Poetry by Todd Randolph

England on the Sea

Defend both King and country, bring honor to your name,
Strike true and with God’s will sail home under fame.

To war the cries call out to them; battle on ‘til none survive.
Cannons fire from starboard, crews reload against the tide.

The outcome of the conflict for all is still uncertain.
The sails fall to the wind, as at the final curtain.

The men all sallied forth, taking battle to the foe.
The results are still unknown; there is no way to know.

Men cry out in agony, each Captain tries to gain,
Advantage on the other, as ships toss on the Main.

Which Captain can claim victory, what crew will be the brave?
The ships begin to rise, and crest upon the wave.

The battle now has ended, enemy captain stumbles toward,
The victor, as he yields to him, his ship, his spoils, his sword.


Hallowed Ground

A flag is draped upon the box, which is to be his home.
His mother cries, his dad stands tall, he lies there not alone.
Around him lay the Mighty, fallen one by one.
Unquestioned is their honor, saluted by the gun.

Some here with a record, of service long and proud.
Their comrades call the roll, shout the names out loud.
Their deeds of valor noted, by the medals on their chest.
They sleep the sleep of warriors, as they lie at rest.

Duty to their country brought them to this place.
They are among the honored, in their final resting space.
Victories in battle, courage edged with pride.
Unmatched are deeds of fighting men, whose mothers all have cried.

In this place of tribute he’s with soldiers ‘neath the ground.
Next to those who died in war, but always honor bound.
Fighting for the nation, so that all who live are free.
Takes special men, doing special deeds, to keep our Liberty.

Dedicated to the fallen, and my friend,
Andy Flores USMC


Battle for Freedom

A sword drawn For Scotland,
Scotland is our soul

Hike the moor and mountain peth
Raise the cry of war

Heed not the call, and be nae son of mine
Clans gather, as cries of war ride upon the wind

By loch and by sea they come in name
Colors fly, banners high, bright and snapping

The wind bites, cold hardens the hearts of warriors
Draw your sword the battle is nigh, the enemy trembles

Trumpet sounds herald the clash,
Charge forth, as in the days of yore

Strike hard and fast for freedom has a price
Die this day, and live forever in legends

Falter not, or know your kinsman’s wrath
Sheath not the sword ‘Til dimmed by the blood of victory

Baby family 063Todd has a fascination with words and stories.  His poetry comes to him in quick bursts, inspired by everything around him. He loves to rhyme, or write in a prose when the mood strikes. He is hopeful his poetry tells a story or strikes a chord within the reader.


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