#WW2

23 posts
  • ananias 21w

    #russia #ww2 #soldiers #war


    This is an adaptation of an old Russian song named "Katyusha"

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    [Katyusha]

    -------------------

    Sweet scents on a crisp breeze, creeping mist through falling leaves.

    A sweet girl, stumbling as she climbs the bank where she finds a view to watch brothers and fathers fighting across the shore.

    She sings with her love of who she adores, brave soldiers abroad, heroes each one, armed with guns, clothes and courage against incendiary bombs, falling on them to protect daughters, sisters, moms.

    Let her song ride the breeze and be carried by the sun, to remind those brave soldiers what's waiting them when they've won.

    ©ananias

  • the_amorist 34w

    Based on the deeds of Josef Mengele, who will probably be forever known as the Angel Of Death in human history for his acts against humanity during WW2. This is far from being an ode to him. It is more of an attempt to shed light on how appalling human behavior can be.
    #History #WW2

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    AOD

    Always clad as sharp as the tools of his trade

    He grins as wide as his blade

    His smile gets wider as he begins to 'operate'

    In the wake of a charade

    He puts on to have you swayed

    Attempting to serenade

    Your bairn and neonate

    Through the violin he played

    Symphonies of mortality

    Might such atrocities

    Be encompassed by evil's banality?

    Always eager to get the malicious procedures underway

    A belief in him fabricated and fictitious

    Claims he acts for the curiousity of all humanity

    Yet at the end of the day it'd be obvious

    When sadistic meets anti-semetic

    Mutilation be easy as automatic

    Fracturing another man's skull be riutalistic

    The cynic becomes the one with logic

    As Euthanasia be a mercy

    For the man who's sold his rights to inner peace

    For the twins he seamed to be siamese

    Begging ' please, let us pass with ease'

    Who dreamed they would one day grow up

    Prayed for rescue to a deity who didn't show up

    Whose fate and spine intertwined

    The second he decided to sew up

    The corium on their backs

    A few days prior their trip to the crematorium

    Such acts be holy in the vile sanctorium

    Of the Angel of Death
    ©the_amorist

  • ananias 49w

    #Japan #Nagasaki #Hiroshima #ww2 #nukes #antiwar #antiwar #radioactivity #nuclear

    Having recently watched some documentaries on the effects of nuclear radiation exposure I can safely say that the nuclear bombings of Japan in ww2 were some of the greatest man made catastrophes to ever see the earth. Radiation exposure causes your cells and dna to break down while you are still alive. Your cells stop regenerating. Your bone marrow turns to mush. Your white blood cells disappear and you slowly die as the last of your cell storage runs out and your body begins to rot while you are alive. It is impossible to cure and every part of your body is irradiated making any transplants or treatment impossible.


    In short, we should all be against these barbaric weapons.

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    [Big Boy and Fat Man]

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    It's a nuclear reaction. Chaos' bastion, compiling and building up enough force to smash them and enough dirty particles to last them three generations of birth defects. Atoms forced through living matter, it hardly mattered to them as cells were destroyed and dna broke down across those two towns. Looking for peace but only hell on earth was found.

    ©ananias

  • nathan 76w

    One world

    The Spirit of man has awakened
    The Soul of man has gone forth

    Grant us the wisdom and the vision
    to comprehend the greatness of man’s Spirit
    that suffers and endures so hugely for a goal
    beyond his own brief span

    We are all of us children of Earth
    Grant us that simple knowledge

    If our brothers are oppressed,
    then we are oppressed

    If they hunger, we hunger

    If their freedom is taken away,
    our freedom is not secure

    Grant us a common faith,
    that man shall know bread and peace
    That he shall know justice and righteousness,
    Freedom and security, an equal opportunity,
    and an equal chance to do his best,
    not only in our own lands, but throughout the world.

    And in that faith, let us march, march toward the clean world,
    our hands can make. Amen

    -Franklin D. Roosevelt, June 14,1942

  • victoriastokoe 81w

    Closer

    Drink love in waves.
    Chase our passions
    before they get away.
    Smell the essence
    of the last night,
    the last day.
    We forget these
    moments..
    We forget
    they leave us..
    The pages curl,
    grow dim, turn grey.
    Close in my arms
    you stay.
    Drink love in waves.
    Chase your dreams,
    before the light
    inside you fades.
    Lest we forget,
    they left us.
    Your photo curls
    grows dim, turns grey.
    Closer in my heart
    you'll stay.

  • rodney 94w

    Historical events.

    Sinners are on the pedestal.
    Commoners shot at the wishes of the admiral.

    Cities in ruins.
    Water ways and fancy fountains
    with tossed coins.

    Creator's creativity killing each other for world domination.
    One has to be split into two after one has achieved mass extinction.

    World Wars and national commerce.
    Admirals, generals and art's verse.

    World annihilation, mass extinction;
    The act of revenge and retaliation.
    Say what you want to say, ‘shallom’, ‘heil Hitler’.

    Send spies, kill lies.
    Encroach more, send whores.

    Learn tongues, kiss earth.
    The scarred palms can't carve out a path.

    Peace ain't in the way you kill a man.
    Peace is in the way you know yourself.

    The sculptor's hands never exemplifies its worth.

    We know not history, we've only heard of her wretched beauty.

    Nobody's a saint here, with a plot of land that he owns.

    Maps may come, maps may go.

    Skies may soar and buildings may fall.

    After all, humans are living to breed and grow.

    With little to no empathy.
    Don't ask a soldier to look at grace.
    For they are trained to follow the instructions for days.

    The truth is not in the shrine.
    The truth was not in the reminiscence of saints.

    But it is, within ourselves.

    To look around, to fight and debate over a piece of earth is a waste.

    For God never told us to kill ourselves.
    But to put faith in Him and leave the rest.

    For Alexander was not The Great because of his conquest.
    For Paul is not remembered because of his early days.
    For our place is not here but elsewhere.

    So to have a voice,
    to think of having a choice—

    Is to waste time hunting for swift flies.

    ©rodney

  • byumbyum 103w

    Late D-day tribute

    #ww2 #pod #normandy #Dday

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    Normandy

    The sea shore
    Eaten up by
    The ocean waves
    And sand goes
    Deeper and deeper
    Into the unknown,
    Eroded by the tides
    Of ocean,
    And time.

    Footprints gone,
    Blood seeps deep
    Into the granules,
    Into the soul
    And the only
    Testament:
    A naked beach
    ©byumbyum

  • israelmgonzalez 126w

    Monte Cassino

    Ain't no winners at Cassino
    The lucky are the dead
    It's all over for them
    Krauts'll put up a fight we know
    But ask for surrender we'll tell 'em no
    1944 - the year where anger burns hottest
    Pile o' dead says assessment is honest
    Like I said, ain't no winners at Cassino
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • israelmgonzalez 126w

    Nuts!

    Winter: 1944-45
    GIs freezin' their nuts off at Bastogne
    Germans comin' on like bees outta their hive
    No hope for resupply
    Weather outside: Frightful
    Morale: Wonderful

    Herr Lüttwitz writes a letter
    "To the American commander:
    Gig's up! Surrender now!
    It's for the better.
    Signed - the German commander"
    "Aww nuts! They got us surrounded"
    Says McAuliffe - then he thinks
    "What else to say?" he thinks
    "To the German commander:
    NUTS!
    Signed - the American commander"

    "Was dost dies mean?" asks Lüttwitz
    "Means 'go to hell' mein general"
    Lüttwitz thinks "Aww nuts"
    The 101st will surely kick our butts
    And so they did
    After seven days of fury
    Nuts!
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • shubhamnath2114 135w

    The millions of innocent lives lost for the indifference of the oppressors shall never be forgotten. Rest in peace.
    #Hiroshima #Fear #WW2

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    The scared build walls
    The wise build tanks
    The fools fire those tanks

    ~Shubham Nath
    ©shubhamnath2114

  • shubhamnath2114 135w

    The millions of innocent lives lost for the indifference of the oppressors shall never be forgotten. Rest in peace.
    #Hiroshima #Fear #WW2

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    The scared build walls
    The wise build tanks
    The fools fire those tanks

    ~Shubham Nath
    ©shubhamnath2114

  • teepeewrites 140w

    Peace in the war

    Taken as a teen to war

    against all odds

    With my gun in hand

    And the courage to stand

    Taken to a foreign land

    Where it all began

    In the midst of the war

    Nature made me love

    The enemy was in front of me

    But all I saw was a helpless woman

    Who made me see peace

    Even in the midst of the war.
    ©teepeewrites

  • israelmgonzalez 142w

    The Return of Hell

    No sight more fearsome than that of the angry Prussian
    Like a loathsome plague he makes his way east
    His pride still injured from the black day at Amiens
    His fury spares not even the least among men

    The Tricolore trampled upon
    The European continent rendered servile
    The Leningrader hungry
    The man with the cigar will never bow

    From the machine guns a rain of death
    From the ghetto unanswered calls for help
    From the clerics complicit silence
    From the new world hope for deliverance

    The apocalypse has come again
    Blood spills profusely
    Fifty million souls sacrificed on the altar of human cruelty
    Fire rains from the heavens

    The time of Jacob's trouble is here
    The largest of pogroms
    His wounds will number six million
    But he will survive find come home again

    Hell is here
    It announced itself with a few shots on Danzig
    The four horsemen just rode into town
    But humanity will survive though scarred forever
    ©israelmgonzalez

  • harshu05 175w

    The sun rays are shining down on the streets of Rotterdam, to be precise piercing through the debris, to strike the blood doused ground. Not more than 23 minutes ago, the Dutch troops had everything under control and were defending their port from the German forces. Buildings were reduced to ashes and the bombings had set the sky ablaze. Human remains were left scattered, thousands were dead in a war they weren't fighting. Amidst the commotion, a lad of 19 years, with cobalt teal colors on his chest was crashed against a collapsed bookstore.The badges on his uniform were slightly visible as the blood gushing out of his arm was drenching him, he could breathe for only a few more minutes. Those around him were all dead, he knew the air in his lungs wouldn't be enough to take him miles in search for help. He was bound to breathe his last, and what broke him more was that he had orders to be delivered to the navy regiments to hold their fire till further directives. The river of Meuse was now in red, he recalled his captain's unwavering words,

    "Till you catch a glimpse of your nation's flag high up in
    the blue yonder, don't let your guard down."

    those words made him want to fight till the last beat. He had no enemy around, no army to fight, no strength to pick himself up, yet he wanted to fight. He was helpless, clutching on to a piece of crippled paper, with most certainty held his last command. No longer could he hear the air raids, or the emergency sirens. He wanted to ask forgiveness, he wanted to apologise to his mum for not being able to return home to take her out to the annual fair, in the nearby town after the war. As a young child, running in his grandpa's barley fields, searching for the perfect apples to take home for the supper's apple pie and listening to the old tales of Lange Wapper were what made him wonder if he could too cross towns in a leap. He wanted to become a baker and start an outlet to make his mum's stroopwafel recipe famous.

    Appointing time:14:30, 8th May 1939, Amsterdam

    were boldly written in the letter, he received just a month after his 18th birthday. He was called to defend his country in the world war 2. He was given a Dutch mannilicher, a service riffle to take down anyone who went against the colors he wore. Horror struck he was, the day he killed a man who tried to save his nation. Though Netherlands was neutral in the war, it didn't stop the Germans from invading, the war became intense and even barracks were attacked. Thousands of civilians dead for the aspirations of a few, who were oceans away from the mayhem.

    *the last bomb was dropped to destroy
    the Dutch naval base*

    The loud thudding of the ground made him shudder and he let out a faint cry. He could feel his body getting stiff and numb, he coughed to let the oozing blood out of his throat. He leaned his head back, his eyesight was fading and a tear rolled down his cheek. His eye caught from afar a group of soldiers running towards the ruins, the heart of the city was in. Slowly a few started running in his way. He clutched the paper tightly in his fist, though it was of no avail, he knew he would discharge the duty he was given. He slowly closed his eyes. A week later, his mum got a letter about her dead son, Ruben who died on 14th May 1940, in an air raid by the Germans on Rotterdam.

    A memorial for those who lost their lives in Rotterdam bombings is found even today in Netherlands. Millions of teens who lost their lives in both the world wars might have had dreams of their own.


    #ruins #ww2 #soilder @paulwrites @alluring_tulip @tomorrow_is_amazing @laughing_soul
    Pc: pinterest

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    Rotterdam

    His eye caught from afar
    a group of soldiers running
    towards the ruins, the heart
    of the city was in.
    ©harshu05

  • sourishofficial 181w

    Enemy at the gates

    As the clouds of smoke swirl through the air,
    The grounds strewn with bodies of martyrs,
    As the earth shakes with the bombs and machines,
    As the heart thumps with the undeniable fate,
    As the fire of metal streaks through the air,
    As the enemy guns shatter the gate,
    As the soldiers fall in the face of the storm,
    As the screams of death resonate in the air,
    As the enemy marches through the blood,
    As the city falls to the might of arms,
    There still lives hope in the hearts of steel,
    There still lives the will to fight till the end,
    There still lives strength to resist the invaders,
    There still lives time to retaliate with vigour,
    There still live heroes willing to fight the tide,
    There still lives a dream of peace someday...
    ©sourishofficial

  • paulwrites 191w

    @_suruchi_ @surreal @watchsaad @parikshagaur903 @nakshatrasuroshi @thesoulgazer @angelicface @_aryasmita_ @eye_of_iris @sreemoyee_

    #orchardhouse #novel #serial #serialnovel #romance #love #couples #lovers #desire #passion #longing #redemption #destiny #fate #drama #romantic #america #music #writer #south #sexy #steamy #countryliving #loneliness #writersnetwork #authors #mirakee #mirakeeworld #readwriteunite
    #farmhouse #appleorchard #photo #war #ww2 #past

    Orchard House & The Heart Of Everything

    Part 32.1: A Portrait In Orchard House

    “That was kind of creepy,” I said, as we made our way back up the path to the house.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, she acts like Orchard House is a living entity with the power to make people fall in love or something.”

    “You don’t believe that a person’s surroundings contributes to how they might feel?” Summer asked.

    “I think a person’s feelings are completely up to that person, not a house.”

    “So if we had met in the city, in a duplex or townhouse surrounded by crowds of people, you would still have danced with me last night?”

    “Well, I don’t know. I would like to think…”

    “If there had been no orchard, no country moonlight, no romantic blues music playing in the air, would you have been compelled to dance, or even kiss me?”

    “Those things set a certain mood, yes, but it’s not why I kissed you.”

    She nodded and took a drink of her soda. “Then why did you kiss me?”

    I stopped. “Why? That’s a silly question.”

    “No it isn’t. Humor me, and answer.”

    I looked around, feeling like I was in the middle of an open courtroom, more than an orchard. I sighed.

    “I kissed you because I like you. We were dancing close, all alone just you and I and the music. I could feel your heart beating, your pulse racing, your breath on me, and all I could think of was, God I want to kiss her. So, I did.”

    She put her hand up and touched my cheek. “Matthew, I’m not putting you on trial. You look so nervous. I just wanted to know, that’s all.“ She got on her tip toes and kissed my forehead. “I needed to know that you kissed me because you wanted to, not because I wanted you to.”

    “Oh, I didn’t realize you wanted me to.”

    She playfully growled at me. “Now you’re on trial, buddy.” Then she kissed me, her tongue playfully running across my lips until I opened my mouth to take her kiss fully within me. Parting minutes later, she said, “but you have been acquitted.” She took my hand. “I may have to keep you under house arrest though.”

    She led me back to Orchard House and for a brief moment I thought of Gunboats and Hope, how it was for them to fall in love with each other during such turbulent times. Their worries were different than ours, and yet their fears were the same. If Summer and I were to endure past the next few days we were going to have to lose that fear, somehow, someway.

    + + + +

    The day was shaping up to be wonderful. Summer was staying, we made out under an apple tree, and now after helping her carry her bags upstairs, she was unpacked. I didn’t go inside her room, that was a girl’s private sanctuary, but instead I set her bags down outside her door and went back downstairs to wait. I put a frozen pizza in the oven for our lunch and stood looking out the window, wondering about Helen’s story and how different this place might have been seventy years ago.

    Here in Orchard House it did seem like you were in another place and time, when life was simpler and something you nurtured, not tumbled headlong into. From the window I could see the white steeple of the country church and thought of how many couples may have been married there over the years. Had Helen’s parents, Gunboats and Hope, tied the knot there? More importantly, would I ever be able to bring myself to wait at the end of an aisle for a woman to come sliding up there in her bridal gown, or had the first one ruined me for that kind of dream?

    “Hey come here,” I heard Summer say from behind me and it brought me out of my reverie. “I found something you have got to see.”

    I followed her upstairs, and at first I thought she was going to lead me into her room, but instead we went around the banisters on the landing and to the bedroom across from Summer’s. Beside the door she stopped and directed my attention to the wall. Hanging there next to the door, as if marking the room for future generations, was a portrait. It was easy to tell the backdrop was Orchard House, still in its pristine original condition. Standing on the front porch, using its steps as a stage, stood a family. At front and center on the first step stood mom and pop. He was wearing farmer’s bibs and had a scowl on his face, though I imagine it was his usual wearied look and not because he was upset. She wore a long dress and an apron, as if she had been interrupted halfway through fixing dinner to come pose for the picture. On the step behind them stood two girls, one dressed as a girl of the times should, the other dressed similar to her father in overalls and a work shirt. The girly one was strikingly beautiful, with her lipstick and hair done up in a bun. The other girl’s hair hung down straight, natural brown curls framing a face that held more mystery than her sister. It was easy to tell who these girls were. Jessica and Hope. In my opinion, I could easily see why Gunboats had taken a shine to Hope. Despite her lack of makeup and feminine attire, she had a natural beauty and charm that shone through even in an old black and white photograph. Behind Hope stood a tall boy in soldier’s uniform. With dark hair and eyes like her, it was apparent this was her brother, for he was making a silly face behind her head. Next to him stood Gunboats. This was also easy to tell because he wore a soldier’s uniform. His hair was pale blond, almost yellow, and he had a chubby face with deep set eyes that were almost aqua blue. He wasn’t looking at the camera though. No, he was looking at Hope, and his eyes betrayed his longing for her, his adoration for the tomboy country girl who wouldn’t love him while there was a war going on.

    “It must have been taken a day or two before they went back to the war,” Summer said. “Look.” She pointed to the blonde soldier. Around his neck you could see it, a chain upon which hung the ring that Hope had refused. Looking closer at the two star crossed lovers, if you wished to call them that in those conservative times, I saw the parallels that maybe Helen was trying to make. The blonde haired blue eyed traveler and the dark haired, dark eyed country girl. If set in a later age, it could have been us.

    “I know,” Summer said, as if knowing what I was thinking. “They were from different worlds, but here they found each other, even if one didn’t want to admit it.”

    “Which one of us doesn’t want to admit it?”

    She smiled. “Good question. What are we not admitting to again?”

    Before I could answer, a sudden realization hit me. “Oh no, the pizza,” I exclaimed.

    TO BE CONTINUED

    Orchard House & The Heart Of Everything
    Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

    Read More

    Orchard House 32.1
    A Portrait In Orchard House


    #orchardhouse

  • paulwrites 191w

    @_suruchi_ @surreal @watchsaad @parikshagaur903 @nakshatrasuroshi @thesoulgazer @angelicface @_aryasmita_ @eye_of_iris @sreemoyee_

    #orchardhouse #novel #serial #serialnovel #romance #love #couples #lovers #desire #passion #longing #redemption #destiny #fate #drama #romantic #america #music #writer #south #sexy #steamy #countryliving #loneliness #writersnetwork #authors #mirakee #mirakeeworld #readwriteunite
    #farmhouse #appleorchard #story #ww2 #war

    Orchard House &The Heart Of Everything

    Part 31.2: Story Of Gunboats & Hope

    Helen was working the register at the front of the store, and being Friday it was a little busier than usual. Still, the older woman spotted us from behind the counter and gave us a nod and smile as she waited on her customers. Summer wandered down an aisle made up of baskets of apples. Each basket held a different variety, and as I came up alongside her and asked her what she was looking for, she wistfully smiled.

    “Just trying to determine which type of apple tree we were making out under.”

    I smiled back and kissed her on the cheek. “Do you want me to ask Helen?” I asked.

    “You better not,” Summer hissed under her breath.

    “Well, hey there, couple who are not a couple,” Helen said, approaching us from across the store. “How goes it today?”

    “Pretty good,“ I said. “We are just out enjoying the orchard on a Friday morning.”

    Helen looked at Summer with one eyebrow raised. “Watch this one girl, I detect friskiness in his voice.”

    Summer laughed. “Oh he’s that, alright.”

    The woman laughed at this and rolled her eyes in my direction. “I don’t know what it is, but this country air is sometimes charged with tomfoolery.” She shrugged. “But that’s okay, if it wasn’t for that, I imagine most of us wouldn’t be here, now would we?”

    I didn’t know if she meant frisky behavior brought us all into the world or whether the reason we were here was to get frisky ourselves. Either way, she may not have been too far off the mark. “I’ll just grab us a soda,” I told Summer and made my way to the drink cooler.

    As I walked off I heard Helen whisper low, “I think I embarrassed the poor fella.”

    I grabbed two drinks out of the cooler and came back over to them. Summer must have broached the subject of paying to stay on an extra couple days. Helen was shaking her head.

    “No doing,“ she was saying. “I told Matthew earlier that it was double occupancy, so couples can stay under one price, and since he has already paid up…”

    “But we’re not a couple,” Summer interrupted.

    “Yes, that’s exactly what he said too.” She smiled at us both. “He was serious about it then, but you’re not now. So keep your money and have fun at Orchard House.”

    “Okay then,” she uncomfortably replied. “Well, thank you.”

    “It’s not like you are the first two who tried to deny their feelings up there,” Helen said. She looked at us closely as if waiting for us to protest, but Summer and I just cast glances at each other as if to silently ask, is this what it is?

    “I guess you didn’t know,“ Helen went on. “Orchard House has a way of bringing people together no matter where they came from or how they was brought up. In fact, my mother met my father there. It wasn’t for rent then. She lived there with her parents, her older sister, and a younger brother. It was a regular farmhouse then, my grandparents had started the orchard and it was young in those days. Her younger brother Sammy was in the war. This was about ’42 or ’43, and he came home with this buddy of his, a fella he called Gunboats. Now right away, they fixed that blond hair, blue eyed soldier boy up with the older sister, Jessica, but the one that boy really had the eye for was my mother, Hope.”

    Helen stopped long enough to make sure there weren’t any customers that needed waiting on and then continued with her story. “Now, Gunboats was staying at Orchard House while the boys were on leave, and it always seemed to everyone, even my grandparents, that he was going to end up proposing to Jessica before they had to go back to England and the war. Problem was, Jessica was the lady type, and prim and proper, all dolled up all the time. She wouldn’t let no boy see her without her being perfectly presentable, if you know what I mean. So, in all the times she made Gunboats wait to see her, he entertained himself by making conversation with Hope, who was to most the tomboy type. She didn’t dress up for nobody, didn’t doll herself up, and was more content going outside and climbing a tree than going to dances.“

    She cast a look at Summer to say she knew which girl she was more like.

    “Needless to say, Gunboats fell so hard for Hope, he ended up proposing to her instead. Of course, that didn’t settle with the doll of the family, and in an effort to get him to change his mind, my grandparents told him he could marry Jessica now or wait until the war was over and marry Hope.”

    The bell over the door jingled, and a couple customers came in. Helen waved to them and then turned back to us. “Care to guess what Gunboats did?”

    Neither of us knew what to say, we were so wrapped up in the story of her parents, so she answered for us.

    “He went and bought a ring for Hope. She wouldn’t wear it though. Said she didn’t want the pain of having him, and then losing him in that awful war. When he asked her to at least be his girl, she wouldn’t do that either. She told him they could be friends while he was away, and if he came back they could court. So, he took that ring he bought, put it on a chain around his neck, and promised her both the ring and he would come back.”

    Summer smiled, and I have to admit it was a nice story, but unfortunately she wasn’t going to finish it. Customers were up at her counter.

    “Tell you what,” she said. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you the rest.” We both gave her a look of disappointment. We wanted the rest now. “I’ll tell you this much. The ring came back before the body did.”

    Helen sauntered off to wait on her customers and Summer gave me this sad look that said she wasn’t looking forward to how the story ended anymore. “I thought it was going to be a pretty love story,“ she said.

    “Yeah me too. Come on, let’s get in line and pay for these.” We went up to the counter, and after a few minutes Helen was ringing us up. She looked at our said faces.

    “Oh don’t have them long faces, you two. Orchard house is about living and loving, not dying and losing. Just do me a favor, tonight when you’re up there, think of Gunboats sleeping on a cot set out in the living room. Around the corner down the hall, Jessica waiting for him to wise up and marry her before the war killed him. And upstairs, Hope, wanting that boy more than anything but not wanting to endure losing him. I think sometimes the fear of losing someone keeps us from loving them. Hope knew that. The house up there knew that. But Gunboats didn’t. He left Orchard House thinking that girl didn’t love him, and it took two years before the house drug him back. But that’s a tale for another time.”

    “Tomorrow?” Summer asked.

    “You bet. Just come see me and I’ll dish the rest.” She smiled. “But before you go, let me give you a piece of advice just in case you get busy and don’t come back for the rest of the story. Don’t either one of you be a Gunboats, thinking the other don’t care. Because you know as well as I do, you can say you’re not a couple, but Orchard house knows you are.”

    She winked and sent us on with our change, a smile, and that damn story of hers bouncing around in our heads.

    TO BE CONTINUED

    Orchard House & The Heart Of Everything
    Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

    Read More

    Orchard House 31.2
    Story Of Gunboats & Hope


    #orchardhouse

  • qadrisufhan 192w



    Let our hearts be as strong as the hope of last soldier on war.

    ©thedejectedpoet

  • paulwrites 211w

    #letter #correspondence #war #wartime #ww2 #poem #poetry #verse #ballad #thepoetrycommunity #writersnetwork #poetsofmirakee #poets #rhymingverse


    “Dear Miss Sarah Lynne”


    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

    I hope this letter finds you well,

    Sometimes it’s not easy to write

    As I’m sure you can tell;

    I hope mom and dad are doing fine

    And the farm is coming along,

    The thought of it makes me think of home

    Or a sweet old country song.


    How’s little Steffie’s braces fit?

    Tell her don’t worry they’ll come off soon,

    And all the boys will notice her

    As if she’s the only girl in the room;

    I imagine it must be summertime

    The nights here are pretty cold,

    And sometimes the fellas just sit around

    Wishing for someone to hold.


    Did daddy’s crops come in good this year?

    How’s mama coming with that quilt?

    Is grandpa still tinkering on that car

    The one he swore up and down he built?

    And how are you doing Sarah?

    I’ve been looking at your picture for days,

    As the bombs go off all around me

    I sometimes wish myself away.


    I know that I’ve never met you

    And it’s possible that I never will,

    But when I imagine you’re my girlfriend

    It helps me out here in the fields;

    I don’t know how to tell you this

    But I guess the truth is best,

    I haven’t much words of comfort

    Except to say he loved you best.


    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

    I regret to inform you this way,

    But your brother died in battle

    And he was buried here yesterday;

    He gave me your picture

    And asked me to take the time to write,

    In his last moments he told me all about his kin

    And the fading of the light.


    I’m so very sorry for your loss

    I wish there was more I could say,

    But I’m only a farm boy myself

    Just trying to get through each day;

    I was wondering if I make it through this

    If it would be okay to come and call,

    By then this picture may be long faded

    But I won’t forget your face at all.


    I guess I should be going now

    Soon we’ll be shipping out again,

    But I just wanted you to know

    Your brother was a hero unto the end;

    Please pray for me and the other guys

    Sometimes out here we feel so alone,

    For we’re all someone’s sons and brothers

    Just dreaming of that place called home.



    By Paul D Aronson

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    Dear Miss Sarah Lynne

  • shrivatsa 223w

    Not a Propaganda nor I'm glorifying the Nazis. This just a piece for SS Veterans.
    88
    #soldiers #dark #war #worldwar #german #ss #Wehrmacht #worldwar2 #ww2 #kreig #Veterans #memories

    Read More

    We stood against the tide
    For our people and for our pride,
    Fought 'til the end of the time
    World would turn blind and will deny,
    We have no regrets and no apologies
    All we have is just a glimpse of sweet memories,

    For the Fatherland we fought
    For the Führer, we shelled!
    Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust
    The waves of enemies, We Crushed!
    Blitzkrieg we had unleashed!
    Eastern europe started to Bleed!
    We shed the blood of traitors!
    We were the Last Gladiators, The Annihilators.

    Some will curse us, some will praise us!
    The enemies, they will fear us
    We'll be remembered as the Murderers!
    But in the name of Democracy and Peace they Murdered us,
    We have no remorses,
    All we left for them is millions of corpses.
    ⚡⚡



    ©shrivatsa