I Remember

I Remember

I remember when I was a kid in summer
we used to play space ship in my back yard
using my parents' picnic table.

I remember we played cowboys
used whips from the weeping willow
to make our horses go fast.

I remember the boy next door
had a father who was in World War II
and he had a combat helmet

and even a gas mask and canteen
so sometimes we would play war
not really knowing what war meant.

We had our own foxhole in a field
behind my house which would protect
us from the unseen enemy.

I remember playing Robin Hood
in a woods behind a shopping center
lunches packed in brown bags

I remember library trips
books read lying in the lawn
under the shade of the elm tree.

I remember summer evenings
we would play starlight moonlight
kick the can and truth or dare.

I remember no one's parents worried
as we were on someone's front porch
and would come home eventually.

I remember on lazy summer days
we used refrigerator boxes as tents
started fires with magnifying glasses.

I remember playing baseball in the street
hitting tennis balls agains the garage
those days everything was possible.

We never realized back then
how quickly we would grow up
and no longer be kids in summer.

This is submitted for dVerse OpenLink Saturday.  I hope you all will join us when the 'bar' opens Saturday at 3 p.m. Eastern time.

Rebirth

Rebirth

 Despite intense cold and excessive snow spring has arrived.  And with the return of spring, there is birth to celebrate as if it were the first time.  Look around you and rejoice at the beauty in youthful nature.  It will not be visible long.  Tadpoles develop into frogs.  Butterflies emerge from their chrysalises.  Buds become leaves.  Fawns mature into deer.  Ducklings evolve into ducks.  Just as toddlers grow too quickly to adulthood so it is with all nature's children.  And before we know it, fall will return again.  But when it comes, we can rest in our assurance that spring always returns. But for now let's celebrate rebirth.

Ducklings float on pond
no thought of tomorrow's cares
drift in tranquil wake.

This is written for dVerse MTB, where Bjorn has us writing haibun.

Forever Young

Forever Young

My son my only son

I am old now 

you are forever young

By now I could have

been a grandmother

and welcomed new life

But your life ended

on a foreign shore

when it had barely begun

My son my only son

I am old now

you are forever young

All I have are memories

your body buried across the sea

someone tends your grave for me

You will never know joy of marriage

happiness of children of your own

successes or even your own failures

My son my only son

I am old now and grieve

for what neither of us knew

and never will.

This is written for Peggy's prompt of 'aging' over at Poetry Jam.  I am also submitting it to Poets United Poetry Pantry.  I took the photo of the gravestone above at Tyne Cot Cemetery in Belgium when I visited a few weeks ago.   I really felt for this mother from Australia who had lost her only son.

In Search of Truth

In Search of Truth

To exonerate your shadow

find your true messiah

live the allegory of your truth

so that when at last you walk

through that translucent glass door

at your final pernicious hour

luminous angels will greet you

epochal warmth will surround you

your persona glorified forever.

Anthony, for dVerse Poetics, presented us with a list of twelve words, of which we had to use at least five.  I used ten of the twelve.  Those I used were messiah, allegory, luminous, shadow, door, persona, glass, epochal, and pernicious.

Ratatouille

Ratatouille

I peel and cut onions

followed by cloves of garlic

cook them in olive oil

while cutting up peppers

green red yellow and red

eggplant zucchini summer squash,

and last of all tomatoes

simmer all long enough but not too long

add oregano to taste

timing is everything

savor

I live as I make ratatouille

try to find the right mixture

of textures and colors

experiences fresh as possible

add just a bit of spice

not so much as to overpower

simmer all long enough but not too long

put nothing on the back burner

keep watch at all times

timing is everything

savor

This is written and shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.  (I made ratatouille today!  Pictured above. Smiles.)

I Won't Give You Flowers

I Won't  Give You Flowers

I won't give you flowers

I will give you a book instead

something you can ponder

and a book won't be dead

in three days.

I won't give you flowers

I will give you a song instead

something you can listen to

as a song will live in your heart

a special tribute.

I won't give you flowers

I will give you champagne instead

something you can savor

in a special kind of flavor

with one loved.

I won't give you flowers

I will give you a poem instead

words will live forever

live in your heart

not fade away.

I won't give you flowers

I know you dislike flowers

except those in nature

which I enjoy too

they will live on.

This poem is written for dVerse Poets Meeting the Bar, where the prompt is to use 'slant rhyme.'  I have a few examples in my poem.

When you Meet Someone

"Relationships are like traffic lights. And I just have this theory that I can only exist in a relationship if it's a green light."  -  Taylor Swift


When you Meet Someone

When you meet someone.....
pay attention.

There are some people who are obvious red lights
and if you meet someone and see red lights
don't think that the person will change.

There are some people who are yellow caution lights
and only you can decide what to do
but if you pursue a relationship know the risk.

There are some people who are  clear green lights
hold on to that person with all your heart and mind
they are  a soul mate and don't ever let them go.

When you meet someone.....
pay attention.

This is for Susan's Midweek Motif, where her prompt is GREEN.

Rain and More Rain

Rain and More Rain

We lived in our trenches
rain soaked on lower ground
impossible to protect ourselves
as rain pounded all around.

Co-existing alongside rats and lice
while surrounded by dying and dead
when latrines were blown by Germans
flowing sewage was our dread.

We tried to be valiant, fought to survive
on the Ypres Belgium lowland
though we struggled to walk in muck
when often we could hardly stand.

The cook-house was flooded
water rose above the knee
rifles choked with mud when
soldiers fell among debris.

We died in our trenches
were buried there as well
drenched by soaking rain
relief from the watery hell.


Source of information:  here.

This poem was written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is RAIN or DROUGHT.

Armistice Day - November 11, 1918

Compiègne, France -- site of WWI Armistice
(I visited this site two weeks ago - it truly moved me.)

Model of the train car in which the WWI Armistice was signed

Armistice Day - November 11, 1918

“Once blood is shed in a national quarrel reason and right are swept aside by the rage of angry men.”

David Lloyd George, British prime minister

There were eleven thousand casualties after 5:00 a.m.
after the Armistice was signed in a railroad carriage
in the forest outside of Compiégne close to Paris

     and the Great War was to end at 11 a.m.

As the world was beginning to celebrate
the war was still being waged and the
injured and the dead continued to mount

      though the Great War was to end at 11 a.m.

Generals continued to direct troops to fight
trying to gain advantage when all they
needed to do was wait for time to pass

     until the Great War ended at 11 a.m.

Remember British George Ellison
who died at 9:30 a.m. exactly where
the first British soldier in the war died

    only a little more than an hour until 11 a.m.

Remember French Augustin Trebuchan
who died at 10:50 when he carried a message
that soup would be served after 11 a.m.

     only a few minutes before 11 a.m.

Remember Canadian George Lawrence Price
who died at 10:58
shot by a sniper

      just two minutes before the war ended at 11 a.m.

Remember American Henry Gunther
who was shot at 10:59 charging Germans
after Germans thought he would stop

   because he didn't know war would end at 11 a.m.

Remember German Lieutenant Tomas
died after 11:00 a.m. approaching American
soldiers who had not been told war was over

    though the war had been over since 11 a.m.

There were eleven thousand casualties
between the time the armistice was signed
and the time that the Great War ended.

    The Great War ended at 11 a.m.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics, where the prompt is:  Write a poem which makes use of a quotation - either at the beginning, the end, or in the body of the poem.



Reference:  here.

This is the real train car where the World War I Armistice
was signed; however, in this photo the train car is
being used by the Germans to force the French to
sign an Armistice in June, 1940.   After it was signed,
the Germans blew up the train car.

   

Belgian Bikers

Belgian Bikers

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." - H.G. Wells.

Bicycles were everywhere
no escaping them anywhere
they assumed the right of way
demanded the right of way
they paid no heed to autos.

Bicycles were everywhere
arrogant and haughty in grace
no bicycle helmets to be seen
trust without eye contact
they wove in and out traffic.

Bicycles were everywhere
cars had to be on guard
riders with hearts of steel
faith in those who shared the road
they demanded their lane.


For Poets United Midweek Motif - Bicycling & Sunday's Poets United Poetry Pantry!

Tilus - Meeting the Bar

Tilus

The greedy wind whistles
through the dawn
breeze.

Rain pelts my window pane
I cannot
sleep.

Buds are so late this year
Will life tri-
umph?

Wild turkey struts in grass
very proud
crass.

Tilus for Meeting the Bar.

Friendship in War

Friendship in War

I wanted to help, to serve my country
to do my part to serve, and I heeded the call
to volunteer when we were asked to enlist.

My brother volunteered, my cousins,
my fellow workers,  many I knew among
1000 men in ten days joined the cause

and we were promised employment
when the war was over, when
we returned home from France again

not realizing many who signed up together
would perish together in our first battle;
most of my friends and acquaintances died

as did I, July, 1916, near the Somme River
bonded together for eternity in the fight
60,000 British casualties that one day.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the theme this week is Friendship.

The "Accrington Pals" from Accrington, England, volunteered to serve their country during World War I.  It was composed of a group of friends from all areas of life.  July1, 1916, this regiment of friends suffered devastating losses.....fighting against the Germans in France. For reference, check out also The Pals Battalions.  War is Hell indeed.

Phoenix

Phoenix

I am the shadow of a dream

lost and buried and found again

as aspirations that faded rose 

from ashes of time in a new way.

I am trenches walked yesterday

meadows meandered today

paradise on horizon of tomorrow

together the voice of silent hope.

I am the best of youth and age

and they laugh with one another

embrace the lost that is now found

the dream that refused to die.

I am Phoenix

and I soar.

This is written for dVerse Poetics, where the theme is Those Pesky Questions of Identify.

At Flanders Field

At Flanders Field

I'm here but no one knows my name
God knows my life was not in vain
I died alone when evil held sway
I'll rest unnamed til Judgment Day.

I came with dreams to help the cause
but found the enemy would not pause
we forged ahead, made little gain
the prayers we prayed were all in vain.

I never thought it would be like this
I wanted to make a difference
but there was no relief from my nightmare
as screams of my comrades filled the air.

The smell of death was all around
trenches were wet,rats did abound
I realized early I may not survive
it was foolish to hope help would arrive.

There was no relief from lice or rain
I writhed in agony from mustard gas pain
And now I rest beneath foreign ground
my identity disk was never found.

Last week I visited Flanders Field Military Cemetery in Belgium.  It is the smallest American military cemetery.  411 American servicemen are buried or commemorated there.  Many of them fell at Spitaals, Bosschen, an action of the Ypres-Lys Campaign by the 91st Infantry Division in the closing days of World War I.  The photos above are mine. 

Submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Phoenix Rises

Phoenix Rises

In the  ethereal steam
of my morning coffee
a phoenix floats
above the cup

follow me it says
and I will lead you
where you want to go

and I say
where is that

and it says
you have learned
what you need
to know

I say
I hear the wings
they are so close

and it says
it is time
follow

and as it sings
its enchanting song
I rise and float away
disappear into vapor.

This poem is written for dVerse Meeting the Bar, where Claudia is having us use conversation in poetry.   There are many references to the phoenix online.  Here is one I especially liked:  phoenix

When Grandma Reads

When Grandma Reads

When Grandma reads to children
an enduring bond is forged
as page after page is turned
new worlds are revealed
exotic journeys are taken
hours pass without notice
       and magically...........
Grandma becomes young again

This is posted for Poets United Mid-Week Motif, where the prompt is "children."  The painting is Mrs. Cassatt Reading to Her Grandchildren by Mary Cassatt.  It is in the public domain.

Carnival

Carnival

In spring carnivals come around

from where they rested in winter

they have a sinister lure

an acrid and dusty essence.

Carnie women wear red lipstick

bright and tight clothes

one wonders about their children

whether they are schooled.

Carnie men dress in black

to match their slick dark hair

their skin is ruddy swarthy 

and smile menacingly sensual.

The teddy bears are dusty

the games rigged, seldom won,

the merry-go-round turns slowly

its music repeats again.

The roller coaster is rickety

greasy popcorn is slightly stale

but still the children come

there is magic in the draw.

It is said that curious children
have been known to disappear
forever behind foggy trick mirrors
when carnivals come to town.

This poem is written for Poetry Jam, where Laurie's prompt is "Festivals."

Tree

Tree

I am tree
my roots deep
despite storms
I hold fast.

I am tree
my branches strong
with my arms
I hold life.

I am tree
my trunk wide
my life long
I see all.

I am tree
my leaves green
nourished by sun
I breathe.

I am tree
my buds abundant
with my fruits
I sustain.

This poem was written for dVerse Poetics, where the theme is 'trees.'