A Soldier’S Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers: A Collection of Poems
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About this ebook
Lifeindividuals from across the globe have referred to it in countless ways, expressing the vast expanse of lifes little indiscretions through different idioms. Yet, through the eyes of this old soldier, life has beenand still continues to bea journey molded by past experiences and guided by ghosts, with gentle whispers of encouragement. In A Soldiers Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers, readers have the chance to travel through the struggles of life as seen by a soldier. But there is far more to author John B. Carter than just soldiering.
Through death, divorce, loneliness, spiritual heartache, and triumph, there is a single message that remains at the forefront for those traveling through these pages: press on and overcome! From the poignant A Tear on My Pillow to the spiritual How Could I Love God? the author captures the emotions that bring these words to life. Faith is woven into everything Carter does, yet, as the oak tree of his life grows, its roots draw from the memories deep within him.
Throughout A Soldiers Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers, there are photos from Carters family and friends, intending to catapult readers imaginations as the written words guide them from one experience to the next.
John B. Carter
John Carter is a father, husband, retired Army Officer. Above all else, he is a Christian. Through his younger years, in times of awkwardness and trails, he relied on his faith. Through strife and sometimes bitter heartache, he clung to his faith. Through years of military service, it was his faith that continued to sustain him as he went through life. He holds an undergraduate degree in Religion and a Masers of Arts in Pastoral Care. He is active in his church; he and his wife now reside in Alabama.
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A Soldier’S Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers - John B. Carter
A Soldier’s
Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers
_____________
A Collection of Poems
JOHN B. CARTER
iUniverse LLC
Bloomington
A Soldier’s Thoughts, Memories, and Prayers
A Collection of Poems
Copyright © 2013 by John B. Carter.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-9748-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-9750-7 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-9749-1 (ebk)
iUniverse rev. date: 07/10/2013
Contents
Introduction
My Dogwood Garden
When I Write
Dream, Dream
A Tear on My Pillow
Love
This I Promise, This I Pledge
The Wedding
To My Wife—My Love
To My Dearest Friend
I am an Overcomer
My Heart’s Humble Cry
What Manner
Love Talks—Friendship Walks
What Of This Thing Called Love?
My God: A Cripple?
Where Are You, My Brother?
Pearl River
Our Flag
In Your Eyes
Be Strong
Christ Is King—a Psalm of Praise
The Crowd
A Song
Adoration
Death
The Gravedigger Digs
The Light in the Window
A Lame Man Made Whole?
Impatience
Sir-render
Time
The White Field of Harvest
Family
The Rain
Searching the Skies
This Looks like Fall
Your Pains
My Concerns
Miles Apart
My Eyes Are Full of Sleep
My Heart
How Could I Love God?
Duty, Honor, Country
To a Soldier
His Eyes—Mark 11
Waiting for This Day
Lamp unto My Path—Reflections on Psalm 119
A Candle
The Same
The Church
Compassion’s eyes—
Eyes of God
Mountaintop High
My Old Friend
My Love, How Often I Have Thought
My Only Regret
Life
Learn to Live
To the Hills
Merry Christmas
I’m Not Worthy
Shadows, Memories, and Things to Come
Ha-Ha-Ha
Death
The Lamb
They Call
I Want More
My Dearest
Some Say of Love
To Ponder
Where Does Christmas Come From?
The Right
Salvation?
Sea of Color
Sands of Time
I Gazed into the Eyes of a Blind Man
I Know My Redeemer Liveth
Of Psalm 23
I Close My Eyes
the rose
Music
Straying from Home
The Season—It Is Changing
The Dark One
When God Answers Prayer
God Will
The Meadow
Fall
A Field House
My Father’s Hands
It Is All a Matter of Trust
Parting Thoughts
About the Author
Drawings and photos
30628.jpgIntroduction
Drawing%20in%20Intro.jpgSo as I sit here at my old desk, I glean from the ghosts of my past. These ghosts, as they peer over my shoulder, they gaze into the words I write. They whisper, recalling the encounters long since forgotten and emotions long since ignored. They utter words conjuring up visions of experiences, both those of simple, happy feelings and those that are, well, not so happy. These visions—as seen in a faded looking glass—are images of thoughts that seemingly beg for expression as well as prayers placed before the Almighty.
It is these words, then, that I find forming on the page before me; it is these words I pen. As I write, they form each pane in the stained glass window of my life. They tell stories—of love, passion, faith, the divine, of pain and death. Simply put, they tell stories of life!
Yet, if I should fail in my daunting task, who then would enjoy their painted window and journey the pathways they blaze? If not for their labor, if not for each piece neatly fitting into the window, how would those who come behind me know?
I invite you—come, gaze into my world. Come and allow the sun’s rays shining through the glass to envelop your being. For once you cross the colored rays, I challenge you to look for the ghosts—listen to their whispers and allow them to move you. So enter in and come along my life’s journey.
Pic%201%20Dogwood.jpgMy Dogwood Garden
In my heart
My soul travels,
Traveling along paths paved with memories.
There I breathe in the tender smells of my childhood long since past.
I sit and look up,
Gazing through the limbs that shelter my being.
Up there, reaching heavenward,
Are flowers of white.
There my face is colored, decorated by the shadows of the blossoms above me.
I sit, focusing my eyes
On the beauty that surrounds me.
How majestic and simply marvelous!
Their petals form a cross—with the rays of the sun captured in the middle.
I think to myself, how wonderful are these blessings from God!
There in the garden of my childhood,
There in the midst of that beauty, hopes and aspirations were built.
There I am.
My garden—how peaceful.
The sun shines down, peering through cascading draperies of green and white.
How beautiful they truly are!
Oh, my dear dogwoods—it has been said
You are trees that bear a single curse:
Your trunk—twisted,
Your growth—stunted.
Yet, through your springtime radiance,
You bear your true elegance.
Oh tree with blooming crosses—
Your blossoms sweet—that place where my childhood I should always meet.
For there under the canapé of white,
I see the earlier years of this older life and remember.
For those blooms help me to recall
What it means to hope and have faith in that hope.
No matter where I go—no matter what I do—I will always take you with me.
I shall never forget,
I shall hold dear
The memory of my dogwood garden.
When I Write
When I write—
Why is it the truest of feelings that I fight?
When I write—
It is my innermost emotions that must take flight.
When I write—
What was once unseen now reaches for its first light.
When I write—
It is my soul that has been given sight.
When I write—
Once free from their dim, dark places,
My feelings attach themselves to words
Free, as if to ride the wind like a kite.
When I write—
The truth can no longer be buried.
Expressions and feelings, I bow to