Charles J. Ingerson

THE PAST

… let it be said
let it be written
history is not dead
only been smitten.

the past is there
for all to see
only not so fair
for slaves not free.

shadows linger
with the passing
of the moon’s finger
winds and seas lashing.

greatness desired
at what cost
lives required
to be lost.

then to enter
the realm hidden
of the pretender
unbidden.

the past does call
days to remember
linking wars to all
January to December.

(Prelude:

Sixty years
how many tears
how many fears
memory clears
history seers.

Seeking the past
lingering to last
the future contrast
our lives cast
history’s repast.

Thus is found
without a sound
wars to surround
sorrow to abound
on history’s ground.)

One War

More or less
floundering
in history
is it one war
of several
maybe many
all linked
some thread
invisible to see
being blind
without feeling.

Seething anger
seeking revenge
lost in fears
or malignancy
finds one left
to carry forth
conspiracies
fondled before
never to die
till one war
more or less.

One Thousand Years

Not so long ago
in spatial glance
was war to glow
1066 or a chance
did I remember
war’s rebuke
warriors dismember
power mistook.

Was this all
did peace grow
do any recall
doves to show
or just a mistake
history’s marking
death’s wake
hatred sparking?

Ever found peace
intervening years
gunfire to cease
one thousand tears
or do they link
one to another
steel to clink
brother versus brother?

Two Thousand Years

Hordes of Romans
conquering all
slaughtering humans
the emperor’s call.

Yet hate stronger
found internal
so much longer
a potent vile.

Rome observed
with Civil Law
taxes preserved
cities to fall.

They kill themselves
we need not
religion repels
truths forgot.

Two thousand tears
asking for relief
crucifying fears
or one’s belief.

Three Thousand Years

Can I retreat forever
into the looking glass
is someone more clever
allowing war to pass?

Or was there still
hatred or boredom
Greeks to now kill
or deny a freedom?

Persians or another
does it matter much
when dies a brother
from a sword’s touch?

Three thousand tears
immune from fate
seeking only cheers
burning in hate.

Four Thousand Years

Challenging the heavens
building of towers
seeking to be great
yielding no powers.

Ah, the wonder of all
wanting to be immoral
adorations the call
only to find sorrow.

Continue back further
or come ahead a bit
it is still but murder
a slave to hit.

Four thousand tears
found in the past
history simply jeers
wars still last.

(Epilogue:

Do I ramble much
when remembering
war ugly touch
history dismembering?

Can I find of peace
where there is none
only fiction’s release
or a mystery’s fun?

Chide not with truth
one to one to one
continued from youth
one to one to one.

Feeble the excuse
we find to fight
when none refuse
ever to take flight.

Gathering shrouds
stockpiles of hate
as thunders clouds
wars first estate.

Seek not to reprove
only dare to but think
the location to move
with wars to link.

The past me teaches
wherein I must learn
to the future reaches
truths to discern.

Mingled are the times
when we at home love
happiness defines
the sun from above.

Yet wherein we read
James 1:27 to heed
lest we astray lead
and no one feed.

Acknowledging of war
one to one to one
is not a movie score
simply one to be won.)