Cuyler Callahan's Official Home Page

I sat here, this Sunday evening, speculating on what to write about. I have a lot of content sitting on my computer, which I will slowly over time post on this site, but I need to post new stuff. I need to write right now, and keep my muse up. I thought of any experience I could write about. What is there from my life that I could write on? Do I want to write an essay, a thoughtful article, or a poem? What I wrote fit best into poetic form. It is a love story. It is my love story. About my last love and me, having to part ways. I think it is a good poem, and worth putting into words. I think it reads a little bumpy though. I was trying a new way to write the poem, with the last word in the first and last line of each stanza being the same. Either way, I still think it turned out well.

I hope you enjoy,

Cuyler Callahan

*******************************************************************************************

A Sad Love Story

They met through friends
They fell much in love
They got along well
Never fight, forever friends

She came from far away
He, born of this land
She would have to leave
Both knew far far away

Faster time came unwanted,
for separate ways to part
A soldier, his land desired
Parting, they greatly unwanted.

One last night, together spent
His train then carried him away
Out of site, he cried tell sleep
Wiping her tears, she time spent

He called when duty allowed
when digging trenches seized
She happy to hear his voice,
wished together they be allowed

Both dreamed not to let go,
both knew it not possible
She from a far away country,
He a soldier, to chained to go

Slowly reality took hold
He barely, his grip let go
She away, let grasp slip
Dreams slowly off hold

She is cross ocean, home again
He is afar cross country land
Daily fleets she cross his mind
He has let go, It’ll never be again

This is one of the original poems that I wrote. One of my first. I wrote this poem back in 2004 or 2005. It it one of my oldest poems. At the time I thought this was the perfect reflection of a good adventure story.

Adventure

In the inn
Dimly lit
Men sit
In the pub

Sipping ale to ward of cold
Winter wind huff and puff
Success is not their answer

Candles flicker in the halls
Sleeping men are blue with the night
Lanterns burn along the pub wall

Light dancing with shadow
Sounds of laughter
Silence of sleeping

Adventure

I wrote this poem I think like 2 years ago while I was still in school. I believe I was in Grade 12 at the time.

A Pawn To Our Country

A man is chained to his country
A pawn for his deity
Loyal by birth
No choice to choose his earth

Old men govern him
Laws restrict him
He fights for his nation
His state fights for its leaders

The art of war no longer deans
Chivalry has died with the sword
Far away with guns and machines
Along goes the romance of the fur dressed Nord

Off away for industry,
Doth men die
Profits to be made
Ca-ching rolls leaders eyes

Investment, profits,
Worth more then life
A few corrupt govern all,
By no mans choice does he serve

In God we trust, always trust,
For mens love cannot be found.

Cuyler Callahan

This is a poem I wrote back in May. I wrote it on the birthday of the EME branch of the Canadian Forces. I came back from the party, a little drunk, and sun burned. I wrote this poem then. I hope you enjoy.

Bordem in Borden

I’m so bored, very bored,
all my friends have left.
Here in ol’ CFB Borden
I’m sitting all alone, deft

I got drunk today
Got paid to drink
Army is sweet hey
You get paid to drink

EME Trades all rock
without us no others live
We drink off our socks
And then we work to give

awaiting training is long
I’ll be here tell I stew
“Sargent, I want a bong”
“PRIVATE I’LL DRILL YOU!”

MY mind has turned to gush
I smoke a lot of cigs
The food in the mess is mush
Drinking is our digs

They like to run us lots
its all they make us do
they don’t call the shots
that’s the high ranks who

we all just fuck Miss Jill
weekly we do her a dozen
It’s all we got but still,
she’s like our damn cousin

The admin is herocious
I don’t know what is up
I’m starting to get ferocious
They better where a cup

But at least I have an occupation
I have given up much of me
I’m not okay, this lack of preoccupation,
At least I’m getting money

FUCK PRETC!!

Private Callahan C.D
Stationed CFB Borden

15 May 09

By the way PRETC is a type of PAT Platoon. PAT stands for Persons Awaiting Training. PRETC stands for Post Recruit Education Training Center. It’s the same thing, and in both, you go there to rot away until you get on your courses.

I hope you enjoyed.