War veteran with a glass in his pocket he drank on the job every day, two cups of vodka.
….first glass – at 10 o’clock.Second one – in 16 hours
…how he achieved such high production successes?
…he brought up on fresh milk… 14 years, my future war party went to work at the distillery.
That’s what it means to education – from milk directly to alcohol!

The poem is of a person in search of who they are.

This poem I created about a year ago, and lots of people said I should show it to more people. So I’ve decided to post it here! enjoy!

An unmistakable sign in the sky, an angel blowing a trumpet.

A Haiku poem by WhiteMarion.

Troops Marching.

A military funeral.

A poem written by a high school trumpet player on 9/11.

A moment of reckoning.

While captured Skye see a vision about her brother.