Lessons of Life

$12.95
by Evan W. Jones

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My name is Evan W. Jones the author of Rise from the Ashes. This book is a prelude from Rise from the Ashes, and you will read a mixture of poetry that I have written from my lessons of life. All of which are from military, law enforcement, relation to religion, family and love. LESSONS OF LIFE By Evan W. Jones AuthorHouse Copyright © 2013 Evan W. Jones All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4918-3174-8 CHAPTER 1      The Warrior     A life of solitude     Training for that day     Being the best of the best     With minor flaws     Living without fear     And fearing not even death,     Knowing death will come,     In time we will prevail without     Due caution,     Mist of battle our soul will raise victorious,     Knowing this life of solitude is meant for the free      I open     These eyes grow weak,     Strain to see thy door,     Trickle of light, dust filters in,     I open     Thy foot walks cautious,     To feel light warmth thee life,     I open     Thy chains rustic,     Smelt of freedom     Wounds of captivity     Sour thy light     I open     Reaching, knees weak     Prayers answered     Hunger thy breathe,     Finally, we are not forgotten     To some have been     POW/MIA      Live or Die     Live to the fullest     Standing on the edge     Never to second guess my enemy     Train for extremes     Living that day,     By countless moments     Walking deaths rail,     Live or die     Example to live by     Knowing one self, better for     Enemies to guess     Train your mind, never give up     Live to the fullest,     Smile at deaths door.      Damn Few     They are elite     Hardest trials to become one,     They give all     Small fighting force     Covering the globe,     Frogmen they are called     Warriors of the sea     Code of honor     Humble they may be     The damn few     Code of ethics they live     Brother for brother     They are the best of the best     Damn few      Darkness     We sit here waiting     Staring into darkness     Waiting for the sound     Sky lights as 4th of July     Focusing on shadows,     Target,     Running for cover     Shot rings out     He falls,     Darkness     We sit here waiting.      Mile     I walk the miles,     Seen shore lines     Experiences of gold     Smelt death in many ways     Held many dying breaths     Looked upon countless reminders     Scars and tatts' remind why,     I had to do it     Take the souls of others     By these hands     What reminds     I breathe the air as I take your last     I walk the miles, though you can't      I pray     Close my eyes     Pray thy lord my soul     Sounds of battle rage     Escape my vast,     Nightmares begin of terror     Night engulf of sweat     Grasps the air,     Fallen to unmark grave     Thom of hero's     Never return     Pray thy lord, take away     Pain a waits,     I awake in hell.      Welcome Home     The bagpipes play     A flag draped     Twelve men stand lean,     As people stand in line,     That never knew the brave soul     A hero, home finally     Ashes to ashes, dust to dust     Tears of sorrow     This brave man fell     Shots ring out, taps played     His pain rested     Children salute, as his coffin passes     Welcome home son     Stand at ease      Homeless     Weather is cold and harsh     I pull this holey blanket near,     Eat my last can of food     My clothes smell of 30 day stench,     This bottle is dry     40 gallon burns off in the night,     I sleep with one eye open     To watch thieves of the night,     I wonder if I still awake.     I once protected this land     Now I beg for a dollar.     To homeless vets      The Battle     Wars are fought throughout time,     The battle never ends there,     For those that know     By scars on the outside,     To the ones that are hidden,     We fought to bleed for freedom     The freedom that has no time for vets     We lose so many to images     That haunts us daily,     Guilt, rage, and the unknown     By this in ones eye fighting with nightmares,     Others will never understand     We fought the wars     For our brothers     Coming home is the beginning for us.     PTSD     Never forget the sacrifice of those who fought for it.      Pray     My knees are worn     Tears have dried     Some answered     Some ignored,     Are they really answered?     Pamphlets handed out     For a higher power,     Pray harder, you will be     Answered they say,     My eyes grow weary     To the ones that do others wrong,     As they are blessed,     I faultier by disappointment     But I still pray,     May we be answered?      Faith     What is faith?     Is it a spirit?     Is it making believe?     Is it what we need to live?     To grow, for energy, to fantasize for     Could it be a metaphor?     Faith is

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