Cold Rage

 

Within The Honed Professionals

In The Mud Colored Camo

Lurks A Hidden Sense

Of Right And Wrong

Of Honor And Obligation

Forged Through Years Of Service

To The Colors

For The Nation,

Of The Corps

Marines They Are

And Will Always Be

To Their Own Drum

Throbbing The Count

They Listen First and Last

Waiting Now Silent

Cold And Hard

Like Flat Water At Dawn

For News Of Brother Held

For Ransom Undeliverable

For Silent Assent Of Release

On His Expected Death

The Ancient Cry Of "Havoc"!

With Blood They Shall Pay

Till No More Are Found

Who Such Deeds Would Dare

Till The Sands Scream

Enough! No More!

Till Furtive Shadows

No More Are Seen

Before The Dawn

Planting Death

Along The Market Road,

Till No More The Thunder

Of Shattered Square

The Screams Of Wounded

Ringing Through The Dust

Till Last Flag Draped Casket

Finds Itís Long Way Home

Till Nation Proud Says

Enough, Muster, Count The Cost

Fill Your Ranks Anew

With Warriors True

Ready To Again Wait

For Battles Call

Cold Rage To Nurse

Till Moment Again Comes

For Itís Release

 

Copyright © 1, July 2004 Joseph A. Merrill III

All Rights Reserved

Sarge the Poet

Written In Response To This letter

30, June 2004
A Marines Promise

An Open Letter to Al-Qa'ida

 

Music From

Great Midi Bagpipe Tunes
Bagpipes at Best: Bagpipe MIDI
Great Midi Bagpipe Tunes

A Poem Cycle By Sarge the Poet

CRY "HAVOC!"

"Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the Dogs of War"

Written Late Winter 2001

To The Corps Of Astronauts 
Our Little Noticed Heroes

Salute

Facing The Far Frontier

9 / 11

Forget Hell

Apparition

 

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