playing in the dirt
better than dessert
fun toys
starting to exert
sweating through my shirt
life’s joys
don’t want to get hurt
better stay alert
whoa, boys!
----------
a Lai is a pretty easy 9-liner with 5a-5a-2b-5a-5a-2b-5a-5a-2b:
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/lai-poetic-forms
I don't realize,
how to read your eyes?
Tell me.
Is it love in guise?
Can I share with guys?
Be free.
Know views will be wise.
If yes, it'll be prize
for me.
~*~
~Morning Salutation~
(Lai)
Sunr'se softly soars in
Greets all with a grin
Bells rings
Folks get out, go in
The suns a tad din
Kids sings
Making notes with pins
Love birds sweet songs in
Hearts brings.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
August.24.2015
Pa! the soldier come! with
gum and money and big big fun!
they like my aoi dai (dress) and
long black hair,
Pa! I meet fella, stripe on arm,
big heart, big dollar and home have
farm;
Pa! he want take me to mountain far,
Yes! OK?...Oh thank you Pa!
..................
Pa! I have baby now and fella gone...
I come home soon to village I can?
Yes? OK! thank you Pa!
Pa?... where you and sister and little Phu?
where Ma and friends and people too?
where the songbird breezy sing, where
the mill and rice and fish?
Pa! there is no song, no bird no fish,
all you gone I know not where,
only here a single path and grass so
stained by bone and death;
Oh Pa! Pa! Pa!
~Morning Salutations~
(Lai)
Sunr'se softly soars in
Greets all with a grin.
Bells ring
folks get out,go in
the suns a tad din
Kids sing
making notes with pins
Love birds sweet songs in
hearts brings.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
December,28,2014
30,000 Lt. Calleys - LEST WE FORGET
The My Lai Massacre - 1968
There's a sound in the dark
of a shot to its' mark
and it's ended a dream for good
for a boy in his prime
who's run out of his time
and he dies from words mis-understood.
There's a girl putting out
it's what her life's about,
and the only way she can survive,
but she gave all she could
more than anyone should,
then she's wasted, because she's not alive.
It's the land of the dead
and it' s pumped in their head,
anyone looking cross-eyed must die,
it's a license to kill,
you can bet that they will,
in the flash and the blink of an eye.
It's the dark. It's the cold.
It's the growing too old
It's the leaving of loved ones behind
to a peace never found
and a war all around,
though it's not any war they can find.
© 1995 ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
March 16, 1968 Viet Nam
30,000 Lt. Calleys
There's a sound in the dark
of a shot to its' mark
and it's ended a dream for good
for a boy in his prime
who's run out of his time
and he dies from words mis-understood.
There's a girl putting out
it's what her life's about,
and the only way she can survive,
but she gave all she could
more than anyone should,
then she's wasted, because she's not alive.
It's the land of the dead
and it' s pumped in their head,
anyone looking cross-eyed must die,
it's a license to kill,
you can bet that they will,
in the flash and the blink of an eye.
It's the dark. It's the cold.
It's the growing too old
It's the leaving of loved ones behind
to a peace never found
and a war all around,
though it's not any war they can find.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
I, mister, I'm
Alive, alive.
...Alive.
Cut my limbs off
Let me bleed,
Bleed.. Bleed,
Bleed the pain.
Out.
My... My Lai Masscre,
Cut my limbs off,
Screw me senseless
screw me dead.
My Lai Masscre.
I'm alive.
My..
Lai Masscre.
March 16th 1968
Vietnam.
Evening sprinkles
Refresh my flowers
Lightning
Lazar show thunders
Excite molecules
Meshing
Muddy little boots
Setting all in rows
Piercing
LAI poem introduced to me by Nette OnClaud.
aab x3 a=5syllables and b=2 syllables.
a's rhyme and b's rhyme.
Prancing through the fields
Golden sunrays yield;
Raindrops…
Fall from the grayed ceil,
Cloudy teardrops wield,
Pained crops…
Soon to be fulfilled,
Nourished and then tilled;
Good Marks!
On the 16th day of the 3rd month of my sunniest year
the other side of the world was a cold gray river
splashing boots
soldiers slashing
an 300 unarmed peasants
but I was in the 24th year of a warm spring glow
wearing mini-
skirt and stylish boots
reading romances old as Camelot.
In my countless young days,
what did I care for massacres on the far side
of an earth that was my own, untouched
and ivory
the polished bone of untold
generations singing ancient songs
from towers of smashing silver knights
for ladies
of a lai’s romance
so many years ago without number.