07 Oct 2011
by mbwilliams
in Poems
Tags: British Armed Forces, ego, Honor, Honour, inspiration, Online Writing, Philosophy, Poetry, pride, Union Jack, writing, Zen
Honour and Pride
Houses made by men who love to build
Bonds that bind one to something bigger
Than himself.
A mind-trap but also a wonder
Of imagination.
If I must die for something
Let it be this:
That I am worth something
And did not fail before the fray,
But led my men from the front in war,
And at other times was not slow
To make my peace,
When wisdom showed me the error of my ways,
Long past deeds that rise like ghosts to offend
The house I strive to free of shades-
Demons that crept
Under my shield of self-regard,
Whilst better men held their tongue
And hoped I would be wise enough to find the strength within,
Rebuild the world shattered by my own clumsy hands.
But in the end what’s true is what men believe,
And I believe that houses like men were made to fall
Only to rise again,
And I was made to build them.
-For Mr Harding
18 May 2011
by mbwilliams
in Poems
Tags: Art, brotherhood, brotherly love, drink, drinking, drunkeness, fellowship, friendship, Honor, Honour, inspiration, life, loyalty, Philosophy, Poetry, Thought, wine, writing
The drunken days of yesteryear,
Do sometimes raise a tear,
On older eyes gazing back,
To memories brighter than the light
When they formed,
About two friends talking and drinking,
From sunset through moonrise,
Into the pale mist that calls in the dawn.
It is of no matter what was said,
Only that bonds were forged to last a lifetime of rust,
And the drift of years cannot divide,
Brothers in who the blood of lasting loyalty will flow,
Past the wheel of life and death,
That in a moment can take a lifetime,
They cannot take this.
And though I may never tell you,
Let the discarded bottles of our youth,
Carry this one message:
That you are,
And till the last will be,
My friend
02 May 2011
by mbwilliams
in Poems
Tags: death, Glory, Honor, Honour, inspiration, life, Philosophy, Poetry, Samurai, Samurai Poem, thoughts, Valor, Valour, warrior, Warriorship, way of the warrior, writing, Zen
If I must die,
Then let this rain day pour my blood
With long forgotten valor,
A worthy end for song or silence,
Let empires of lesser men rise in my stead,
Grey faced and pale of limb,
Lifeless husks eating up the earth,
Till she shakes her back free and remembers,
Long ago I stood,
Did not kneel before the fray,
And died for that oft derided word:
Glory!
The Mirror of Truth 