Golden Eagle

In the bottom of an old greasy swamp, lies a golden eagle, it's shine now covered in grime.
It lies here, forgotten witness of the brave few who dare to venture where none ever do.
This golden eagle, doth many scars bear, tis many grooves where swords did tear.
Came they from a terrible fight, on a cold blustery day, where the hope of an army was blown away.
Hundreds of weary hungry men, tramping through unfamiliar ground, when in the midst of an ambush they were found.
These weary men, they were tired and cold. They raised the swords, though outnumbered, they were bold.
As the barbarians tore through their withering lines, and as their screaming comrades were consumed by fire,
They gripped the swords, and bid their families farewell, stood back to back, as the enemy did into their columns hack.
In the midst of this carnage, floated the golden eagle, symbol of their hope, their integrity, dream, and goal.
Round the eagle, they now stood, desperately outnumbered by an enemy their distant commanders had misunderstood.
They gave no quarter, expected none. Rallied round that golden eagle, and held together as one.
That eagle, it witnessed the havoc that they made as the enemy in cascades came.
It saw their courage in the face of death. The things they gave when they had nothing left.
It saw the lions rise from their sleep, the final blaze of glory, the heroics that make us weep.
Though all hope was lost, they still fought on like it was there, the golden eagle the focus of their care.
Till finally, the last man had fallen. With his last breath threw the man the eagle into the water.
Never would it fall into enemy hands, it would be the silent witness of these fallen men.
Though defeated, yet they fought on. Though hope was gone, still they fought on and on.
Their dream they never let die, heros they died, heroes for which the people would cry.
Golden eagle, doesn't alway mean victory. But the golden eagle, will never give in.

poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Leave Them Behind

Weary, torn, shattered man
Bare feet upon burning sand
Broken shards in his hand

Oh thou sad forlorn soldier
What doth make thee falter
For thou could be a great warrior

What hast it's tenacious hold on thee
Dragging thee into the abyss
Where found, thou wilt never be

What is it that has torn thee so
That now tortured you go
And walk in the mire below

Are those shards you hold
So precious and old
That thou must treat them like gold?
they once were something beautiful

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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I'll Be a Wall

Watching you stand next to me, your little hands clutch my fingers as you say,
Piggy back, give me a piggy back. Really, I just can't resist a request said like that.

Pick you up, place you on my shoulders, carry you through the bush, over boulders.
Hear you squeal as the branches fall in your face, clap your hands, urge me to pick up the pace.

Watching you stand next to me, a little man. Your hand ain't even half my hand.
You challenge me to wrestle, we fight and tussle, finally you emerge on top, victor of the battle.

Lying here on my belly, you the conqueror, smiling to myself, as you chant like a little warrior.
So little and small in the big picture, so innocent. You're so happy, yet so dependent.

If ever those giants come to fight, if ever the dragons breath their fire, or the monsters at night,
I'll be there, by your side. Here you're sitting on top, the victor, but i'll be ready come any danger.

I'll be a shield, a bear, wall, when the stones fly, the pillagers come, and the thunder rolls.
Nothing will touch you, when I'm here, as long as I'm round, you've got nothing to fear.

To get to you, they'll run into me, any enemies, stones, waves, or winds, come hit me.
For you, I'll give my life, I'd place all I have on the line, just to make sure you get out fine.

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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What You Never Knew

I first remember you from way back, when I was just a kid. You stopped your life and reached down to spend time with me.
I guess I'm getting rather old now, as I look back and wistfully wish. Wish that things would go back to how they use to be.
Cause you ain't there no more, to spend some time with me, find something for me to do, walk beside me, catch me when I fall.
Now I find that I'm all alone in a cold cruel world, faltering, running scared. I'm tired of running, I don't want to run no more.
Now I think I've found what you felt. The loneliness, the desolation, the desire to belong: the longing for someone who adores everything you do.
Well that was me, I followed you round. My little eyes watched your every move. You were my idol, but you never knew, that I was following you.
I would be your slave, your servant, whatever you bid. Who cares, as long as I got to be your accomplice.
Come the good times, yeah, come the trouble, I'll be there, anything just to get on your 'good friend's list.
I guess I'll never really know, if you knew I was watching, or if you were ignorant. But sometimes I wish that I knew, cause ignorance ain't always bliss.
If only you knew, how each morning, I stared into the mist, waiting for you to appear, but after so long, it's all boiled down to this.
What you never knew, is I loved you with every fiber and being of my heart. If there ever was a thing as the perfect devotee, that was me. Nothing could stop me.
What you never knew, is that I would move heaven and earth to stay close, but you let the mountains and giants make you flee.
As time passed, things got in my way. You let them cloud your vision, I didn't clear them out fast enough. Don't really know how it all collapsed.
Maybe I wasn't hard enough. Maybe I was too caring. Maybe I should have been more point-on. Maybe I should have followed my heart, but now it's crashed.
What you never knew, is that I didn't care what inflicted you, because I would walk through hell, just to carry through.
What you never knew, is that all I really cared about was you.

Story behind the poem:
There are so many things that we 'never knew'. Perhaps if we actually took the time, we might be able to discover some of those things.: D

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Shooting Star

Shooting stars, they blazed in the night sky,
As on the beach, didst two lovers stare into the sky.
She the princess and he her handsome prince
As they shared a soft moonlit kiss
Princess, beauty rare. To her prince without a flaw
Wanting nothing at all.
Whispers he, 'I love you always.'
So they live, happily ever always.

Alas, such a fairytale ending will never be.
For a small fire would change the princess you see.
No longer the soft flower of the meadow, in full bloom-
Now she was scarred and burnt - willing for death to take her soon.
She last remembered him, as they whisked her to the ER
His horrified face turning away as she was dragged from the car.
Weeks passed, she refused to see him, till finally he no longer called.
She no longer wanted to see the mirror, she was a flower that withered and wilted.
She ignored his messages, she didn't want to hear, his voice again,
To tell her that he could no longer see her like this again.

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Roaring Lion

On a bright sunny day, amidst the African brush-
Playing in the sand, two tiny lion cubs.
Filled with potential, though they be yet small,
Furry balls of terror unaware of the dangers about them all.
They play, in their little sand pit, preparing for what is ahead.
Unaware of it, yet preparing for it.
But lo, as they play, come clouds, a storm is gathering.
As now they cower, suddenly aware that safety is faltering.
The glowing eyes of hideous predators lurk in the dark,
They loom up, watching and waiting, for the moment to strike.
The cubs cower up against the sand, no use to run.
They cringe as darkness veils the sun.
Jaws snap at them, fangs bare. Snarls penetrate their ears.
They wince as their antagonists stand above them, their greatest fear.
No screaming, no yelling. Just a quiet call, so quiet, that you'd barely hear it at all.
Facing their imminent fate, with nothing more than a faint SOS call.
They whimper as the teeth nip their hinds, as their enemies pin them down.
Horror encapsulates them. No way out can be found.
The killer blow comes rushing in - they close their eyes
But something lights up their world - a dazzling white light

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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My Promise

'You remember this girl, don't you?
Cause she remembers you, and she's pregnant too.'
The words split through my ears,
Giving way to plunging fears.
'They know who the father is,
A boy named you is who it is.'
I felt my head start to whirl, How could it be?
Couldn't remember anything, ‘tween her and me.
'Really? ' I looked around, and took in the stares.
All around me, disapproving glares.
I was kicking myself inside, how could I do such a thing
But the problem was, once you're in, you're in.
I vaguely remember the rush of her hair,
The tan skin, and freckles so fair.
Now I heard the adults speak and let their views go
They fought back and forth, and finally, lo.
'We'll put the baby up for adoption.' They finally agreed
But something had planted in my heart, a little seed.
Packed my bags and jumped on a train
Pushing on, despite their demands.

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Jesus the King

On the hill of Calvary
Hung up on a tree,
Stripped bare for all to see-

Jesus, King of the Jews,
The carpenter of Galilee,
Dying for me and you.

The soldiers and priests
Shaking dust off their feet
While his followers few, did weep.

Hah, Jesus Christ the King! ?
Hear them in mockery sing
Great Caesar be our only King!

But though they reviled,
And though they mocked.
He cried, 'Father forgive; they know not.'

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Nothing in my Hands

I may be the cream of the crop, I could be the brass at the top. I could rise up, beyond ordinary's scope, where does it stop? Where does it stop?

I could have the biggest house, best car, flashy jewels, a hollywood star. I could be the biggest, richest, best-known near n' far. But none of that's gonna get me where you are.

I could give the poor all my wealth. I could spend my life giving others health. I could fill a shelf with books above a hearth. Or nuture one from birth.

I could give you everything, every penny, every minute, every dime. Still wouldn't make it if I gave you all my time. Wouldn't do if I brought you every friend of mine.

But why dream of the big when I can't grasp the little. In the end, what use is a title? How will I pass the crysis when I can't pass peace? Oh how brittle!

Coming to you with a head held high, when to you I don't even stay nigh! Taking for granted that I rise from each night. Never seeing what I actually bring inside.

Thinking I've got it all, but I don't know a thing at all. So here I am crying on the floor. God, I ain't brought you nothing at all!

I'm just a stuck-up ignorant creation, lost inside his own imagination, living inside my mind's illusions, victim of my pride's delusions

I come to you with my hands full, but it ain't nothing but bull, watch as in your sight it becomes null. Please touch my eyes, remove the wool.

Burn through my paper and wood, show me the silver and gold. Show me what really counts before I'm too old. You know what card's in my hand, I may as well fold.

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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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