Author Information
THE OLD "NEW" STUFF
Correspondent Poem to .DOVER BEACH`, Matthew Arnold
.
.
.
As Mr. Arnold:
1st section: 14-line French Sonnet,
irregular rhyme-scheme, 3/4/4/3.
2d section: Sestet, Homeric epic tri-couplet, 2/2/2.
3d section: English Sonnet, with 5-line Coda v. couplet, last line an echo of the poem's first.
.
.
.
Southern Beach
(1)
Victorious Warrior,
more furious than battle-scare,
quietly reigns, yet gives no balm for sore
and gnawing guilt, not even for awhile.
Highland Princesses, water-color Au Dais:
come! COME!! Inhale with me this sweet night's air!
Come and tempt me, little "ceurvette"!
"Moon" and "Sun" at Red Beach beguiled
with hours of "Peace", Love's cousins.
Then rivulets, crimson, flow from Hate's blows.
Etched images. Kodachrome trials.
Those awful mists of war and death still hiss!
The "hero" in "survivor's guilt" knows
just how really eternal "sad" is.
(1a.) Offered as explanation:
Victor, your true Respite reach,
and stasis find where Life lives full
within your mind; your heart's Heart find Peace
you thought had flown; such Peace its own reward.
It lights your tranquil path . Burgeoning vastness
pours! POURS !! , filling Life's sweet night air so full
and cool and free from badness !!
But not free long enough to flee
far enough to remain free,
for sudden Anguish talons this message ::
" ALL must be avoided
which brings memories of these Young Deaths !! "
( Minds lie to themselves in failed efforts
to avoid such terminal sadness. )
(2)
"Warriors go home" I know,
and memories, MEMORIES we shall bring!
Oh!, of panic, of victories, of war's ebb and flow;
of tenderest loves, pitched in Primeval pathos.
We'll come home (with parts of us unseen);
the waves tell me I'll never feel more loss.
(3)
Inhaled by Fate
into her labyrinth we sailed, on hopes:
"I'll be a lucky one and I'll go home!"
Then, "The Storm Before Calm"!
"Dover Beach", "China Beach", "Westmoreland's Beach!"
Fate threw and impaled us
on stakes erected by Treaty and bomb.
All of us! Strung out! Each ALONE!
"Ah, love! Yes! Let's love true!"
Sans oaths, words written: we have life to share,
hopes to claim, which promise us : : "ENDLESS, there!"
These sighing, crying words on soft winds blew: :
(Life, ours, we'd make Love last, and ever care)
"WILL YOU LOVE ME, TOMORROW?'...her words cried.
And, 'though there came no answer, yet we tried.
Rest here: safe from all Furies, nothing calmer;
this mind-grave of the tired warrior.
++ The Road Not Taken) .The Heart`s Way, Seldom Taken.
.
.
Two hearts converged, each in mellow mood.
(How strange that Fate had prepared them both
to be open and fully prepared to see the good
of what may live where once loss had stood.)
Now Gain lives in that place, with Truth.
Each loves the other; mutual trust their crown.
Lush joys live when true love once is shared.
The uplifting grandeur of Grace is purest known.
Beauty's soul-refining powers have been shown;
the ardor-inspiring potents of Grace we've shared.
No "proud" heart here; but "true" heart, "pure" heart.
One is mine, one is hers: as same-heart now we live.
Her tender heart, soft heart, once sadly torn apart,
still seeks for Love's refuge and new reason to start;
so I accept hers, and mine brings nothing to deceive.
I shall fondly be telling this, in my latest words,
how her fullest meaning fulfils all of my intents.
Two hearts converged, lives touched, and moods.
Thus, now both are singing as one, in ringing chords:
"Your Heart Has Made All Of My Life's Difference!"
++......T..H..E......W..A..L..L.......
.
.
.
.
.
ALL WE ARE IS OUR PAST.
..WE...HAVE...NO...FUTURES..
Who will tell of OUR stories,
we whose names are in this rock?
That gash in Time and Space,
reminder of that black hole
that sucked us all in.
Like a leprous wound,
oozing death out,
suppurating pain and loss.
We paid.
And paid.
And still pay!
More than any price
of some piece of granite.
No rock can assuage a hurting mind.
You see names; I hear cries.
You see stone; I see shredded dreams,
bloodied flak-jackets, ruined lives.
And we all prayed this prayer
at one time or another::
O, Death!,
if you DO come
in your inevitableness,
please, PLEASE grant a warrior
his one last wish::
come in gentleness!!
Let me die unafraid!!!
++ZERO Sonnet, an introduction.
"On The Dying Of Elizabeth Barrett Browning"
(Note on the format of Miss Barrett's Sonnets:
For very personal reasons and also for more challenge,
I shall vary from Elizabeth's unvarying rhyme-scheme of
ABBA ABBA CDCDCD.
This often has been labeled "Italian", or "Pertrarcan",
since these sonnets were written in that locale,
or harkening to Mr. Petrarca's forms.
Then upon analytical reading of Theocritus' sonnets,
which inspired Elizabeth to compose this series,
which begins with a sonnet involving Theocritus,
one finds that the universal rhyme-scheme of each of
Theocritus' Greek-to-English translators was
.....ABBA ABBA CDCDCD.....
( See Theocritus' Epigrams; #V, SYLVAN;
#IX, CLEONICOS; #XVIII, CLEITA;
#XXI, HIPPONAX; ET AL.
All as translated by E.C. LeFroy. )
It is hardly then coincidence
that Elizabeth as adopted
this formal Greek Sonnet-scheme
into her own love-songs for Robert.
We are the richer for her constrictions in the form;
for her to reach such intoxicating heights
of inspiration and execution
has set a bench-mark for succeeding authors,
never to be surpassed.
One may only hope to know (or to imagine)
the heights to which her words raised Robert,
as he read them. In his first letter to Elizabeth
he remarked that he "loved your sonnets."
Only towards the end of that first letter
did he admit :
"...and I love you."
"Sonnet # Zero"
[Inspiration from Encyclopedia Britannica:
....Robert visited her on her death-bed.
Seeing her condition, he raised her to his shoulder,
whereupon she repeatedly kissed him.
A few moments later she died---
Robert's words : "...smilingly, happily,
and with a face like a young girl's...." .
She is buried in Florence.
After Robert died, he also was buried in Florence.]
(Speaks Elizabeth):
The time of my End-time is now here, Oh!
Oh, let me kiss you again and again, Dear, Oh!
One kiss, and 100, and one-thousand-hundreds, Oh!
Hold me in the hollow where pulse & breath are kindred. Oh!
(Speaks Robert):
Our sweet together-life seems passed like brief dreaming, Oh!
My "Portuguese" isn't dying, but wakening on a coil lovelier, unending, Oh!
I shall ache to come to you; into Peace we know awaits us there, Oh!
We shall rest then, together in Origin of Happiness and Dreams so fair, Oh!
(Speaks their Muse
while Elizabeth's soul and Robert's heart
pause, between heaven and earth;
the couplet intentionally placed here
a la Theocritus):
"There are answers that are unquestioned,
although your hearts may ask, true; *
destinations planned or unplanned
await Love's journey-task, true!" **
(Speaks Elizabeth):
"Oh, press me, my Robert! Preserve me in death!
Like fallen petals, fragrant ever, keep my living breath!"
(Speaks Robert):
"Oh, never shall men forget thee, my Portuguese;
my words preserve thy love and mine, 'til all language cease!"
((Notes:
* Elizabeth wonders how Robert could REALLY be in love with her.
** : The life they knew together was MORE than even Love could dream of.))
(I deliberately exchanged the word "Oh!" from end-sentence to begin-sentence in last quatrain for the effect of their breathing it at her last.)
++5 . 27 My Daily Dose Of Philosophy
.
.
.
.
( WAKA pair )
Gratitude To Friends
will show in humility
as mutely I stand
before you, my heart-in-hand,
thanking you, my dear blessers.
Your most kindly act
in love, in truth, and in fact
is what has changed me.
It is what will multiply
in my action to MORE friends.
Son : : : :
Son, Success should be thus measured:
NOT by activity, influence, or wealth;
but by soul-Peace, friends'-love, and rich health.
The dimension of the former
CANNOT be heart's real pleasure,
and gaining the latter
is a reward not even Time can sever.
My Muse:
(a Hokku)
Your gentle, chaste loves,
your authentic, pure kindness
teach true self-worth and meaning.
Defining me:
I am a poet and writer; when I am performing or reading my work I do not like to be interrupted!(except by applause!!)
Values And Virtues:
SENRYU for YOU!
(A Senryu series : :
In your comments,
please add your own
7/7 completion
to any or all of these
Hokku,
thus making yourselves
a part of an endless poem-set)
BEFORE THE YOUNG DAWN
THE SONG OF THE BIRD OF FAITH
CAN BE CLEARLY HEARD!
.
.
~ ~ ~
Under the dark clouds,
despite chill mem'ry of Night,
and o'er Night's despair.
.
.
~ ~ ~
Sing to the young Dawn!
Sing my heart into new light!!
Sing Hope to my soul!!!
.
.
TASKING:
(Waka)
Ultimately, Life
is a journey done by one;
There come diversions:
suns will rise, and shine, and set;
through rain, wind, snow: LIVE FOR LIFE!
Define me:
(a crude nonet, on base-seven)
This
is my
defining
of Happiness;
finding one true place,
best place for stewardship--
taking time for occasions
to be used as the person
God made you to be; then
filling that place and
using those times
with God's pure
Love and
Joy.
True Wisdom:
-What I've learned from others' mistakes
I can remember, polish, hone, and perfect.
And, then, through my own efforts
I can re-do them all AS MY OWN MISTAKES!
True Purpose:
(Waka)
They say "Money talks!";
well, I'm interested LESS
in "Money" than its
"Audience"!, which is list'ning!
the "message" can make ME RICH!
-If what you are doing now
makes you joyful and fulfilled,
KEEP DOING IT!
If what you are doing now
does NOT make you joyful and fulfilled,
STOP, and learn how to do something ELSE!
-A tree cannot control what it shades.
-In our converstion,
the soft silences and pregnant pauses
are just as important as are any of our words.
In those silences we hone and meld our thoughts
into words of mutual benefit and upbuilding.
-A friend savors the morsel of each thought
before serving it to a friend as a word-gem.
-Love's fragile candle can be snuffed out by envy,
leaving only the bitter smoke of loneliness.
-To hearts that inhale love and exhale acceptance;
to hearts that throb with dreams and thrive on challenges,
NOTHING is impossible except defeat!! DREAM with ME!!
- TOMORROW, another day....
++.
.
Haiku:
Restrictions free me
by them forcing me to see
new freedoms and lights.
SON ::
( a 7/7/5/5/7/7/5 TANKA)
Stive to make an "always place"
in the hearts of friends of yours,
by helping remove
a few useless things,
and then building connections
between your abilities
and their need of love.
To my Muse :
Defining me:
Value / Virtue: (HAIKU trio, or a Sonnet)
TASKING : (A continuing SENRYU)
Life-defined:
True Wisdom:
True Purpose:
Final sweetness: (HAIKU / SENRYU)
ADMITTANCE PASSWORDS
.
.
Over 3000 years ago,
as best my Bartlett's tells me,
a Latin phrase was applied
to all the Warriors,
regardless of nation,
who had faithfully served
their own nations in the striving
to bring Liberty to all nations.
This little dialog about
a scene enacted in my mind's eye
in Heaven, is about one lone
Warrior who confronts Saint Peter
at the Heavenly gates.
I hope you take it as intended:
a tribute to ALL the Warriors,
not a tribute to ANY wars: : )
Saint Peter was directing traffic,
up, or down, just outside the Pearly Gates.
In his arm he cradled a very large, very ancient book. It was THE BOOK.
It was labeled "THE BOOK OF DEEDS",
and Saint Peter was simply asking "Name?" of all who came by him. Then he would look into THE BOOK, scan his finger down the pages and make a simple gesture with his hand:
"up", or "down".
Along comes Tired Warrior, having finally made it up the Gates Where Time Is Not. Saint Peter says to him "Name?" Tired Warrior pops-to, and in a commanding voice shouts "Sir! Joe F. Grunt, Sir! Service number 01232003, Sir!"
Saint Pete rocks back on his heels a half-pace at this response, then he closes THE BOOK he has been holding, looks Joe F. Grunt, Tired Warrior straight in the eyes, breathes in, breathes out, and says "So, Joe F. Grunt, you are here at last, and after so MANY close-calls that would have brought you here much sooner!"
"Sir! Yes Sir! I'm here now! Sir!"
Saint Peter reaches deep inside his robes, and draws up and out a much smaller volume, labeled THE OTHER BOOK, but even more ancient than THE BOOK, and with a dark, deep red cover, bright like blood. He scans the entries in it from 3,000 B.C. up to the latest (this doesn't take any Time at all, since it is in eternity.)
The entries in it from thousands of years ago, right up to today, all had the same inscription after them. An indication of each Warrior's Dedication and Fidelity to Honor and Liberty, all recorded in the same ancient, and soft language.
Saint Peter scans right up to the latest entry, slowly and like he is remembering each and every entry and the reasons for the same inscription which follows every name.
"Here it is : Joe F. Grunt, a Warrior!", all the while still looking Joe F. Grunt right in the eyes. Joe again pops-to "Sir! Yes Sir!". Pete smiles at Joe, and tells him "Joe, welcome in to Paradise; you've survived enough Hells in your times on earth", and he reads the inscription after Joe's name, the same one that is after all the other Warrior-names, listed after they fell in defense of Liberty and Freedom: "Joe F Grunt!, SEMPER FIDELIS!"
"SIR! SEMPER FI! YES SIR!!"
++Any act of Love,
sincere and truly heart-felt,
carries Love's reward:
life fill'd with Love's devotion;
heart spreading Love's emotion!
++
A Shakespearean 12-line Sonnet (after his . 126. .O thou, my lovely boy.)~~~~~Reminiscence D`un coeur, chaud et seul.
.
.
.
"O Lovely Lady of Time" : :
Oh, take all those regrets,
wind them in Life's silver cords,
bind them in Remembrance's sweetest,
and convert them into Love's highest words:
even after such desertion,
after Envy's awful assertion,
the very best of Life is ours
(who are true Life-Lovers):
no treachery makes us hate,
nor lies make US untrue.
This Truth I will e'er relate:
the gall of past is sweet, now, with you!
++
AT THE DAWN WITH GOD
(A Sonnet with extend in couplet)
The blood of this day's dawn
by God's own Natural Sword drawn,
flows to me, invigorating!
In heart's-pulse revitalizing!
God has sent this pure flow,
a transfusion, to earth below;
a stream flowing over all the earth
giving dreams their hope and birth!
This morning sun is His;
this day, my life----ALL His!
All that I will, BE it His!
And my gains and my losses;
my hope of vain-glory,
my whole life and story
be His and His only:
. . . . . I am HIS!!
++
Backwards! You Liberal Christan Soldiers!.
( To the tune "Onward, Christian Soldiers" )
"Backwards!, liberal christian soldiers!
It's a pic-nic, NOT a war!
Preach: No cross, no Jesus!
What were they good for?
Expediency is our master,
don't call sin a foe.
Backwards, run from battle;
if God calls, don't go!"
Chorus: "Awkward, liberal christan soldiers,
running from God's call;
BACKWARDS, sisters, brothers;
don't make waves, at all!"
Verse 1
"Use no words like 'army',
It's intolerant to say 'One God':
'Brethern' leaves the gals out,
folks cringe at the word 'blood'!
O, let not 'truth' divide us,
ALL WAYS may be true!
I'll take the 'truth' I need to,
and leave your 'truth' to you.
Chorus
verse 2
Preach 'One World!', not 'Jesus',
all faiths have their claim.
Jesus was a real bigot,
His disciples were the same!
'Higher Christian Experience'
sounds a bit too intolerant;
gods must accept all peoples,
saint or sycophant!
Chorus
verse 3
Backwards then, chameleons,
hide in 'inclusiveness'.
Redefine 'redemption',
banish 'righteousness'.
Glory, laud and honor
are not for God alone:
man's works are man's savior,
'Good Deeds' shall atone!
Chorus
verse 4
Come, liberal christian soldiers,
let's attack the weak,
let's confuse the Faithful
with theological double-speak!
Lean on pop-psychology,
delete God's Works of Grace!
Tread down the Holy Spirit,
rise to spit in Jesus' face!
Chorus
++
LOVE is the Genius;
LOVING is Genius' Art;
LOVERS! the Artists!
My pallet your brush explored!
A man could not dream of more!
++
BUTTERFLY
I watch you watch me.
Your glance is my caress:
"Breeze On The Leaf Stirs The Root."
Do you know your power?
You possess a strength
as "simple" as a nova!!
That two so far apart
should love so close-at-hand
is Love's sweetest mystery!
My chrysallis was o'er-spun
long before we two met
though I was ALWAYS yours!
Now the cocoon parts at touch
as the tender being emerges,
longing for finger-prints
impressed into its sweat!!
++
. Freedom TANKA
The Heart's wide spaces
spread to the Earth's far courses;
Love's sweet resources!
(This is how it felt, that day,
I THOUGHT Viet Nam went away!)
++
Cookies
How can I love you so instantaneously!?
It seems a though there was a place
here in me already prepared, waiting!
This longing seems as old as the stars,
and just as hard to reach, and quell!
The "you-shaped" place in me waits!
++
CRIPPLE
.
.
.
.
If you meet a cripple,
and you begin to talk of crutches,
and of miracles and cures and taxes
and tax-exempt foundations and donations,
then you are probably a mere POLITICIAN.
If you meet a cripple,
and you never glance down,
and you never mention "pain",
and "feet" is never in your conversation,
and your pace instantly is based on another's,
then you may be considered to be a real DIPLOMAT.
If you meet a cripple,
and your heart begins to break,
and your body feels another's ache,
and your words become a salve of meaning,
and you place a sense of lightness on your friend,
then you are probably a FRIEND yourself.
If you meet a cripple,
and both your hearts begin to cry a little,
and "I understand" is REALLY the truth,
and the fewer words you say, the more they mean,
and a smile and a hand-touch mean more than ANYTHING,
then you, yourself are probably a CRIPPLE too.
(( My honor to all those warriors
who haven't fully made it back yet from 'Nam.
I was one of the more lucky ones,
and so VERY lucky to meet you all
at the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial Wall.
Glistening eyes and bright smiles
are not always from bitterness
or sardonical cynicism :
true compatriots, warriors and
worthy defenders of Liberty
know our self-identifying badge of honor.
"Thank You"
to those who can hear it.
"Never Will We Forget"
to those who gave their all.
And to those who prayed for ME those days,
"My Love and Gratitude and Thanks". ))
++
D. Greensleeves TANKA
My hand to your hand;
Spirits combine: Love's circle:
You're completing me!
Gently,sweetly, Love is born,
Innocently, it lives on!
++
Fantasy, Whimsy, Imagination
"It Keeps You Runnin' ! "
.
.
Imaginations ! Je les aime !
Ils maintiennent mon âme vivante.
Je ne vis pas sur Des Imaginations ;
L'Imagination prospère de moi.
Je dérive mon inspiration et refuse toute
l'inhibition de ma confiance dans l'imagination honnête.
Si votre âme n'est pas remplie d'imagination,
ou est remplie de combustible par Le "Whimsy",
alors peut-être votre vie n'est pas La Vie,
mais La Mort simplement animée.
++
FOR CHRISTMAS, 2002
Fresh blanket of purest white
on this "Oh, Holy Night".
Dear friends gathering 'round,
from near village and far town.
Christmas' purest joys,
despite death's violent noise.
God's sure and gentle Peace;
from sin God's sure release.
Shrink no more at sounds of fear,
tune ear and heart to hear
God's Music, brought to Man's ear,
"...From Angels Bending Near..."
Peacemakers are born, and live,
or die, seeking the Peace God did give.
Our task, His Promise, sealed by His birth:
be Peace, live Peace, pray Peace.....on earth.
This may be our last and final chance to be Peacemakers.
++
God rules. Christ reigns. Love serves.
"Religious pluralism", a TANKA series
God hates "religions",
"Religious Pluralism"
worships Satan First :
there is only ONE :I AM"!
All other faiths are but sham.
Respect not "Man-faith"
which rejects the Only God;
"All paths lead to....." HELL!!
My friend, God alone is Love,
yet He's MOST "Intolerant"!!
"God-me-not-your-gods"
Take your gods' peace to their graves,
where your gods' love lies :
"Conform!", "Convert!", and "Compel!",
still God Rules, Christ Reigns, Love Serves!
One God means One Faith :
"One God, Faith, and Baptism".
One Creed : "Love, Serve, Pray".
"Faith-identity"
means teaching TRUE Faith!
++
GOOD-MORNING, MY WONDERFUL GOD!!
I lean my little-boy arms on the sill of thunder,
peering into the window of Heaven,
as I gaze on My Little Nature,
now lit by FLASH! BOLTS!
And I gaze at God,
beginning
His day
with me.
His peaceful voice now and always re-assures me;
"You REALLY are at home, fond warrior."
His gentling visions again adjure me ;
"You need not ever again fear:
these reminding night-sounds,
the flash that surrounds,
it is Me waking you, reminding you that
'I AM', and 'PEACE' are now
your hard-won rewards.
WARRIOR, YOU MAY NOW
SAFELY
GO BACK
TO SLEEP."
++
HEART IN SPACE, to Bach Cello Suite .3, C major
I can see it hanging there, in space,
in the midst of all the Universes;
a heart, removed, isolated from its body.
Now suspended and stark, as post-autopsy
or exhumation. Just "there", unconnected
to anything, everything. Meaningless.
I am floating near to it, observing it.
I can draw as close to it as I care to,
and from any direction. It knows I approach.
I see how it knows, how it is being held:
in apparent empty space there are millions
of nearly-invisible threads running to it,
through it,
into it,
out of it,
to and fro in Infinite Space.
Each thread seems to be a memory, or
a true promise, or
a sweet grief, or
an occasion to remember, or
recall what happened to this heart.
Each tendril is so deeply implanted
in this heart, that they each quiver
with its pulse, and re-enforce every beat,
and every movement of their own.
All of them are alive,
each with the throbbing of the heart.
A certain few of them seem to ring
like crystal bells,
chiming and rhyming
as their part of memory is stirred.
This stimulates the heart
even more than before, and
a radiation of sympathetic notes,
symbols of recollection,
begins spreading
into all the other strings,
the innumerable strings
which lead off into
the whole Universe.
Lovely music fills my ears,
my own body sympathetically vibrates,
and my own soul sings in Joy!
I think if I would try
to stop this beautiful song
by breaking all the strings,
it would take one-million years.
One-million years of breaking,
and of forgetting.
Then, and ONLY then would
the mesmerizing music cease,
and the incredibly beautiful heart
tragically die.
++
( I have music for this; it is called 'BEAUTIFUL" )
I see you standing there,
Dawn's sun lights up your dress!
My mind sees the first girl I ever loved,
but her name I can't confess;
[ but your name is Beautiful!
And it fits you oh so well!
To me you are Beautiful,
in ways only my soul can tell! ]
I feel the same sweet pang
of need from long "Ago";
standing then so close to a girl
whose name I don't now know;
[ but your name is Beautiful!
Its sweet echoes fill my heart!
This name of Beautiful
will rule me, as Love's first part! ]
Sometimes my heart still sees her
.....through my day, for a while;
..........and each time, this heart
...............opens to her eyes, her smile....
There's no comparison;
her meaning is my bliss.
No other name on earth
is as Beautiful as this!
And when I think of her---
her walk, her grace, how she stands,
I can only think "Beautiful" !!
of her hair, her scent, her hands : :
Her skin is her dress.
Her clothing is her smile.
Her eyes are my caress.
Her voice is my soul-thrill
Her name is Beautiful !
Nothing more to say or do !
She has filled my heart with love !
.....and she has made
ME
so
BEAUTIFUL,
too ! !
++
HEY!, BIG BROTHER.....
.....I miss you, and I miss
ALL THE THINGS YOU DIDN'T DO: :
(From Cassandra, in Arkanas,
to her big brother Robert, somewhere)
Remember that time when I "borrowed" your brand new car!!??
And I dented it, BIGTIME!!
I thought for sure you would KILL me!!
But you didn't.
And remember the time all my girlfriends and I made you drive us to the beach,
even though you said it was gonna RAIN!!
And of course it did!
I thought sure you'd say "I told you so!",
but you didn't.
And the times I REALLY flirted with your friends,
just to make Big Brother jealous!! ??
And WOW you WERE!!!
I thought you'd KLUNK me for sure,
but you didn't.
And the time I spilled my blue-berry shake
all over your car-seats, and the mats, and even the steering-wheel!!
I thought you'd deck for good for that!
But you didn't.
And the time I "forgot" to tell you the party was "formal",
and you showed up in cut-offs and a crop-top!!
I thought you were gonna SMACK me,
but you didn't.
Yeah, there are lots of things you didn't do
when you were putting up with your little sister!
And you loved me, and some might have thought
you were overprotecting me,
but YOU didn't.
And there are many things I wanted to make up to you for,
and to thank you, for being this little-girl's first Hero,
when you came back home from Viet Nam.
. . . .
++
I AM THE WIND OF THE HILLS
I come 'round the hill, like always I do,
brushing your warm cheek; your soft fur meets my dew.
I moan amd I sigh, like always I do,
as ineffable secrets I begin telling you.
I probe your sweet hair, like always I do;
I creep 'neath your clothes seeking the real you.
I whisper: "Ancients are here", like always I do,
"Come join our repose, sharing secrets so true."
But you go on your path, and, like always I do,
I watch you wander away: to my self I am true.
But, my way I can't find now (which I never can do),
your way is my quest; this wind's joy comes from you.
I am the wind of the hills; I go, too, on my way.
Q, answer this prayer of this wind: "Inhale me, deeply, on another day.....
++
# II, "But Only Three....".
My response: Love's Roots Grow Deep; Deeper Than Life."
AABB CCCC FgFg DDEE (doubled-couplet FgFg)
I feel as though, were I but one soul,
yet I would be the Entire Universe, "The Whole",
encompassing the Trinity Of Infinite Part,
and also thine and my twain-now-combined-heart(*).
Oh!, DO SHARE! Say of thy fears! Tell me thy History!
Succumb not to fashion's crude, rude rigidity!
Dans la douleur est l'excellente poesie!
En beaucoup de larmes sont Sonnets reveles multilies!
No darkness leaks, nor sly Death creeps between two true lovers.
'Though crumbled, shattered, drowned, enflamed, The Five(*) outlive all others!
I pluck Love's flowers from the garden
my heart knows: they are mine!
But Love's root dies not, for deeper-in
it grows: it is thine!
{{ (*)Elizabeth believes Truest Love can transcend mortality
and make us One with God, Who IS Love!
The Trinity plus two TRUE lovers equals "The Five."}}
++
I NEVER HEARD HER;
my whole time in-country,
I never heard her! Not even once!
Oh, yes, I SAW her---
pictures of her, resemblances of her,
on guys' uniforms, up on the sides of planes,
on tanks and jeeps, pasted on foot-lockers,
stuck on our helmets or on our flak-jackets.
Other guys who loved her just as much as I
carried her likeness,
and we all showed her, proudly!
whenever I saw her, I smiled.
And a lot of times, inside, I cried,
'cause I do love her, and missed her.
But I never heard her.
I NEVER HEARD HER;
There were places and times, where,
if the conditions had been a bit "calmer",
or maybe if I had been able to listen,
or had been in a quieter place and mood,
I COULD have heard her,
but that wasn't always possible;
Oh, of course, there WERE events,
daily and weekly, somewhere in-country
where everyone was invited to come hear her,
but I was never able to get there,
because my mission did not include being THERE,
and so, I never heard her.
I NEVER HEARD HER;
I thought a lot about all the times
I HAD heard her, at my CONUS stations,
in the early-morning light, and at evening,
when we'd all pause to watch and hear her.
Lots of week-ends when all us guys
would get together, we would hear her,
and really enjoyed the company of her
and our brothers. Yeah,
THEN I HAD heard her.
But for all my tour in Viet Nam
I never heard her.
I NEVER HEARD HER;
And I missed her----oh, I missed hearing her so much!
Because SHE was the biggest part
of why I was IN Viet Nam.
She was why ALL of us were in Viet Nam,
and lots of guys told me that they
missed hearing her, too.
They say that they too get these sweet
tears in their eyes every time
they think of her, and this passionate lump
comes into our throats,
and the creeping skin on our arms,
remembering how much
we REALLY missed hearing her.
We'd never heard her!
I NEVER HEARD HER!
Wow, it comes as a sudden
and almost brand-new recollection,
a flash-back to those years
far away from America,
serving in hostile lands,
doing the missions we knew
had to be done, really just to keep HER safe,
back there at home.
How very much I missed hearing her,
all that time!
....And right NOW, Oh!, I would SO love to hear her;
to hear that hymn to Old Glory :
Let me hear her, NOW!
THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER ! ! ! ! !
++
