dads moms and younger kids.
At last the parade!
Stars and stripes and marching bands.
Everyone's spirits high.
Happily cheering waving
at every grand display.
As in perfect step each passes by.
Almost without notice
an older gentleman stands.
Sparkling eyes behind spectacles.
Leaning on his cane he watches.
The stirring music coaxes forth
a shadow of a smile a soft sigh.
The sigh hinting of memories
long ago burried forgotten not.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Field of Battle
I walked the field of battle,
eerie silence accompanied me.
The bitter odor of confrontation,
lingered mutely in the air.
I trod where warriors clashed.
Did my imagination soar, or.
Could I hear in the quiet,
sounds of dying souls?
Everywhere I stepped, I touched,
mute tokens of conflict.
Haunting evidence of siege.
I shuddered as the chill of fear caressed me.
On scorched earth a helmet laid.
What account might it cradle?
Who once had been its owner?
Had it been discarded, or orphaned?
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The Circle
From parent and child
to friend to child to parent.
I've grown and reflecting back.
The circle is clear to me.
As a child looking up to them.
Then eye to eye
with the coming of age.
Still I looked up to them.
Many the role my parents played
guiding my course through life.
Their status with me
changing as older I grew.
Entering the world of adults
leaving adolescence behind.
Friends confidants
and equals they became.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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