Sharing The Sarge

Updated 8 December 2025

The Sarge Poems

Red Skies On Seven December

To the Congress of the United States:

Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 -

a date which will live in infamy...

Red morning sun rises

slowly over a sleeping bay.

War ships languish at anchor

The United States was at peace with

and, at the solicitation of Japan,

was still in conversation with the government

and its emperor looking toward the maintenance

of peace in the Pacific.

The world would change

with the rising of a red sun

casting a long shadow.

The Japanese ambassador to the United States

delivered to the Secretary of State

a formal reply to a recent American message.

This reply stated that it seemed

useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations.

It contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack.

Bombs. Fire. Death. Destruction.

Torpedoes falling, guns blazing.

Red blood upon the Pacific.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan

makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned

many days or even weeks ago.

The grounds shake with explosion

as people scramble

to escape, to defend

to live a moment longer

in the red morning light.

The attack on the Hawaiian islands

has caused severe damage

to American naval and military forces.

Very many lives have been lost.

The world turns on,

painting a different picture

of that December day.

For some, America was innocent,

for some her hands washed in red blood.

The facts of yesterday speak for themselves.

The people of the United States

have already formed their opinions

and well understand the implications

to the very life and safety of our nation.

Red morning sun rises

slowly over another day.

War seems such a way of life

that it's easy to forget

this tragedy after 67 years.

We will not only defend ourselves,

but will make very certain

this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.

Hostilities exist.

There is no blinking at this fact;

our people are in grave danger.

Red And Gold Flower

There is a wealth of passion and power

in one little red and gold flower.

In the trenches they lived and died.

Above in the sun, shells cried,

whined, deadly missiles that flew

through the skies of soft blue,

to land in the field of flowers.

In wars, minutes become hours,

as doughboys pray to survive

in any manner they can contrive.

For a small price I buy a souvenir

from the Veterans as I do every year.

I pinned a little poppy of fabric,

nothing gaudy, loud, or eccentric,

to my daughter's jacket lapel,

And told her the tragic story well.

How men died ninety years ago,

in fields where the poppies grow,

waving in a summer breeze still.

I hope to God they always will.

The weeks and years have marched on,

like legions of warriors now gone.

They gave their lives in The War,

to prove we needed to kill no more.

In the quiet green fields of France

stand white graves and poppy plants,

one stark, one bright; side by side

a silent testament to those who died.

In one little red and gold flower,

There is a wealth of passion and power.

What Say You?

Lou Marin, a Christian grateful for Jesus’ gift to him, was born and raised in the western hills of Maine, then spent 20 plus years wandering the country and world in the United States Air Force. He holds various positions in local, district and the Maine Department of American Legion, and The American Red Cross. He is a photographer and stringer for The Maine Trust for Local News, published poet and short story writer who pens faith based devotionals. He lives in Rumford, Maine. He is author of an anthology of poems based upon his military career entitled “Dimly Seen Through The Mists,” and a book of faith based poems entitled “My Lighthouse In Troubled Times.”