I know its been awhile but life truly has been crazy. Boot camp, on to my first command and then a deployment. Hope this helps fill the void. There are sure to be many more postings as I have done quite a bit of writing over the last year. No beta, all mistakes are my own.

This is a compilation of poems that I have personally written. All of these poems were written during my first Christmas Season away from home (however they are not Christmas poems). Christmas is a time for family. The New Year a time to start fresh. For many families that time of year is unfortunately more sad than happy. None of these poetic stories directly use JAG as their basis but because of the Patriotic tone of them this is where they fit best. I hope you enjoy. And please, as you celebrate anniversaries, birthdays and holidays with your loved ones, keep in mind those of us who do not have that luxury. But have the awesome responsibility of protecting you while you celebrate with those you love. I am a United States Sailor. And proud to serve - you. May God Bless America. May God Bless our Troops and those they love. America.

Shot Down

The rain dances on the tarp covering our heads.

The weather is ironic how it matches my mood.

For it's a cold, rainy day.

Today I don't wear the uniform I'm proud of

For I'm drabbed in black from head to toe.

The volley racks through my body.

Two more to follow.

A 21 gun salute.

The highest of honors

For a man who died

For a man who led such an honorable life.

He raised his right hand

Only to be shot down.

He spent his time in that sand

Only to be shipped home in a body bag.

Duty, honor, courage

They fold it into 13 perfect folds

A triangle it forms.

The red buried beneath the blue and white

Only the stars doth show.

They hand me the flag he lived to serve

Died to protect.

I use one of his handkerchiefs to wipe my tears.

I look to my mother in law

She holds her grandson close to her bosom

She cries for the son she lost.

For his lost chance to be a daddy.

For he'd never met the two month old, she now held.

For he raised his right hand

Only to be shot down.

He spent his time in that sand

Only to be shipped home in a body bag.

They'd made that little boy

On his two week furlough.

He cries for his mommy,

For even he can tell they're all sad.

His piercing blue eyes that are all his dads

Look into my own

I thought I couldn't cry anymore but I do when I see

A new set of eyes in eighteen years

Raising his right hand

I just pray he wont be shot down

For he'll spend his time in that sand

Living for the stars and stripes.

Serving the land he loved

Shot down for all he believed in.

For all of the widows, widowers and children that have lost and will never know their heros.