Looking Back

Looking  Back

Looking back

As the crow flies

And the ravens form

I can feel the coming storm

Unlike an October rain

When youth was in full bloom

And hunger kept me warm

It is just a memory 

An olive drab uniform

Drenched in Missouri sweat

And iron red earth 

Where a soldier was born

So many years gone

But lessons always learned

And my buddy's last words

See you soon

Echo in my brain

A ringing reminder

Of age marching on 

With dates in bronze

On A granite stone

Waiting there 

Marking time

Like a short timers tune

Free as a bird

Homeward bound.

D.A. Wittler 7/26/25

Is Anybody Out There?

When I started this blog way back when, I was another man living another life. I was a husband, and father. 

The End

Today I am an old man living another life. I had lost it all, and gained back more than I ever bargained for. I hope someone finds this page some day, and ... 

Cold Dead Hands

Cold Dead Hands

When I was just a boy

Daddy took me aside

Taught me a lesson

With a belt to my hide

Son, he said

Don't you run away

From life's mystery

And the evil lurking there

Pick up your gun

Take your place in the sun

Fight for freedom

Your home and lands

Don't let em steal it

 Be a man

Tell them they can take it

From your cold dead hands.

When the moon rises

Put aside the bad times 

Dream of better days

Leave the nightmares behind

Bury those old memories 

In an unmarked grave

Cause you got to stand

For something 

Or fall in the sand 

Like a poor example 

Of a broken man.

When the day came

Left my Daddies side

To find my pride

Gave my oath

To Uncle Sam

Rifle in my hand

Home of the free

Because of the brave

Who put it on the line

You got to get yourself ready 

For the fight of your life

Through storm and strive 

Fight for your freedom

Or die in the fire

Son to father

Here I am

My own man.

When the moon rises

Put aside the bad times 

Dream of better days

Leave the nightmares behind

Bury those old memories 

In an unmarked grave

Cause you got to stand

For something 

Or fall in the sand 

Like a poor example 

Of a broken man.

You can steal my lands

Gamble your money

Bring it on

You high and mighty

Take it all away

From my cold dead hands.

D.A. Wittler 7/8/25