Ft Leonard Wood Mo.1961
Combat Engineers
Miracle Man
10/18/2024
Most days we awoke feeling quite asinine,
choice wasn’t to get up or remain supine.
The bugle was telling us rise and shine,
fall in formation “cruits” and ditch the whine.
After a five mile hike you’ll be feeling fine,
with their way of thinking we wouldn’t align.
Our canteens contained water tasting like brine,
with spit shined boots each cleaned his carbine.
K.P. and cleaning grease traps is hard to define,
another duty intended to harass but was benign.
Just one lousy gig got us a barracks confine,
but finally after 9 weeks we were on cloud nine.
All this happened with purpose and by design,
to make men of boys that would toe the line.
Categories:
ft, angst, character, military, motivation,
Form: I do not know?
When I was six-years-young
The attack of the fifty-foot woman was born.
I saw the signs, of course, but could not imagine
Why anyone would be afraid of a fifty-foot woman
having no concept of how women behave sometimes.
I do not believe I saw the movie until I was twelve.
It was terrifying and terrorizing, and I was terrified.
The woman was ripping signs off of buildings,
and throwing things around in a giant rage.
Like some women do, when they get frustrated.
I do not care to ever see it again, but I do know
at twelve, when you are realizing how your body is changing
and you are a girl, who likes to not have messy things around,
you can relate well to this kind of rage.
I was throwing things around myself.
Categories:
ft, nostalgia,
Form: Narrative
Waves crashing
Against the shore
Hear the power
Hear the roar
Wind blowing
Birds take flight
Stars twinkle
in the dead of night
Feel the sand
Beneath your toes
Enter a reality
No one else knows
Waves crashing
Against the shore
Can you feel the power?
Can you hear the roar?
Categories:
ft, beach, beautiful, bird, creation,
Form: Rhyme
Rare hidden gem in Florida
Home to Thomas Edison,
Harvey Firestone; Henry Ford
America hidden blessing
Golden history landmark Royal Palm Hotel
Where the rich and famous relax
Palm trees sway proudly on Edison Ave
Caloosahatchee River
Where you can go to escape the world
Cry your blues away
City where the tropical savanna at its finest
Enjoy the ocean facing gulf of Mexico
Ride the strip of the beach
Sanibel and Captiva Island
Known for their pearly white sands
Tropical paradise
Take you to another place
Estero a city that motivates
Motivates to dream big
Robert Edward Lee
Lee county
Oh faithful American General
Ft Myers home of snow birds
Soaking up the tropical climate
Soaking up some Ft Myers memories
Memories that last a lifetime
Categories:
ft, adventure, beach, celebrity, city,
Form: Free verse
"The Thinker - FORT WORTH ZOO July 1980"
What's on your mind? You scratch your head and stare,
as if perhaps you've known me all along;
and in your eyes, yes, I can see it there,
a silent thought, that something must be wrong--
behind your glass--spotlighted for the world
to have and hold, a precious memory
of you; your eyes so deep, your fingers curled,
and in your face, the look we never see.
Oh gentle ape! If we could reach your mind!
Perhaps the wrong that's grown with you in age
won't mean so much--but you will never find
a tropic breeze, there in your Texas cage!
I've seen. I've left. And felt a little shame
because your eyes are always just the same.
copyright 1980-94 ron wilson.aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
in honor of THE THINKER, a massive, wonderful gorilla who greeted the public as first entering the Fort Worth, Terxas zoo for years, behind a thick protective glass. If still alive, he would now be over 38 years old. God bless.
Categories:
ft, beauty, world,
Form: Sonnet
Light fades from their eyes
As flames light up the skies
Heavy smoke clung they could not breathe
As the fire took trees grass and seeds
Embers burned and fell like volcano ash
Raining down on top of the city streets
Daylight became like the darkness of night
All became smoky and hidden from sight
It crackled, it sizzled it burned
a wall of fire as it churned
Destroying like a destroyer
Nothing stood in its path
It consumed left nothing untouched
It smoldered and then grew hot
It reached for things it could reap
Anything that was within its reach
It lept, it jumped could not be contained
A immense wall of heat and flames
It left a path devastation
while forcing a huge migration
While the fire burns on.
06/05/16
Categories:
ft, fire, natural disasters,
Form: Free verse
It was that of a ride.
That of a lady by the side to which caught the eye.
That of her toes that was red to the color.
As she was the most beautiful on the ride.
Her hair long and wavy as her smile lights the room.
Her body was that of an young vulpine as I experience it first hand.
As we sat and I rubbed her feet for hours on end.
That time went by like the year that passes.
Passing like that of the seasons as my mind wonders.
Wondering what it would be like to hold her tight.
It wasn't that we weren't close but there was distance in between.
As I felt my heart melting from a distance.
I know some how we connected but not knowing?
Knowing, rather we would see each other again.
I dream of the day at hand.
As I think of if, I could just pull her close.
How I would never want to let go.
But it was more then just that.
It was the love two had shared with the twingle of an eye.
But it was more then any could replace.
Because it was done from a love deep inside.
Categories:
ft, adventure, friendship, happiness, inspirational,
Form: Lyric
It's another universe out there:
a snow-scape of valleys and hills
with a marshmallow floor you could
almost jog on, as solid-seeming as
the world we've just left. Drifting,
drifting, like a snowflake, slow-motion
in a space where there is no time,
no missing element in the free fall
in which you find souls in transition who
must stall a bit. Death was so quick,
the sorrowing, long. It's a slow ascent
before your downward drop because
all around us is that incredible blue
we aspire to, as we reach for the sun,
and He who formed it from fire.
Categories:
ft, fantasy, mystery
Form: Lyric
There is no Sunday west of St. Louis
And no God that’s west of Ft. Smith—
So says the frontier adage that’s truest
And confirms the last Old West myth.
Wild Bill Hickok had him a dead man’s hand—
They found John Ringo ‘neath a tree.
Billy the Kid was shot where he did stand—
They never found Butch Cassidy.
Jesse was shot unarmed by a young creep,
Belle Starr was shot-gunned in the back—
Wyatt Earp died years later in his sleep
And the Dalton boys all got whacked.
Dirty Dave Rutabaugh did lose his head,
Doc Holliday died of TB—
And Wyatt Earp shot Curly Bill stone dead,
But what became of “Buckskin” Leslie?
John Wesley Hardin was shot in a bar—
Frank James lived to a ripe old age.
Cole Younger wrote down most of his memoir,
Buffalo Bill soon was the range.
Now west of St. Louis Sundays do thrive
And west of Ft. Smith they’ve found God—
But the frontier is no longer alive
And the Old West is a smile and a nod.
Categories:
ft, angst, cowboy-western, history, nostalgia,
Form: Cowboy Poetry