The Unforgotten?

The unforgotten stand
With heads bowed to the ground,
All through the long year,
The seasons do not fail them,
Rain and snow and wind and sun,
Beat down for all eternity.
Their names are written in rough-hewn blocks
John, David, Paul and Saul.
And upon these souls an angel stands,
For the soldiers, who were smitten?

And then there are those men,
They’re dead before their time,
They were only 18 years of age,
When the sting, was felt by them.
They’ve been left in no-mans land,
Between the rows of troops
Scattered in the holes of war,
All buried in their boots.

Oh! What price war or skirmish?
There have been many since,
Korea, Vietnam or Afghanistan
These are but a few.
Where man and boy were sent,
They said for ‘just’ intent!
To shore up ailing governments,
Their names we’ll never know.
Among the carnage of the war
These are the forgotten soldiers, few.

So when we pass those men,
With heads bowed down so low.
We say a silent pray,
And we think of those that died.
On rough-hewn blocks of stone, they’ll stand,
To hear ‘Last Post’ and ‘Buglers Call’.
But please remember who’ve fallen in their prime.
Around this world, so blue,
For all those men and women,
Who died through curse of war?



© Nick Rigazzi-Tarling 16th July 2009

One Small Step

"One small step......" Buzz Aldrin said,
as he left the module
"One small step......" the doctor said,
when the lame started to walk
"One small step......" the mother said,
To the baby crawling on her knees.
"One small step......" the father said,
holding on to the bike, before the child started to ride.
"One small step......" the General said,
to his army before they left the trenches.
"One giant leap......" Mankind whispered in return.


© Nick Rigazzi-Tarling 20 July 2009

Towards the Light

The orchestra it plays discordant notes,
On violin and cello.
They play in life their deathly throes,
Of man whose death comes near.
But what is this, the notes entwine
In music so sublime.
Discordant ends and harmony flies,
Like the end of man’s life dear.

A note is struck on Tibetan Bowl,
It’s ringing so very clear,
Above the notes of harmony
It strikes so mellow sound,
And meditation, its calling note
An OM appears quite clear.
The Light appears within the mind
As once the OM is said,
The meditation call is heard
Upon thine own deathbed.

I hear the constant sacred note
Of Tibetan Bowl so clear,
The light is getting brighter now
Its reach is calling me.
Such wonder, awe and loving light
It pulls me to its core,
But something calls me back again,
To my dear earth once more.

The droning ring of Tibetan Bowl,
Its sound, so very clear.
Its pulsating sound and rhythmic call
Starts pulling me again
Towards the Light and Omnipresent sight
His Will, you cannot evade
You meet your maker and family too
Among this light so clear.
That when you’re called from this earthly life
There is nothing for us to fear
Death is part of our make-up,
From child to old age, clear.
We stand in the midst of being called
To take our place, with Thee.

The Tibetan Bowl, it’s calling sound
That beckons towards the Light.
It sounds like the Buddhist ‘OM’
And will magnify the Light.
So fear not when our death draws near
We see the Light that beckons,
Just meditate on Sound and Light.
To withstand, we have no power,
This tunnelled Light, so clear.
We let it all surpass us
Our Soul is now with Thee.

© Nick Rigazzi-Tarling 8th July 2009