Now I don't know about you, but when I think or hear anything dealing with the Civil War; I only remember the major battles, not this one here:
BRAVE ACTS OF THE CIVIL WAR
This is a story of the War between the States,
Some were lads, and some were mates.
The story is one we never hear,
We thought it far, but it was so near.
"It was a fort we needed to defend,
The victory was ours at the end.
In the sea, no boat was in sight,
Even within the moonless night.
Our fort was built in the doons of sand,
As the Yanks were coming, they'd land in our hand.
Fire we did when they came over the hill,
Rounds went off till I thought I was ill.
First came the blacks,
Charging bravely in their navy blue slacks.
After them came the rest,
To continue stirring up the nest.
As soon as it started, it was over,
We didn't think it would be so, never.
But what did my commander say,
It was clear, and plain as day.
`Build them a bench,
Build them a ditch.
Throw the bodies in the open trench,
Then move down wind from the stench.' "
So as we think of bravery,
There aren't few, there are many.
Battles are lost, battles are won,
Depends whose side your on.
It's not rescuing men, women from slavery,
It's not having news from the enemy.
It's not only a just,
It's a must.
It is bravery,
It is one of the many.
Many brave acts,
Brave acts of the Civil War.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The morning of December 7, 1941
We all know the story of Pearl Harbor, but do we know it from a vessel's point of view?
PEARL HARBOR
When we hear of the harbor clear,
The story of her history, we seldom hear.
One way out, one way in,
There was more than a hundred and fifty men.
Warnings and notes, they didn't heed,
For them they thought they didn't need.
But in they came, Japan it was,
When it ended the word was ha's.
As they did, planes were bombed,
Fires were then great alarm.
"Tora, Tora, Tora" went the cry,
For they were as far as the Eastern sky.
We still remember that historical day,
In a more horrible, terror way.
As every man killed had a name,
America has never been the same.
Now all the great ships are gone,
Her whole story is never done.
Arizona has her part to tell,
Even under the harbor, she has to yell.
"Fight fight for your country now,
We have lost our mighty wow.
I will never sail to sea again,
That one way out, one way in."
That morning all was clear,
Not a plane was in the air.
As we watched from the tower,
Bombs were dropped like a shower.
One way out, one way in,
Remember the hundred and fifty men.
Remember Oklahoma, remember Arizona,
Remember, remember, remember Pearl Harbor.
PEARL HARBOR
When we hear of the harbor clear,
The story of her history, we seldom hear.
One way out, one way in,
There was more than a hundred and fifty men.
Warnings and notes, they didn't heed,
For them they thought they didn't need.
But in they came, Japan it was,
When it ended the word was ha's.
As they did, planes were bombed,
Fires were then great alarm.
"Tora, Tora, Tora" went the cry,
For they were as far as the Eastern sky.
We still remember that historical day,
In a more horrible, terror way.
As every man killed had a name,
America has never been the same.
Now all the great ships are gone,
Her whole story is never done.
Arizona has her part to tell,
Even under the harbor, she has to yell.
"Fight fight for your country now,
We have lost our mighty wow.
I will never sail to sea again,
That one way out, one way in."
That morning all was clear,
Not a plane was in the air.
As we watched from the tower,
Bombs were dropped like a shower.
One way out, one way in,
Remember the hundred and fifty men.
Remember Oklahoma, remember Arizona,
Remember, remember, remember Pearl Harbor.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
School Days, school, days, dear old golden rule days...
I think that this poem we all can relate to in our lives. It is:
THE TEST
Students are pawns
As lines are drawn
Who will win?
Who will fail?
Chairs have shifted
Paper is placed
Now is the time when grace is erased
From somewhere you hear a "Now"
As paper the sound of dried leaves truned around
Hurriedly the pencil is running,
Scribbling, hurrying
Your mind is going "hurry, scurry, I cannot stop,
I have to reach the top"
"But push I cannot stay
For questions blow the mind away"
Now it's over, everything's done,
That was easy, that was fun
Get one wrong, I did not
Never am I in that spot
THE TEST
Students are pawns
As lines are drawn
Who will win?
Who will fail?
Chairs have shifted
Paper is placed
Now is the time when grace is erased
From somewhere you hear a "Now"
As paper the sound of dried leaves truned around
Hurriedly the pencil is running,
Scribbling, hurrying
Your mind is going "hurry, scurry, I cannot stop,
I have to reach the top"
"But push I cannot stay
For questions blow the mind away"
Now it's over, everything's done,
That was easy, that was fun
Get one wrong, I did not
Never am I in that spot
Christmas 2010
I wrote this poem last year when I had the realization that Jesus came here once: Once to die, once to live, once to preach/teach, and he's coming back once. My hope is that when you read the following, you see the same thing.
ONCE ONLY ONCE
Once there was a child,
So mighty, yet so mild.
Who left his Father willingly,
To bring one to a family.
When He left His mansion holy,
He came to a city lowly.
Was laid in a manger filthy,
To save a world humbly.
His mother no man she knew,
His father was the only one to know.
But yet, he said "no"
"I've decided to keep this family new"
From the manger filthy,
To the cross in the city holy.
He showed us how to follow,
Follow his Father faithfully.
Once there was a child,
So meek, yet so mild.
Journeyed on to Bethlehem,
Right outside Jerusalem.
Going on a donkey that day,
Didn't know He would come back that way.
Leaving with Joe to Nazaree,
She was fulfilling prophecy.
"For out of Egypt have I called My Son,"
And "He will be a Nazarene."
Once there was a child holy,
Once there was a virgin Mary.
Once there was a carpenter Joe,
Who knew after he said "no"
That this child was here once.
Once.
Once to be born,
Once to be taught.
Once to be child,
Once to die.
Once to preach,
Once to teach.
Once to come back,
Once He was born.
Once He was a child,
Once He was a man.
Once He lived,
Once He died.
He did this all Once,
But we celebrated it more.
We do his birth,
We do his death.
We celebrate His name, Jesus.
He did it once,
Once, only once
ONCE ONLY ONCE
Once there was a child,
So mighty, yet so mild.
Who left his Father willingly,
To bring one to a family.
When He left His mansion holy,
He came to a city lowly.
Was laid in a manger filthy,
To save a world humbly.
His mother no man she knew,
His father was the only one to know.
But yet, he said "no"
"I've decided to keep this family new"
From the manger filthy,
To the cross in the city holy.
He showed us how to follow,
Follow his Father faithfully.
Once there was a child,
So meek, yet so mild.
Journeyed on to Bethlehem,
Right outside Jerusalem.
Going on a donkey that day,
Didn't know He would come back that way.
Leaving with Joe to Nazaree,
She was fulfilling prophecy.
"For out of Egypt have I called My Son,"
And "He will be a Nazarene."
Once there was a child holy,
Once there was a virgin Mary.
Once there was a carpenter Joe,
Who knew after he said "no"
That this child was here once.
Once.
Once to be born,
Once to be taught.
Once to be child,
Once to die.
Once to preach,
Once to teach.
Once to come back,
Once He was born.
Once He was a child,
Once He was a man.
Once He lived,
Once He died.
He did this all Once,
But we celebrated it more.
We do his birth,
We do his death.
We celebrate His name, Jesus.
He did it once,
Once, only once
Friday, October 7, 2011
07/04/1776
One day I was thinking: What if one of our fore fathers sort of time traveled and saw America today, what would happen? Would they protest about what is going on today? Well this poem answered those questions and many more that I had.
OUR FATHER'S VOICE
Seasons come, seasons go,
America's grown, that we know.
But she's forgotten
Forgotten our past
The past we need to remember.
Our past there is `92,
When Chris sailed the ocean blue.
The Pilgrims who landed on Plymouth Rock,
For them it was a shock.
Since they survived the winter `20,
We now have a feast of plenty.
As they singed the Mayflower Compact,
They only knew it wasn't a contract.
Now we jump a hundred and fifty years,
England's oppression only nears.
As we find in the `70's,
Old towns are now new cities.
King George kept his power and might,
And he wouldn't leave without a fight.
But what would happen?
What if one of our father's jumped?
Jumped that thing called death,
Traveled in that place as time.
Saw America today,
What would they do?
What would they say?
They would likely say:
For you we lived
For you we died
For you we breathed
For you we cried
For you we up adn grew
For you we fired and flew
For you we were hunted
For you the spy Hale was hung
For you he bled "I regret"
For you Franklin said, "Together or die"
For you we joined to tie.
For you Paul rode,
Rode to tell town, village and farm,
To tell men up and arm.
For you we said no more,
No tax, no king, we're on our own.
For you Lexington saw a war,
The day that the Green turned red.
Red with blood,
For you Jeff wrote,
Wrote for you till he could no more.
But why do you choose to ignore?
Ignore our cry, our pleas, our wants,
Ignore the two great documents.
We didn't write them as a Decoration,
But a Declaration.
We didn't write them as a Contradiction,
But a Constitution.
So as I go, will you remember?
Will you choose to tell your friends,
Your family, your neighbor?
Tell them about what we did so long ago.
How we fired and fled,
How the grass turned red.
How we did it in the face of death,
When we knew it would mean our last breath.
So let me tell you to tell near and far,
Tell one and all.
I wasn't for us what we did that day,
It was for you,
For you we signed.
OUR FATHER'S VOICE
Seasons come, seasons go,
America's grown, that we know.
But she's forgotten
Forgotten our past
The past we need to remember.
Our past there is `92,
When Chris sailed the ocean blue.
The Pilgrims who landed on Plymouth Rock,
For them it was a shock.
Since they survived the winter `20,
We now have a feast of plenty.
As they singed the Mayflower Compact,
They only knew it wasn't a contract.
Now we jump a hundred and fifty years,
England's oppression only nears.
As we find in the `70's,
Old towns are now new cities.
King George kept his power and might,
And he wouldn't leave without a fight.
But what would happen?
What if one of our father's jumped?
Jumped that thing called death,
Traveled in that place as time.
Saw America today,
What would they do?
What would they say?
They would likely say:
For you we lived
For you we died
For you we breathed
For you we cried
For you we up adn grew
For you we fired and flew
For you we were hunted
For you the spy Hale was hung
For you he bled "I regret"
For you Franklin said, "Together or die"
For you we joined to tie.
For you Paul rode,
Rode to tell town, village and farm,
To tell men up and arm.
For you we said no more,
No tax, no king, we're on our own.
For you Lexington saw a war,
The day that the Green turned red.
Red with blood,
For you Jeff wrote,
Wrote for you till he could no more.
But why do you choose to ignore?
Ignore our cry, our pleas, our wants,
Ignore the two great documents.
We didn't write them as a Decoration,
But a Declaration.
We didn't write them as a Contradiction,
But a Constitution.
So as I go, will you remember?
Will you choose to tell your friends,
Your family, your neighbor?
Tell them about what we did so long ago.
How we fired and fled,
How the grass turned red.
How we did it in the face of death,
When we knew it would mean our last breath.
So let me tell you to tell near and far,
Tell one and all.
I wasn't for us what we did that day,
It was for you,
For you we signed.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Black History
For history one year, I studied about the Civil War and slavery, after I had finished a book report project, this poem is what came out of it.
HISTORY LESSONS
We have heard the voices of the past,
We have read about their cries,
They have taught us lessons,
About life, about love, about brothers,
If you were in the shoes of the past,
What would you want someone do for you?
Speak up, be your voice?
If so, why aren't you?
HISTORY LESSONS
We have heard the voices of the past,
We have read about their cries,
They have taught us lessons,
About life, about love, about brothers,
If you were in the shoes of the past,
What would you want someone do for you?
Speak up, be your voice?
If so, why aren't you?
Thursday, September 29, 2011
May 2010
Usually when I go to write poems, I don't write them because I was inspired. I usually write them from my heart. Well, the following was inspired by a bouquet of red roses. Dried red roses.
THE UNWANTED GIFT
I am a voice that sings.
I am a mouth that speaks.
I am an eye that sees.
I am a hand that can touch.
I am a foot that can walk.
I am a heart that beats.
I am a life waiting to have wings.
I am a rose wanting to bloom.
From conception in the womb.
I am a musician, doctor, lawyer.
I am a mother, father, husband, wife.
I am a teacher, preacher, reformer, writer.
I am a Washington, Lincoln, Pitt, Wilberforce.
I am a daughter, son, neice, nephew.
I am an uncle, aunt, cousin.
I am the bearer of five generations.
But where are those generations?
They are killed, for so was I.
I was unplanned, unneeded, undesired.
Though I was innocent, I was given the criminal's death.
I am dead, before I am life.
My mother is haunted because of my death.
She'll never experience the gift I could've been.
I am peace.
I am joy.
I am love.
I am a child.
I am a human.
I am someone who can feel.
I am the unwanted gift.
THE UNWANTED GIFT
I am a voice that sings.
I am a mouth that speaks.
I am an eye that sees.
I am a hand that can touch.
I am a foot that can walk.
I am a heart that beats.
I am a life waiting to have wings.
I am a rose wanting to bloom.
From conception in the womb.
I am a musician, doctor, lawyer.
I am a mother, father, husband, wife.
I am a teacher, preacher, reformer, writer.
I am a Washington, Lincoln, Pitt, Wilberforce.
I am a daughter, son, neice, nephew.
I am an uncle, aunt, cousin.
I am the bearer of five generations.
But where are those generations?
They are killed, for so was I.
I was unplanned, unneeded, undesired.
Though I was innocent, I was given the criminal's death.
I am dead, before I am life.
My mother is haunted because of my death.
She'll never experience the gift I could've been.
I am peace.
I am joy.
I am love.
I am a child.
I am a human.
I am someone who can feel.
I am the unwanted gift.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The early years
These are some of my early poems that I wrote when I was at least ten years old:
HEAVEN
Is it bright of dark?
Heaven
Is it long or short?
Heaven
Is there a dock or a port?
Heaven
Hear all the angles sing
Heaven
For it is a mansion
Heaven
Oh! how life yould end
Heaven
No, I haven't turned out yet~
On earth~
Heaven
Oh death, where is thy sting?
Oh grave, where is thy victory?
Father take me home soon~
Heaven
Jesus, Jesus who I love~
Heaven
Oh how I ran out of words
All but one~
Heaven
SOMETHING THAT I DIDN'T KNOW
Like a sick alligator so that I am,
A sinner, cursed like the weeds of the ground.
Something that I hated was the man that created me.
But what's this I hear my parents say:
Abba, Father, Jesus Christ, Heaven,
These are words I knew and did not heed.
Now I know,
I now know something that I didn't know.
HEAVEN
Is it bright of dark?
Heaven
Is it long or short?
Heaven
Is there a dock or a port?
Heaven
Hear all the angles sing
Heaven
For it is a mansion
Heaven
Oh! how life yould end
Heaven
No, I haven't turned out yet~
On earth~
Heaven
Oh death, where is thy sting?
Oh grave, where is thy victory?
Father take me home soon~
Heaven
Jesus, Jesus who I love~
Heaven
Oh how I ran out of words
All but one~
Heaven
SOMETHING THAT I DIDN'T KNOW
Like a sick alligator so that I am,
A sinner, cursed like the weeds of the ground.
Something that I hated was the man that created me.
But what's this I hear my parents say:
Abba, Father, Jesus Christ, Heaven,
These are words I knew and did not heed.
Now I know,
I now know something that I didn't know.
Monday, September 26, 2011
How it all started
Hi
I'm Natalie Julson and yes, I am autistic. I also write poems as one of my past time hobbies.
This all started, when my mom had suggested that I publish them on a blog. So, in short, that is how this blog started. Just a simple idea, that I decided to launch on. Hope you enjoy.
I'm Natalie Julson and yes, I am autistic. I also write poems as one of my past time hobbies.
This all started, when my mom had suggested that I publish them on a blog. So, in short, that is how this blog started. Just a simple idea, that I decided to launch on. Hope you enjoy.
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