Emily Dickinson Jr.

Friday, December 24, 2004
a christmas story
though i have been kind of a grinch this year, this story truly touched my heart, i have a cousin who was at war for quite a while, and i hope he, and all the other soliders out there know how greatful we are for them:

twas the night before christmas
he lived all alone
in a one bedroom house made of
plaster and stone

i had come down the chimney
with presents to give
and to see just who
in this home did live

i looked all about
a strange sight i did see
no tinsel, no presents
not even a tree

no stockings by mantel
just boots filled with sand
on the wall hung pictures
of far and distant lands

with medals and badges
awards of all kinds
a somber thought
came through my mind

for this house was different
it was dark and dreary
id found the home of a solider
once i could see clearly

the solider lay sleeping
silent, alone
curled up on the floor
in this one bedroom home

the face was so gentle
the room in such disorder
not how id pictured
a united states solider

was the the hero
of whom id just read
curled up on a poncho
the floor for a bed

i realized the families
that i saw this night
owed their lives to these soliders
who were willing to fight

soon round the world
the children would play
and grown ups would celebrate
i bright xmas day

they all enjoyed freedom
each month of the year
because of the soliders
like the one lieing here

i couldnt help wonder
how many lie alone
on a cold xmas eve
in a land far from home

the very thought
borught a tear to my eye
i dropped to my knees
and started to cry

the solider awakened
and i heard a rough voice
"santa dont cry
this life is my choice

i fight for freedom
i dont ask 4 more
my life is, my god
my country, my courps"

the solider rolled over
and drifted to sleep
i couldnt control it
i countinued to weep

i kept watch for hours
so silent, so still
and we both shivered
from the cold nights chill

i didnt want to leave
on that cold dark night
this gaurdian of honor
so willing to fight

then the solider rolled over
with a voice soft and pure
wispered "carry on santa
its xmas day, all is secure"

one look at my watch
and i knew he was right
"merry xmas my frnd,
and to all a good night"

this poem was written by a marine, the following is his request,
i think it is resonable:
please, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people you can, xmas will be coming soon, and some credit is due to our service men and woemen for our being able to celebrate these festivities. lets try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe, make people stop and think of our heros, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. please do your small part to plant this small seed

byline: ariel 10:51 AM | |

About the Author
My names Ariel, im a dancer and a writer, i idolize one of the weirdest poets in history, (partly why im so weird) Miss Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, wow that woman was a genious.... well ya, im not gonna lie to you, i dont think my poems are that great, theyre jus my rambelings about life, you know, but ya, tag me (my tag boards on the bottom of the colum on the right) and tell me wut you think, or dont, you know what ever floats ur boat.... o also, not all of these poems are mine, but most of em are, and if u want me to put one of ur poems in here, heck jus tell me and i will, ttfn

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My Favorite Poems and Quotes: Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial to creation, and the exponent of breath -Emily Dickinson WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village, Sauntered as soft away! 5 So unsuspected violets Within the fields lie low, Too late for striving fingers That passed, an hour ago. -Emily Dickinson I âM nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there âs a pair of usâdonât tell! They âd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! 5 How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! -Emily Dickinson hope is the thing with feathers, that pearches in the soul, and sings the tune, without the words, and never stops at all -Emily Dickinson i dwell in possibiliy -Emily Dickinson Before god we are all equally wise, and equally foolish -Albert Einstein success is counted sweetest by those who nearly succede -Emily Dickinson we turn not older with years, but newer every day -Emily Dickinson...................... **MY TAGGIES**