January 27, 1973
I was sitting in the barracks
yelling and screaming echoed through the halls
sirens blaring, horns blowing, fireworks popping;
the war was over
I was driving to my grannies country home after the end of a dinner invite with friends in town, about 40 miles away.
There was news of the oddity prior to my first visual contact, that entertained my youthful glassless eyes for the near full length of this drive and that thing be an unobstructed view.
I'm talking about Comet Kohoutek, of 1973. Admittedly, the spectacle looked like a toy when the tail drops a bit then ups a bit.
The comet appeared blunted, like some dream, or like a string on a kite but cut severely short.
On the opposite end, being my left-side drivers window, directly is the moon over the ocean, and the comet more left of my driver's window, heading towards town that I had just left.
The moon fronts my drivers window, the comet in my rear window, wondered with that comet out there--where is everybody?
Ah, that's the answer, it's driving out to the country, with the length of a beach one side, the moon in front, comet rear, and that is why nobody's here.
... and not because it's two in the morning.
Fifty years ago today
an attack was well underway
On Yom Kippur, October 6
Israel was in a fix
Egypt had invaded the Sinai
Syrians climbed down the Golan Heights
Arabs sought to recapture land
which they regarded as theirs 'by rights'
Three weeks later, Israel was up off her heels
at the gates of Cairo and Damascus
troops ready to seal the deal
But the US said No! Israel had to go
back to the preexisting status quo
2,400 died in defense of their nation
as Israel began to grow impatient
with their supposed Allies in the West
When on your holiest day, your enemies attack
Why should you give what you captured back
______________________________________
The 2,412 soldiers who died comprised 1% of
Israel's Jewish population in 1973. A comparable
figure would be 300,000 American soldiers dying
in a four-week war in 1973.
We watched the barefoot children in green yards dart through shadows, playing their childish games. We saw their innocents and we knew that they were not us.
Through open doors and windows, we saw them staring blankly at their flickering screens. They were sitting so close yet ignoring each other wishing they could be us.
There was an old couple sitting on their front porch, fading from life. They smiled and waved, trying to remember a time when they knew how to be us.
We pause for just a moment beneath the streetlights glow, your hands in the pockets of my jeans and mine on your shoulders. Our souls touched and we were happy to be us.
*Image of Novem by IMDb.
Novem: Affects IX in 1973
Nine college students record music
at some sheltered hideaway place.
They're killed in a van mishap,
on the way back to school.
Yond thirty-one years,
their songs recalled.
Sometimes fame
comes too
late.
2022 November 10
*3rd Place*
A November Nonet
~~Andrea Dietrich: Judged 2022 November 21
*HMS
A Quartet Of Short Poems From 1973
(1.)
A Newer Vision, Of Paradise Lost
I went blindly into the haze
Left the purple gloom behind
If human life be but a maze
What does love do for mankind?
R.J. Lindley, 1973
(2.)
A Clear Vision, Of Death's Positive Hand
Altars of purple robed kings
Swollen with their stolen wealth
Yet one day they too, their death bring
Vastly improve their slaves health.
R.J. Lindley, 1973
(3.)
A Truer Vision, Of Humanity
Golden pails filled with sweet dreams
Life begging greater release
Man a vain creature of dark schemes
Pleading purple doom to cease.
R.J. Lindley, 1973
(4.)
A Sad Vision, A Much Deserved Fate
He wore purple cloak, and sad eyes
Sat upon a golden throne
His wicked life his soul denies
Destined to die alone.
R.J. Lindley, 1973
Note:
Hope you may enjoy this quartet of short poems,
Written by a 19 year old lad. I remember him fondly
And in his youth and vigor had hoped for so much more
Yet life gives what it gives and man must endure its
Angry pains, its losses and its failed dreams.
These 4 poems are exactly as composed 46 years ago.
No editing...
I was certainly a nervous mother
left on my own with a one year old child
my husband had gone on a business trip
noise startled me, one after another
imagination had gone quiet wild
squeaky back door let out a teeny rip
I was terrified as mother and wife
my back doorknob was moving with a whip
nothing about my hot feelings were mild
Muscatine police came to save my life
rapidly found four raccoons in their grip
A Prayer From October 1973
Written: by Tom Wright
I thank you Lord,
for the opportunity of speaking with you this morning.
For life and what it will hold for me this day.
Whether trials, heartaches, or disappointments,
may I emerge a better person from this day than yesterday.
Proclaiming aloud the wonderful news that Jesus Christ,
my redeemer, still lives in my heart;
and is saying to the weary multitudes throughout the earth,
*“come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”
Amen
*Matthew 11:28 King James Version
Evening found me sitting in the kitchen, feeling down,
my parents and my elder brothers all out on the town.,
leaving me to babysit, a dull end to the year,
too old for early bedtime, legally too young for beer.
Ken McKellar on TV with Moira Anderson,
too much for a young lad to take, so put the radio on.
Radio Luxembourg my choice when tuning in the dial,
although the signal fades and then comes back after a while.
I'd see the new year in myself with style, or so I thought,
by using all that's left at home, a tiny drop of port.
Emptied my glass, “Happy new year! “ I heard the DJ say,
“ It's twelve midnight in Luxembourg, eleven in the UK”
I stared in some confusion at the port that I'd just drank,
but realisation soon set in and my heart slowly sank.
Nothing left in bottled form of a similar ilk,
at our midnight I made do with a glass of full fat milk.
Pulling stunt's like that on me is an absolute crime
I can see now why they call the stupid thing 'Greenwich mean time'.
OH NAKED MAN IN HARMONIA
TELL ME WHAT IS LOVE
Love is when a sensitive child
Happens on a flowering hillside and
Cries out with joy
In the blazing eyes of a cat
The eyes only
Be it live
Or photograph
Love’s power is
That it has no secrets
Will allow none
Love will settle on a countenance
And strip it bare
For all the world to see
An old old man
Given up struggle
Given up thought
Helpless before his maker
Love has no earthly intelligence
But chooses fool
Or Saint alike
Some say love is complexity
But I say that love is simplicity
And draws its power
From contrast with complex things
So simple love
That it brings tears
Of disbelief
If love is fine
Where love is serf
Just think how great
Where love is king
On this side they call it love
What needs no name
In its kingdom
Love is not a God
It is a helpless thing
Without a power to persuade
Love needs no thought.
Those who think they love
Do not love at all
Think of every worldly set of situations
Thought about and then
Declare that love is none of these
None of these are love
Time Warp to 1973
Beam me back: nineteen, seventy-three.
I sleeping alone, too dark to see.
Something suddenly awakened me.
There, at the foot of my bed, stood three.
Side by side glowing figures stayed still.
Who were those spirits that caused my chill?
Together, silent, against my will
Sightings like this did great fear instill.
Garments of light donned different designs.
One kingly figure wore clothes refined.
Another one armored...ancient times.
The peasant was third; simple clothes shined.
Perplexed by the vision; fearing more.
Too frozen to speak, thoughts rushed galore.
Bolstered up courage; words stayed their track.
“Go! Go away; and never come back!”
This was not the first vision for me.
As a child, I saw more than just three.
Never, like this, did fear capture me.
Unexplained nigh in seventy-three—
© Name withheld for contest
January 6, 2010
Written for Danielle White’s Poetry Soup member contest: Time Warp
so much pain
Lord why did you have to take Dwayne
I dont mean to question your judgement
but I just miss my cousin
in hindsight I can see that we was living wrong
but I dont think the cure was two bullets in his lungs
at the funeral while they quote proverbs and Psalms
I'm holding on his moms arm trying to keep her calm
she crying my sons another homocide victim
if that bullet would have knicked him it would have gotten our attention
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