They Call Me The "Cheetah"

~POETRY BY: WILLIE FLANAGAN~ FOR TWENTY EIGHT LONG YEARS WHILE SERVING IN THE MILITARY, BEGINNING WITH WW11, THRU ALL THE OTHER WARS, WRITING POETRY WAS A WAY TO CONQUER MY STRESS AS I WITNESSED MANY WAR COMRADES LOOSE THEIR LIVES OR WOUNDED IN MANY OF THE BATTLES. THIS WAS A VERY IMPORTANT PART OF MY LIFE AND I WOULD NOT CHANGE IT FOR ANYTHING. IT WAS ALSO MY FAITH IN GOD THAT BROUGHT ME HOME. I WAS ASKED BY SOMEONE TO LET THEM READ SOME OF MY POETRY, THEY LIKED IT AND WANTED TO SHARE SOME WITH YOU. WITH MY PERMISSION GIVEN, I HOPE YOU WILL ENJOY READING THEM ALSO. THANK YOU, WILLIE FLANAGAN

"WALKING DOWN THE HIGHWAY" Walking down the highway        With my shoulder bag         Hair to my shoulders         Dressed all in rags         I'm no misfit or a tramp         Just looking for a place to rest and camp.          Looking for a place to rest and camp         I'm a long way from home         No one to call me their own         Have no money, have no kin         No one to bother to take me in          Not the way I look or dressed         Looking for a place where I can rest         Cause no one any trouble, do no one any harm         Just walking the highway         A place I call home, the highway is my home         No one seems to care, what happens to me         If it wasn't for my hair and rags         A man I would be         But, I'll continue walking the highway            With my shoulder bag          Hair to my shoulders          Dressed all in rags          Looking for the place, God has set aside for me. Note: (I wote this after I saw a man hitch-hiking dressed like this while I was in a military convoy.) © Wilie Flanagan

"The Visitor"                      Heard a knock upon the door            A bearded man stood, so weak            He asked, if I had a bite to eat?            I noticed the holes in His hands                             and feet.            Asked Him in, to sit by the fire            He replied, I would rather stay out-side            I said no, You come on in            There's plenty of room, at this old inn.             We broke bread together, had something to eat             Talked for awhile, as He warmed His feet.              I asked, will You not stay till dawn?               Said He had a-ways to go and must trod on.             Stop in, if You return this way             He replied, I just might, some                   other day.                              The moral of this story, never turn anyone away~~                It just might be Jesus, coming home to stay.             © Willie Flanagan

"House Where I lived"                 I remember, I remember                The house where I lived                Little windows where the sun                Came peeping in at dawn                Shattering walls were so thin                When it stormed, the rain                                         poured in                Put pots and pans under the                                       drips               Hearing the pings in my sleep               I'll be glad when this night ends               Hoping tomorrow will be a better                                     morn.                In Winter, the wind blew cold                   with ease                With visions of snow flakes in my                   head                 Hearing the raps of sleet upon                   the stovepipe                  Wind whistling through the tape-                   covered window panes                   Curled upon the wooden floor in                   front of a big fireplace                   Next to Daddy in his favorite                   rocking chair                           Soon he would sat me on his lap              Rocking and telling stories of              long ago              I drift off to dream-land              Where I will be and sound              In the house where I lived.. Author: © Willie Flanagan

~~Forgotten Heroes~~   There's a place in Southeast Asia, a      a country called Korea   Where men fought and died, for three      long miserable years   In Summers we burnt up, Winters we      froze and the rains were terrible as we      all know   We fought from Old Baldy, Heartbreak      Ridge to Pork Chop Hill   No one knowing the hell we went through  Today no one remembers us, I think           that's a shame  Our government or the media never           mentions our name  We're the "Forgotten Heroes" and no one           gives a damn  And we who served there, never ask for           a thing.  But, God knows we fought with pride to           give other' peace and rest.   So I ask, did those who served and died,     do this all in vain?   If not, then let our country - "REMEMBER      OUR NAMES." Author: © Willie Flanagan

~~Being Alone~~         I took to the highway one morning     With my Bible, backpack and harp     Rest of my belonging wasn't worth                   taking along     Have no company, just me alone     Stopped at a rest site, to fix a bite                   to eat     Then with blues harp in hand played                   a tune of sadness     Read from the Bible before going to                   sleep     Then asking God to protect me.     Upon waking the next morning     A surprise greeted me     There was a puppy laid at my feet     God had brought a joy to me     I fixed us both something to eat     Before heading to some unknown     We became close companions as we                     trod on together.     She grew bigger ond older each day     Then one night, God took her to a                     new and better highway.      I'm still on the highway, me alone      Asking God for another companion                     out of the night      To walk the highway with my Bible,                     backpack, harp and me. Author: © Willie Flanagan

Memory of my Golden Retriever - Bree         August 29, 1985 - March 6, 1996               Bree and the Yellow Rose                     The last yellow rose of Summer            Left blooming alone            Her lovely companion - Bree            Is also gone             Bree's love was the yellow rose            That bloomed in June            She smelled the yellow rose, each             morning and noon             After Bree's death            The yellow rose bloomed, but once                               more            I have neither to care for now            Both are at peace with the Lord. Author: © Willie Flanagan

~~VISIT FROM THE LORD~~ After going to bed, saying my Prayers~     Dear Lord, I asked don't let me see                 tomorrow,     Heard a voice so soft and sweet     This is the Lord speaking, I could have       answered your Prayers many times.     You haven't lived your life as it was                 meant to be,     So I've let you live - as you mean so                 much to me.     Felt a hand on my shoulder and pull me                 close,    It was something I've never felt before.     The Lord said follow Me, there are                 things I want you to see     Such as the sick, people in wheelchairs                 and the evil in this world.     There is also happiness, pleasure and           to love all without prejudice.      The Lord said, if you try your best to       live as I say...        There's a lot to live for and not your          time to be taken away.        You'll have eternal life and peace for          ever more~~~        The Lord said, farewell now, but I will          be with you everyday. !!!        When I awoke, I knew I had been          dreaming.        But, my hand brushed something on the          pillow next to me,        I looked and saw a dove of peace.     It wasn't a dream after all - for the                 Lord had visited me.     To this day, I try my best to walk with              Him in His light. AUTHOR: © WILLIE FLANAGAN

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