remember the sorrow

Charles Buchanan
here is an example of my poetry
THEY RISE AGAIN
They may have been a brother,a sister or a friend…they rise again declaring the legacy of men.
Born in wombs of freedom they fell in distant lands; they come again rejoiceing where the flag of liberty stands.
We live again to honor,they live again to proclaim the unity gained by courage and hopes eternal flame.
They rise again from the ashes of historys sonnet of grief,their love of country proud and deep…the bonds beyond belief.
But singing songs of valor they fought yet sought no gain…to stand before the gates of freedom to give this nation its name:
They rise again united,and from histories bloody rod,have given us their blessing;
“ONE NATION UNDER GOD”
CHARLES BUCHANAN
THE FOND FAREWELL
No one knows what toil waits in front of wide st. peters gates,
I only know that death shall flee because sweet love hath lifted me.
In an instant,pain long abideing will kneel toward angels and there confideing-endless joy and choirs singing-a greater harvest to heaven bringing.
No one knows the saviors test,until one moment in life he is blest,
so on that day he takes us home we will know we never walked alone.
Then shall I ever sing and dance and see all living as a second chance.
God gives us time between birth and our end-to share his love,to make a friend…to seek the truth in that great amen.
To love his creatures great and small and see all subject to his call.
No one knows the hurt in your soul,but at the opening of gods holy scroll-at the end of your dreams there is only bliss,and the fathers eternal gentle kiss.
I have been a warrior without a sword and fought by lofty prose and strength of his word-no one can ever take those away-
they toll a vast echo as I go on my way.
Charles h Buchanan 111

12:38pm
Charles Buchanan
FOUND A GIFT
I found a gift not laid near a tree,
A breath of new life descending on me,
As I had prayed for others-unknown neighbors, long -forgotten friends,
…Christ’s love returned to heal me as I prayed this prayer to him:
“Send me an angel to help me proclaim,
The truth of God’s word to all ill and maimed,
To all who are homeless, no warmth from a manger,
A hug from a friend or praise from a stranger,
Who sit in silence, hurt and decay,
I pray that CHRISTMAS will find them today,
Send them all gifts that make them FEEL,
That no system of men may hide or steal,
Send them dignity wrapped in bright light,
In a home near a fireside, where friends are in sight.
I pray that this CHRISTMAS will give all a place,
Under trees of good wishes, kindness and grace.
A prayer returned will heal all wounds,
And build in us mansions with no empty rooms.
By Charles Buchanan
have you cried
have you passed a stranger on a cold and darkened street,
his eyes moistened and blurry before the tears drop to his feet,
this is the time of sorrow,between the need and the prayer,that we should act as one to another to shelter the despair.
to tell them that this would be you if you had not taken the time to stop and listen to gods voice with your youth still left to shine.
have you prayed without shareing a simple act of faith or cast a burden from your heart only to dwell in a lonelier place.
If you have seen the face of despair the result of the callous creed,it is because you have not cried,nor spared a moment for those in need.
miracles do not live in a vacuum or a closet filled with prayers,they live in the heart of action between mans hope and tears.

12:41pm
Charles Buchanan
some additional poems from two books I had published several years ago
to glorian.kimbal
here are some of my best poems. some are from two published books of poetry from several years back.
“CEDAR ON SATIN” and “THE VAGABOND CAFE”

MOVEING FAITH

The lord is moveing here and there; in a poor mans house and a childs prayer,for a moment hidden in thecold and shame,his feet are walking toward that little flame.
A footstep not heard till christs name is called,from the depth of a faith hungray and mauled-by minds sorely wasted and left alone,pushed from gods sight so near to his throne.
The lord is moveing and his kingdom not far,being built by faith that you share where you are.
Mans loftiest castles cannot compare to the simple abode when Christ is there,and from the dim light in rooms chilled and dark; a storm awaiting-no sheltered ark,a light moves closer and a shadowy face kneels at our doorstep and lends us gods grace.
The lord is moving and we carry on,our little cross of grace to a neighbors house where blinds are drawn,and show him the footsteps in a soft white snow,that lead to our doorstep-a warm light aglow.
He sees in my face that the magnitude of sin is denying the miracle of faith-not shareing christs life within.
If the poorest of men could share this praise,both noble and haughty would soon mend their ways,
and cast from the earth the spectre of need and plant the joyous faithful seed.

DIVIDE AND “OCCUPY”

See them standing in the middle of town,color,pomp and squalor,symbols of a world turned upside down.
dogs; flags,tattoos and messages of hope,built for spectacle and nearer to DOPE.
When the match is handy and the freedom torch is lit,the powder keg rolling between you and IT,the signs replaced with badge and shield-the second amendment gets repealed!
Run for the exits don’t catch your breath,as nightfall comes it could be life or death!
The flicker of rage is seen in the eye of people who would rather fight than cry.
they run toward streets where fires dance in the night,
blown by winds of vain delight.
the only warmth of heart takes its toll…the burning barrel and martyrs soul.
They built their camps and put up tents,then paid no taxes nor any rent,expecting those who labored as “rich”to give up theirs-aint life a bitch!
Life is not fair becomes law of the land and liberty leaning toward jungle land.
Give us hope and greater relief; but like the end of the world…may “come as a thief”
They feel justice is done for more,if seen as a Saturday market or dollar store.
Whwn the tents come down and the fires go out and the passion dies in a bitter rout-the homeless still without a home-a few less taxes going to rome….the cupboards barer,the treasury drained,children are crying-you would think it had rained!
If anyone asks what they think is in store:
“THE RICH GETTING RICHER,THE POOR GETTING POORER”!
charles h buchanan 111

heaven for me

Is heaven a righteous place for me,where men of valor long to be
and kings fight bloody tasteless wars,to gain a place where the spirit soars?
The gate is narrow as the path and the way and only men let in to play,
yet common to me are the sins that I keep,under my pillow while fast asleep,and beside me the dearest friend I shall know would not be allowed past st peters row.
The mighty angels should fall down and cry for access so shallow
my pet would deny,
For if there be heaven and a cozy place for the wagging tail and the furry face,I am sure their welcome would far exceed the sound of trumpets or apostles creed.
theirs is a world I could understand….and the ledger book a paw in my hand,
a roll in the grass or a jump in delight,instead of vile truth or imperial light.
I stand at the threshold and dare to knock on the little doormat of the four-legged flock,
for there I would not have to worry or wait for a second comeing
and a cleaner slate.

JOURNEYS

Before you climb the tallest mountain,or reach for the brightest heavenly star,
cherish the earth you walk upon and the still small voice that cries where you are.
Before you seek the greater god that touches all in time…feel the rivers running joy and the love that makes it mine.
Beyond the gates we will not see if no light shines twixt thou and me,beyond the dark of ritual power
there grows a grand and fragrant flower-whose petals fall in a gentle wind,not careing who or what hath sinned.
Before our journey ever begins we are seen by gods vast reflecting lens,and guided by the image of he who lives beyond eternity.
So climb your mountains,view the stars…rejoice in all beauty both near and afar; capture the art in a butterflies wing; watch the clouds dance as the summer breeze sings.
redemption will come from any path chosen as long as there is life and your heart is not frozen.
Charles h Buchanan 111
sunriver oregon

Man’s Best Friend

I shake the sleep from a cold dark night,

And into morning my soul takes flight,
A walk in the park with my furry friend,

I hope the love shall never end.
Indeed we slept and awoke together,

Our paths much the same thru fair or foul weather,
A promise made from a heavenly breach,

Together we stand within God’s reach.
I know men who God cannot find,

For their hearts are brittle and to nature unkind.
They think that their heaven is only a place,

That youth can touch or the holy embrace,

And yet on the way to a careless romp,

A warm tongue licks away the pomp.
Forgetting the wary eye of men,

A wagging tail delays my sin,

And leaping at shadows only she can see,

She still looks back and waits for me.
If only the world were as true as this heart,

We could sooner see heaven and never depart.

to wendy, Sandra

Man’s Best Friend

I shake the sleep from a cold dark night,

And into morning my soul takes flight,
A walk in the park with my furry friend,

I hope the love shall never end.
Indeed we slept and awoke together,

Our paths much the same thru fair or foul weather,
A promise made from a heavenly breach,

Together we stand within God’s reach.
I know men who God cannot find,

For their hearts are brittle and to nature unkind.
They think that their heaven is only a place,

That youth can touch or the holy embrace,

And yet on the way to a careless romp,

A warm tongue licks away the pomp.
Forgetting the wary eye of men,

A wagging tail delays my sin,

And leaping at shadows only she can see,

She still looks back and waits for me.
If only the world were as true as this heart,

We could sooner see heaven and never depart.

MY LIBERTY

Oh,for this immortal pit of tears that dries the marrow of my bones,have I given the blood in my pen,and the wisdom of my years.
Liberty hath cloaked all sorrow for a moment,for a time,and shared my christs sweet mercy in a sonnet and a rhyme.
But now the pain of ageless sin has echoed once again,from wars bleak,stale hypocrisy in to the hearts of men.
Led from light unto darkness by the pale-pious few who prey on the bloodied harvests of we who once a savior knew.
We now must face an angel bred in our own deep wounds…in fields of historys graveyards,where once red roses bloomed.
We face this new world together for better or for worse,but the ancient curse held by kings,binds chapter,law and verse.
Forgotten are the vows…the testaments of sweet youth,where flag and freedom of common man hold the banner of all truth.
Forever will I cherish the law which groomed our land,and loaned me my dear liberty and held gods mighty hand.
Charles h Buchanan 111
sunriver,oregon
THEY RISE AGAIN

They may have been a brother,a sister or a friend…they rise again declaring the legacy of men.
Born in wombs of freedom they fell in distant lands; they come again rejoiceing where the flag of liberty stands.
We live again to honor,they live again to proclaim the unity gained by courage and hopes eternal flame.
They rise again from the ashes of historys sonnet of grief,their love of country proud and deep…the bonds beyond belief.
But singing songs of valor they fought yet sought no gain…to stand before the gates of freedom to give this nation its name:
They rise again united,and from histories bloody rod,have given us their blessing;
“ONE NATION UNDER GOD”
“SOLDIER”

WHEN KINGDOMS FAIL IN A LONG DARK NIGHT,AND BATTLES RAGE FAR OUT OF SIGHT,BLED THROUGH STRONG ARMOR FLOWS THE SOLDIERS TEARS-WE SEE THE STAIN OF TWO THOUSAND YEARS,ON CUP AND CHALICE AND HEAVY WOODEN CROSS-THE LOSS OF ONE SAINT AT SUCH GREAT COST.
EVEN ONE IS TOO DEAR TO HANG ON THAT TREE;MORTAL COMBAT HUNG IN EFFIGY,IT CURSES THE LAND THAT SENT YOU FORTH AND SCATTERS YOUNG BONES IN SHALLOW EARTH.
A BUGLE BLOWN AND TWENTY ONE GUN SALUTE WILL NEVER KNOW THIS SILENT RECRUIT,HE WANTED NO PITY NOR DARK REMORSE AND FINDS NO REST ON BATTLEFIELDS VILE COURSE.
LORD PLEASE SEND WHAT REMAINS OF ME TO THAT GREAT HIGH MOUNT CALLED CALVARY,WHERE CHRIST WAS SENT WITHOUT A SWORD TO DIE IN BATTLES FOR GODS WORD.
THE LONG MARCH;THE ORDER; THAT PERILOUS SORE,NEVER ASKED FOR LESS BUT BEGGED FOR MORE-DUTY NOW CARVED ON CROSSES AND STONE FOR THE MEMORY OF MILLIONS WHILE I DIED ALONE.
YOU CAN SEE THE FACES IN THE STRIPES AND BRITE STARS,WHERE EMPIRES NOW BANKRUPT BARE WARS SCARS.
WHEN KINGDOMS FAIL IN THAT LONG DARK NIGHT,AND BATTLES RAGE FAR OUT OF SIGHT-REMEMBER THE PAIN AND FERVENT PLEA:
MY HONOR WAS THE ONLY VICTORY.
CHARLES BUCHANAN 111

“MONUMENT”
(poem by Charles Buchanan 111)

Another wall of remembrance place near a now leaned tower the skies embrace.
A testament on such hallowed ground,where gods firmcovenant and constitution
is found…where terror sought to bury a city built a wall of faith from PITY.
Bring it unto the leaders of men who sought to cast aside their sin and
frame in lights near the golden shore,but leave our capitol naked and sore.
The warning there does rumble and shake and our liberty waits for gods
namesake. Our hearts remember “NINE-ONE-ONE”but without truth and dignity
another will come….far worse below the pearly gates,near Lincolns seat such
peril waits,if those empowered reject our need: the prayer,the oath,and
constitution creed.

Christ died for this?
Once rejected,despised of men,born to save and not offend the king of the heavens bore the stain of their fear,and blood fell as teardrops-his disciples disappear into the sanctimonious crowd,the roman drums beating aloud-feeling the thrashing of soldiers whips while blood scattered lightly upon their lips.
Great the scourge which brought men low,and mourned the paths that most would go-to follow leaders of various flocks,and dashing pure faith on jagged rocks.
Up the hill Christ carried that cross-it was his curse-it would be our loss,his wounds never getting the chance to heal,his case never reaching a court of appeal.
Mankind was never more inhumane,the young man callous-the old insane.
We see the acts over and over again,a history filled by NOT SO ORIGINAL SIN!
rewritten and polished to suit the best cause and bring about rapturous applause-fill the coffers of voluminous guilt while another wooden cross is built.
“an eye for an eye” and CAST THE FIRST STONE,at your friend-your brother asleep or alone.
The hypocrite stands near a holy flame,casting out demons in christs name,packing their pews with those of their choice,warming their hearts and not giving them voice.
Afraid to question the murderous deeds of empires planting their bloody seeds: killing our children and robbing them blind in a land becoming mosre unkind.
They claim the end is drawing nigh….just not now-you wonder why?
Still more wallets left to purge: a victory over evil once again called a “SURGE”
AND KILL THEIR PROPHETS OR DENY THEM A LIVING,this system of men…a sore misgiveing.
CHRIST DIED FOR THIS? I ask you again: this the world you are living in?

sincerely,charles h buchanan 111