No more do I worship……
man made idols in the sky
God fearing is mere words 
Exorcised now are they that don’t exist…
Label how you feel 
It matters not…..
Religion to me if you call it such
My brothers…..
I am not worthy to receive you, 
but only say the word
I will be at your side with a full magazine
Venerated are those that fell
Glory be as you march
through the halls of Valhalla 
Its you I truly love
Once a year I drink at your alter
To the glorious dead.

© Tony McNally

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Crowded Plot

I don't feel at ease here,

Or at peace.

There are no fond memories -

Just an empty spot,

In a crowded plot -

No room for your soul to breathe.

Oh, what a distant memory -

A little girl at the foot of her papa,

The pitter patter of tiny feet -

Ready to jump,

Into the arms - 


Time has since faded -

That little girl is no longer.

A woman when you passed,

Yet a child still at heart.

Memories left -

Scattered -

And I'm left to wonder,

If you feel forgotten,

In this overgrown plot -

With pieces of you missing -


As is your sanctity.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written on 8/27/2014, in remembrance of my father. I sat at his head stone, where not ask of his ashes lay. And I felt as if he were suffocated. 

Scrapyard Confetti

I took a bullet in the heart
But I didn't know back then
Shell fragments penetrated my soul
I didn't feel a thing
We were the Heroes
The newspapers said
But I can now feel the bullet
And the ring ringing in my head
They are all still young men
Buried in frozen soil
Forever the real Heroes
Died for freedom
Not foreign oil
So I charge my glass
To drink for them all
We will meet again in Valhalla 
Hip Hip Hooray
For the glorious dead
Still walking this mortal coil. 

© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sometimes the survivors of War have the hardest battle of all.

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2013 Thru These Old Eyes

Thru These Old Eyes

Rob Boyte

December 8, 2013


Thru these old eyes

Looking at you

So young and fresh

I forget my own age.

Forget wrinkled loose skin

And thin grey hair.


Thru these old eyes

I see only your youth,

Your smooth supple skin

Over firm strong muscles

Thick hair on your head

And a hairless chest.

White teeth as your lips part

In a disarming smile

And the sparkle in your own

Young eyes.


Thru these old eyes

Looking at you

I see the beauty that was

And long to touch it anew.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Again, just feelings expressed as poetic prose, my being enamored of young men.

(The last stanza rhymed accidentally)

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Raise your glass

Raise your glass
Have a drink with me
To those comrades
Who fought and died with me
From the Bogside
To the angry Falklands sea
Raise your glass
Have a drink with me
For the fallen
I salute you
One more for the road
It would be rude not to
So raise your glass
Have a drink with me

© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mort pour la , For the dead.

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comfortably nestled in between two rocks 


above the stillness overlooking the small village


flattened black tar rooftops


steep cobblestone paved streets


winding around the southern tip of the mountain


a bicycle ride away


too far to touch the bitter memories


my gaze is locked into a numbing trance


time stands still



12:49 AM 7/6/2013 ©




Author's Notes/Comments: 



We were young men back then in 82

Frozen solid and soaked wet through

Outgunned outnumbered but stood solid and true

Prayed to God to see the morning dew

We buried or dead and shed a tear

Cracked a joke and drank some beer

Sailed back home held our family near

Felt immense pride as the whole country cheered

Its now 31 years since we hit the beach

We did our bit but we seldom preach

Remembering  our brothers a poppy for each

The class of 82



 © Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We will remember them.

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Forgetting in Remembrance


Forgetting in Remembrance
My name is Alice. Alice Walkins, and this is the story in which I learned from my own life.
I learned there is love, I learned there is pain, and I learned there is both sadness and strife.
I was so young to know much anything at all; to the rest of the world I was so small.
At the age of twenty one, I knew not much of how a life like mine would turn out at all.

I thought back to when I was the young age of seventeen.
I was neither very smart nor was I unintelligent; I was rather somewhere in between.
I was at a school dance, and I met a boy named David; he was a friend of a boy at our school.
He would come over and we would sit there for hours, talking by the pool.
It was great in those days; we didn’t have to worry about a thing.
We would sit there by the radio, and just softly sing.

Little did I know that by the age of 20 he would become my husband and that he would
stay with me through the years.
He stayed with me through each and every day; through all my hopes and fears.
We got married at a church just by my childhood house.
To me, he was my best friend, the love of my life, and my spouse.

Five months after the marriage, David was expecting to be a proud father to a young son.
Our son would be the star baseball and football player, but most importantly he would see
his dad as his number one.
My husband was so excited to have a son; I could not believe my eyes.
He seemed to care so much; it almost took me by surprise.
David supported me through my whole pregnancy;
We were both excited and I was filled with radiancy.
I made the motherly way of going to the doctor to see how I was coming along.
They didn’t seem to see anything drastically wrong.
Until that one day; when they saw a significant sign.
They looked at me with sorrow; but then acted like everything was fine.
They assured me that the test results may just be a mistake,
That what they saw on their computer was possibly a fake.

But one day David woke me up in the middle of the night.
He had this look in his eyes like everything, indeed, wasn’t all right.
I looked down beneath me at our navy blue polyester sheeted bed;
everything beneath me was the color of a deep dark red.
I covered my hand with my mouth; it felt like horror.
I was so let down on everything I had hoped for.
In my heart, I felt like I was so miserably dying inside.
Still, David helped out, held me and stayed by my side.
Through that week I was so sad; tears always filled my eyes.
I felt like everything around me was all a bunch of pointless lies.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my poor, innocent, lost baby boy.
Would he have had my eyes? His dad’s hair? We even considered the name Troy.
I wanted to blame myself; but friends from work and church helped me through it, bit by bit.
I will never forget my son, and still, on the counter we leave a small baseball mitt.
I promise I will be able to get stronger from this; to move on.
I also promise I will never forget my boy; for he was never really gone.

A few years from then, I turned the young age of twenty four.
My prayers had been answered like a knock on my door.
I was planning to have another baby; yes, of course, I was scared.
But I wanted to be a mother, because I had always cared.
One day I woke up, ready to go to the delivery room, ready to be a mother.
I knew this would be such a different experience to me; it was unlike any other.
Today I was going to have this beautiful new baby.
I planned it to be a boy named Trevor, and if it was a girl, Amy.
After about a little more than an hour, two babies were in my arms.
To them, they were far and safe from any harm.
I had twins; I successfully had one boy and one girl.
It was a miracle, this may sound gushy, but it made my heart a whirl.
I finally had children that David and I could care for, that I could love, that were all our own.
To me, this was one of the best feelings I had ever known.
A few days later, we decided to bring the twins home.
I knew we had to put up baby proof things before they learned to roam.
But all I had a problem with was that I couldn’t sleep at night.
The babies were up crying till outside it was light.
Through all my tiredness, I worked through it all.
Just a couple months later, they finally started to crawl.
They both each grew a full set of longer hair.
After awhile, they were finally able to go up and down the stairs.
Now they could speak words and talk.
They were finally able to walk.
Until that one day, when Trevor fell down the stairs after he decided to run.
That day he almost broke his neck, and let’s just say it wasn’t really fun.
As a mother, I was so scared for him and stressed out.
I was filled with fear and doubt,
Doubt that he wouldn’t get better.
Even so, I thanked the hospital in a letter.
His neck had so many stiches; I could’ve sworn he was in pain.
Both my kids looked at me like I was insane.
Trevor acted like everything was just fine.
So it took some time, but we finally got back in line.
Despite my kids’ constant injuries,
Nothing could stop me.
David and I were always there for them whenever they needed us.
When we helped them out, I stopped making a big fuss.
It makes me think; what would it be like if Troy were here.
I knew the day was coming near.
Soon enough, by the time they were ten; the twins asked if I ever wanted to have another kid before.
As usual, I asked them what they wanted to know for.
But I told them without any tears.
I learned so much through all these years.
I learned so much in just a few years of my life.
Most importantly, I learned I could make it through, no matter how much pain and strife.
We don’t forget the memory of it.
On the counter, still sits a small baseball mitt.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is not mine this is my friends and she to scared scared to post it. :D

The Children Of 9/11/2001

9/11 Poems

Some of them were too young
to remember what went on,
two and three years old
they just started the parent, child bond.

Others would remember that day
as they sat back and cried,
not growing up with their parent
for ten long years, they were denied.

Remembering those lost today
children's hearts, still torn in two,
looking at names engraved in stone
for the entire world to view.

Copyright Cynthia Jones

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written on the tenth anniversary.