John-Ward Leighton


we see our surroundings torn down around us
we hear the whispers and see the yellowing pictures
of places and the young faces that were us
our triumph, pride, and misery all to be forgotten, lost to history.

perhaps we have gone on too long
hanging around long after the fat lady has sung
our lordly coach or fate should have pulled us from the game
before all we knew was destroyed with so called progress as the end game.

this drizzly morn and another fighting poem is born
it appears the elderly poets have not heard the game ending horn
those of us who have lived to fight another day
to put things right and help our young comrades wounded in conflicts far away.

we were respectful in our requests
to political people who could care less
if they can’t see their way clear to do what is right
they should have never taught us how to fight.

we see them pissing away
our tax dollars on feckless conflicts far away
no monies for the wounded or the veterans so they say
the deficit, the deficit, is their new play.

and eighty three year old Betty sits in prison
her appeal denied by judges ill fitted to judge anything
but it isn’t over until its over
and the fat lady may have yet another song to sing.

because for every sort of bull shit political ism
be it communism, socialism, or rotting capitalism,
be warned, we will not go quietly into the night and become a mere

Photo ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton
Photo ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton
Photo ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton
Photo ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton

Inspired by the poem, “Living in the Dream Shadow of the Stone House” – ©Copyright December 4, 2010 by William H.A. Willbond MSM, CD