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A Sympathetic Heart
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A Sympathetic Heart
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A sympathetic heart feels another's pain as its own,
understanding the caged bird's desperate song,
the silent ache of loss, or the weary struggle through hardship,
connecting deeply to shared human vulnerability through empathy,
seeing reflections of self in others' plight and offering solace,
not pity, from a place of shared feeling, like a steady light in the dark.
understanding the caged bird's desperate song,
the silent ache of loss, or the weary struggle through hardship,
connecting deeply to shared human vulnerability through empathy,
seeing reflections of self in others' plight and offering solace,
not pity, from a place of shared feeling, like a steady light in the dark.
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A Sympathetic Heart
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A sympathetic heart's no fortress tall,
But open ground where weary travelers call.
It hears the whisper of a distant sigh,
And feels the shadow of a passing cry.
It knows the language of the silent tear,
The unspoken burden, the familiar fear,
For in another's sorrow, it can find
A lost reflection of its own weak mind.
It sees the sun, but knows the caged bird's plea,
The longing for a wild, unburdened tree.
It feels the flutter of a bruised wing's beat,
The sharp, old pain that makes the longing sweet.
It doesn't judge the song that rises sore,
But hears the prayer that echoes from the core.
A heartfelt plea that heaven understands,
A fragile hope held in compassionate hands.
It is the hand that reaches in the night,
To share the darkness, then to seek the light.
It is the quiet breath, the steady gaze,
That walks beside you through the sunless haze.
No easy pity, born of distant view,
But thinking of those, what they go through.
A tender echo, true and deeply known,
A heart that feels, and never leaves you lone.
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A sympathetic heart's no fortress tall,
But open ground where weary travelers call.
It hears the whisper of a distant sigh,
And feels the shadow of a passing cry.
It knows the language of the silent tear,
The unspoken burden, the familiar fear,
For in another's sorrow, it can find
A lost reflection of its own weak mind.
It sees the sun, but knows the caged bird's plea,
The longing for a wild, unburdened tree.
It feels the flutter of a bruised wing's beat,
The sharp, old pain that makes the longing sweet.
It doesn't judge the song that rises sore,
But hears the prayer that echoes from the core.
A heartfelt plea that heaven understands,
A fragile hope held in compassionate hands.
It is the hand that reaches in the night,
To share the darkness, then to seek the light.
It is the quiet breath, the steady gaze,
That walks beside you through the sunless haze.
No easy pity, born of distant view,
But thinking of those, what they go through.
A tender echo, true and deeply known,
A heart that feels, and never leaves you lone.
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The Last Words From a Dying Soldier
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Written for the 1st War in Iraq. 1992
There on a misty morning.
The sun slowly rises.
After a battle in Baghdad
There lies her youngest son
Tears in his eyes, Wounded and dying.
Mother, if I could live my life again
If I could call the world my friend
If I could write my story end ...
I would call this war in vain
Just to see you once again.
A smile comes to his face,
An easy calm front of him
His life flashes by
Amidst his boyish charms,
He feels his mother’s arms
n that painless moment,
He hears her cry...
Son, if I could roll back the years,
If I could see through these tears
If I could face all my fears
I would call this war in vain,
Just to hold you once again.
If I could roll back the years again,
If I could see your face again,
If I could call the world my friend,
Where there is peace and love again
Just to see you mother again.
Please remember me forever
And share my story whenever
Please forget me never...
Your dying son from Baghdad.
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I shared several cards with Richard Bronson ...
I met him in Las Vegas.
This card was his favorite one ...
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The Last Words From a Dying Soldier
❖
Written for the 1st War in Iraq. 1992
There on a misty morning.
The sun slowly rises.
After a battle in Baghdad
There lies her youngest son
Tears in his eyes, Wounded and dying.
Mother, if I could live my life again
If I could call the world my friend
If I could write my story end ...
I would call this war in vain
Just to see you once again.
A smile comes to his face,
An easy calm front of him
His life flashes by
Amidst his boyish charms,
He feels his mother’s arms
n that painless moment,
He hears her cry...
Son, if I could roll back the years,
If I could see through these tears
If I could face all my fears
I would call this war in vain,
Just to hold you once again.
If I could roll back the years again,
If I could see your face again,
If I could call the world my friend,
Where there is peace and love again
Just to see you mother again.
Please remember me forever
And share my story whenever
Please forget me never...
Your dying son from Baghdad.
❖
I shared several cards with Richard Bronson ...
I met him in Las Vegas.
This card was his favorite one ...
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Empathy
a bridge of heart and mind,
lets us feel another's joy or bind,
walking in their shoes,
seeing through their eyes,
understanding pain beneath their brave disguise.
It's the quiet act of listening deep,
sharing burdens while the world may sleep,
finding common threads in laughter's sound,
where true connection can be found.
It's not just pity,
but a deeper share,
recognizing "us" in everyone, everywhere,
a sacred art to heal and make us whole,
a guiding light within the human soul.
Empathy
a bridge of heart and mind,
lets us feel another's joy or bind,
walking in their shoes,
seeing through their eyes,
understanding pain beneath their brave disguise.
It's the quiet act of listening deep,
sharing burdens while the world may sleep,
finding common threads in laughter's sound,
where true connection can be found.
It's not just pity,
but a deeper share,
recognizing "us" in everyone, everywhere,
a sacred art to heal and make us whole,
a guiding light within the human soul.
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War poems powerfully capture its tragedy through visceral horror,
lost innocence, and lasting grief, all revealing war's devastating cost
on soldiers and civilians.
War poems powerfully capture its tragedy through visceral horror,
lost innocence, and lasting grief, all revealing war's devastating cost
on soldiers and civilians.
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How do people recover from the devastating conflict of war,
especially if their homelands have been ravaged?
In "Foundations," the Polish poet Leopold Staff describes
how his attempts to "build" have "tumbled down," concluding:
"Now when I build, I shall begin / With the smoke from the chimney."
Poems about war ...
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How do people recover from the devastating conflict of war,
especially if their homelands have been ravaged?
In "Foundations," the Polish poet Leopold Staff describes
how his attempts to "build" have "tumbled down," concluding:
"Now when I build, I shall begin / With the smoke from the chimney."
Poems about war ...
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"In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae
"The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke
"Dulce Et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen
"The Diameter of the Bomb" by Yehuda Amichai
"Memorial Day for the War Dead" by Yehuda Amichai
"God Has Pity on Kindergarten Children" by Yehuda Amichai
"The Fall of Rome" by W. H. Auden
"On Being Asked to Write a Poem Against the War in Vietnam" by Hayden Carruth
"Waiting for the Barbarians" by Constantine Cavafy
"Navy Field" by William Meredith
"Death Fugue" by Paul Celan
"War is Kind" by Stephen Crane
"The Czar's Last Christmas Letter: A Barn in the Urals" by Norman Dubie
"Spoken from the Hedgerows" by Jorie Graham
"Elegy for Fortinbras" by Zbigniew Herbert
The Iliad by Homer
"Eighth Air Force" by Randall Jarrell
Dien Cai Dau by Yusef Komunyakaa
"Notes for an Elegy" by William Meredith
"War Music (an account of books 16-19 of Homer's Iliad)" by Christopher Logue
"For the Union Dead" by Robert Lowell
"My Father on His Shield" by Walt McDonald
"The War Works Hard" by Dunya Mikhail
"I Explain a Few Things" by Pablo Neruda
"Poem" by Muriel Rukeyser
"Foundations" by Leopold Staff
"Starvation Camp Near Jaslo" by Wislawa Szymborska
Wilfred Owen's "Dulce et Decorum Est"
John McCrae's "In Flanders Fields"
Siegfried Sassoon's "Attack"
Yusef Komunyakaa ("Facing It")
Brian Turner ("The Hurt Locker")
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"The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke
"Dulce Et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen
"The Diameter of the Bomb" by Yehuda Amichai
"Memorial Day for the War Dead" by Yehuda Amichai
"God Has Pity on Kindergarten Children" by Yehuda Amichai
"The Fall of Rome" by W. H. Auden
"On Being Asked to Write a Poem Against the War in Vietnam" by Hayden Carruth
"Waiting for the Barbarians" by Constantine Cavafy
"Navy Field" by William Meredith
"Death Fugue" by Paul Celan
"War is Kind" by Stephen Crane
"The Czar's Last Christmas Letter: A Barn in the Urals" by Norman Dubie
"Spoken from the Hedgerows" by Jorie Graham
"Elegy for Fortinbras" by Zbigniew Herbert
The Iliad by Homer
"Eighth Air Force" by Randall Jarrell
Dien Cai Dau by Yusef Komunyakaa
"Notes for an Elegy" by William Meredith
"War Music (an account of books 16-19 of Homer's Iliad)" by Christopher Logue
"For the Union Dead" by Robert Lowell
"My Father on His Shield" by Walt McDonald
"The War Works Hard" by Dunya Mikhail
"I Explain a Few Things" by Pablo Neruda
"Poem" by Muriel Rukeyser
"Foundations" by Leopold Staff
"Starvation Camp Near Jaslo" by Wislawa Szymborska
Wilfred Owen's "Dulce et Decorum Est"
John McCrae's "In Flanders Fields"
Siegfried Sassoon's "Attack"
Yusef Komunyakaa ("Facing It")
Brian Turner ("The Hurt Locker")
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