Eons Slave
I am the nomad on the crested wave
My journey no enchanted mystic dream
To those of you who would my fortune crave
I emit a silent primordial scream.
I am the hand that carved the pharaoh's stone
On pyramid that stood the test of time
And as you gaze with wonder pointed dome
The blood red crimson hue you see is mine
I am the galley slave bent to the oar
No buccaneer nor handsome pirate I
The silken lace you with such grace adorn
Cost many scar's and tears for me to cry
I am the painted face on totem pole
Who once rode tall and proud upon the land
A warrior's death was then my only goal
Not firewater's slave lain broken in the sand
I am the soldier in the jungle green
On Vietnams distant shores I fell
The medals on my coffin fairly gleam
As those I fought to free now at me yell
I am the faceless hero never known
The unknown soldier lost in mists of time
The cannon fodder whose light never shone
The throne you sit upon is rightly mine.
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 555 times
Written on 2005-12-07 at 21:55
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