What does Memorial Day mean to you and Me
It’s a Sacred day to honor all who died to keep us free
It's a day to remember a relative or friend
Who gave his all to the very end
It's Our Freedoms and Liberties we owe to them all
Because they heard that Great Gallant Call
Freedoms that we hold so dear are not so Free
It is Paid for by the Blood shed for you and me
Greater Love hath no man than to give his life for another
That’s the Ultimate Sacrifice, that can be made by a Brother
MarkWaldrop
Good morning, echoes through the dawn's first light,
A tale of valor, sorrow, and might.
In nineteen-oh-seven, a boy was born,
To a widow whose heart was torn.
His father, taken by a brother’s hand,
Left a young widow in a desolate land.
He grew up fast, a child no more,
Dropped out in fifth grade to work, to toil, and bore.
Four brothers looked up to his guiding hand,
In the logging woods, he made his stand.
Married young, and children came,
Seven in total, three angels to name.
In forty-four, when the world was ablaze,
A month-old baby, he’d have to leave in a haze.
From Harlan County to Normandy’s shore,
This Kentucky boy faced the horrors of war.
Men fell like rain on that blood-soaked beach,
One young soldier’s sanity just out of reach.
“No need for a gun,” he cried out loud,
As chaos raged and death's shadow shrouded.
Liberation brought tears to his weary eyes,
Death camps unveiled humanity’s demise.
In a foxhole, with a testament lost,
He crawled through the night, in the cold and frost.
Hands bleeding, searching for hope,
Found a Bible, bloodied, a way to cope.
Twice wounded, he persevered,
Shook Patton’s hand, a memory revered.
Post-war missions with Lt. Schaefer’s call,
Hunting war criminals, he gave his all.
Came home broken, inside and out,
Shell shock, treatments, a mind full of doubt.
Twenty-five years, he battled unseen foes,
A hero in shadows, the pain only grows.
No bridges or highways bear his name,
But his sacrifice remains, forever aflame.
A military family, devoted and true,
To God and country, their hearts they imbue.
When flags are trampled, in anger and pain,
Remembering the fallen, tears fall like rain.
As taps play softly, a tribute to the brave,
For your dad, your husband, the memories you save.
In their honor, with pride, you stand tall,
Heroes remembered, one and all.
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Taken from a story on Facebook “Journey of a Mountain Woman”
Oh, to return to days gone by, when Pap would stride along,
Up the railroad, his purpose clear, in his heart a humble song.
He marked his vote upon the Republican slate, yet at home, peace did dwell,
For mother was a staunch Democrat, but love rang the dinner bell.
May 1, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Taken from the story:
Old one Quilt Pieces
Shirley Noe Swiesz
Wars rage not just on battlefields grim and stark, But in the shadowed corners of every weary heart. Victory claimed by fire and steel’s cold bite, Leaves only ashes, remnants of spite.
True conquest lies not in the silenced scream, Nor in the landscapes of some tyrant’s dream. For every city razed, every mother’s tear, Sows the bitter seeds of another war near.
The mightiest force wields no weapon or shield, But the quiet strength in the human field, Where compassion roots deeper than old enmities, Where understanding breaks chains, sets spirits free.
True peace blossoms through the heart’s own door, A tranquil harbor from the inner war. When hearts are mended, so too are nations’ ties,In the soft, hushing whispers of reconciled cries.
From the heart’s peace, there springs a well so clear, That those who drink may never again fear. For only when the heart’s war ceases to rage, Will peace truly ink history’s next page.
Let us march not to the drums of war, but to the song of peace, Where every note played is a promise to cease. With each heart that chooses the path of calm delight, We find the dawn of love and end the long, dark night.
April 13, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In a corner of the world, under a window so bright, Amanda R. Waldrop shares a tale of delight. Mark, with a thought so tender and able, Gifted a squirrel picnic table. Perched outside the window of her home office view, A scene unfolds, fresh as morning dew. Where nature's little jesters, in their playful spree, Feast upon their table, in pure glee. Molly, the kitty, with eyes wide and keen, Watches the squirrels, in a world serene. Together they sit, day by day, In silent camaraderie, in their own special way. Amanda, with Molly, finds joy so profound, In the simple pleasures that abound. A squirrel picnic table, a window, a sight, Turns ordinary moments into pure delight. So here's to the small things that make life sweet, To moments of peace, our hearts' retreat. For in the story of Amanda, Mark, and Molly's grace, Lies a reminder of the beauty in our space. March 17, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop “Grandpa”
In lands so vast, beneath skies so wide, Where dreams awaken and freedoms reside. "God Bless America," we humbly plead, In every whisper, in every deed. American souls, so brave, so bold, Crafting futures from the mold. Blessed by God, on this path we trod, Seeking justice, under His watchful nod. From mountains majestic to oceans deep, Across the plains, where the wheat fields sweep. God's grace upon this land does shower, Gifting strength, resilience, and power. American spirit, fierce and free, A beacon of hope, for all to see. Blessed be God, in His glory and might, Guiding us through, day and night. "American Bless God," with grateful hearts, For liberty and peace, in all our parts. Together we stand, united, strong, In God's grace, where we all belong. May this land, under God's divine, Forever in freedom and unity shine. Bless America, land so grand, Held and cherished, in His loving hand. Created by MarkWaldrop
In the tapestry of time, my age is but a thread, Woven into patterns, where my thoughts and dreams are spread. Not the count of years, nor the lines upon my skin, But the age of my ideas, where youth and wisdom begin. For thoughts can be as ancient as the oldest star in night, Or fresh as morning dew under the newborn light. They dance between the epochs, in whispers and in roars, Journeying through the ages, opening countless doors. In my mind, I've walked with Plato, under Athens' sunlit skies, And pondered with the poets, where the heart of passion lies. I've dreamed of future worlds, where peace and love prevail, And innovation's sails are set, with hope as the wind to sail. It's not the years that weigh me down, or the pace at which they go, But the freshness of my thoughts, that keeps my spirit aglow. For as long as curiosity's fire burns bright and clear, I am ageless, boundless, far beyond a mere year. So let the calendar mark time, in its relentless, steady trot, I measure life by the vibrance of the thoughts that I have got. For it's not how old I am, in the years that I've accrued, But the age of my thoughts, in their multitude. March 8, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop
In skies above, on Memorial Day's light, I served the aisles, a flight attendant's plight. The first row held a passenger, a sight so rare, Beside him, a dog with a valorous air. Corporal Kiddy, her name, a Marine so bold, Twelve years of service, her story untold. With fur not adorned in medals or lace, But with honor and courage, she held her place. Retirement beckoned, her duty now done, A life of battles, now set to the sun. I seized the moment, a tribute to cast, For her years of service, vast. The cabin listened, as I spoke of her deed, An announcement for a hero, indeed. Applause thundered, a sound so profound, For Corporal Kiddy, respect was bound. At the sound, she leaped, a lap to find, Accepting homage from those so kind. Not just a dog, but a Marine so grand, On her final flight, to retirement land. A tale of loyalty, courage, and might, Of Corporal Kiddy, on that Memorial flight. A flight attendant's story, of a day so bright, When honor and applause took to the night. February 18, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop
In the jungles deep and wide, Where mysteries and dangers hide, A tiny soul was found inside A foxhole, where she did abide. Smoky, of the Yorkshire breed, Tiny, but mighty in deed. In World War II, a friend in need, A soldier's companion, lead by creed. For $6.44, a bond was sold, Between a Corporal brave and bold, And Smoky, whose story would unfold, In battles fierce and nights so cold. She lived a life of soldier's fare, Shared meals, and slept in Wynne's care. No official badge did she wear, Yet her courage was beyond compare. Twelve missions high, in backpack stowed, Above the clouds, her spirit glowed. 150 air raids, the danger sowed, Yet by her side, safety flowed. She warned of shells, a guardian light, In darkest hours, a beacon bright. Her heart, her spirit, fierce in fight, Guiding through the perilous night. A performer too, with tricks to show, Entertaining troops, a morale bow. In hospitals, her presence would glow, Healing hearts, with her spirited flow. Back to the U.S., hidden away, In an oxygen mask, she made her stay. Her legacy, in hearts, would sway, Entertaining, healing, every day. For ten more years, she gave her love, To veterans, with a grace from above. Her life, a testament, to the power of The smallest being, with the heart of a dove. Smoky, the first Therapy Dog, named, In history, her legacy framed. A tiny warrior, fiercely acclaimed, Her spirit, forever untamed. So remember the dog who braved the fight, With soldiers, through the darkest night. Her courage, love, and shining light, A beacon of hope, forever bright. February 16, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop
In unity's embrace, we boldly stand, A creed that shapes both heart and land. Divided, we falter, together, we soar, A timeless truth from ancient lore. Not for self, but for all, we give, In service's call, we truly live. "What can I do?" not "What I receive," A mantra for all who believe. As Jesus for us, His life did pay, A debt of love we can never repay. Yet in His steps, we can proceed, To serve, to love, to plant the seed. Love, the adhesive for every split seam, Holding together life's complex dream. Without its bond, we drift apart, But with it, we mend every heart. The change we seek in the world around, Within our own hearts, must be found. Starting with me, a ripple in the pond, Echoing out to the bonds beyond. Not by the saber is true war won, But by love's power, shining as the sun. Where love abounds, conflict ceases to be, In its warm embrace, we are truly free. So let us walk in love's unending light, Turning every wrong to right. In every action, let love be our war, For where there is love, there is no war. February 3, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop