Long Scooter Poems
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It was January '68
Chapter 2 – Phan Rang - 1st TDY
by Franklin Price
3/5/2019
Raking sand got old real soon
Was not why I came to war
My job was not for combat
The reason why I thought was more
Before the month was over
Went to do a site survey
Traveled down to Phan Rang town
About 60 clicks away
We drove down on the roadway
I think highway number one
Traveled in an open jeep
Each of us had a gun
Through Coconut groves and other things
Had been warned to be concerned
My M-16 at ready
Tried to remember what I'd learned
Training I got at Hamilton
I hoped would do me well
But we made it without incident
Did not have to load a shell
Spent a few days on the survey
For an on base VOR
Every night a drink or two
At the non-commissioned bar
Daily on the flight line
Saw many fighters come to land
Saw an F-100 lead-sled
That was old but still was grand
One day went out to Thap Cham
The closest local town
Went to a Budhist temple
Had been a thousand years around
Burned a little incense
Beside the small front door
No room to enter through it
A shrine took up all the floor
Was also a monkey dwelling
We could hear them howl and call
The locals left food gifts for them
At night they came and ate it all
There I first rode in a cyclo
They were the three wheeled local hack
Had a scooter on the front end
And two bench seats in the back
Seated four quite easily
Entered from the rear of it
When not used as a taxi
Carried anything that fit
Once I saw a full grown cow
In the rear where I had been
There was strap around its ass
Don't know how they got it in
That was much later in the year
Not on this first time out
When everything amazed me
Gave me this trip to write about
The returning trip to Cam Ranh
When this TDY was done
Came off without an incident
Was a non-combatant run
quietly i think of you
as i walk around the flower garden
i remember helping you plant these flowers
i remember always watering them
i remember you reminding me not to water them too much
i recall jumping up and down asking you if it is time to water the flowers
it was always when your stories were on and you would get maaaaaaaaaaaaaad at me
you would then tell me to go out and play
pouting, i would just go straight to that flower garden
i feel a hand on me, and you would smile at me and say 'no today, scooter bug'
then you would go back for the second half of your stories
i would just go back to asking questions in my mind about those flowers
quietly i think of you
as i walk around the flower garden
Mother asked her big brother to pass the sugar;
big brother ruined it by splashing on liquor;
father rued spilt liquor by throwing his jigger
that hit sister who lit an elbow hard slammer
straight into the hand of their rare guest and butcher;
butcher stood to secure a full-face slap on her;
slap missed, striking their napping, fat cat to a blurred
flying fur on shriek tour that dog crashed with claws bore;
clawed dog wailed and bailed, dragging tail out wee dog
door where he ran to distance pain until a looper
stopped his scooter – close by was one giant cougar;
too pooped to care, tired dog flopped right then and
right there; dog closed eyes, cougar cleared throat, then
croaked, ‘Hey, Lassie, are you insanely blind to cougar
claw lugers?’; dog moaned, ‘A quick cougar corker beats
home murder.’
People pass on foot or bike
Or skateboard, wheelchair, scooter,
While chatting, singing, texting
Via iPhone or computer.
While in the sky the birds take wing –
The pigeons, seagulls, sparrows,
A few in pairs as if they’d felt
The sting of Cupid’s arrows.
Beneath the river, I presume
Are lots of local fishes,
Which swim and rarely do fulfill
The anglers’ fervent wishes.
Between the bushes and the trees
The squirrels frisk and scurry
And sometimes mice or rats join in,
But always in a hurry.
A sunny day out in the park
With life around me teeming;
If not for masks on every face,
I’d think I might be dreaming.
Near death experience
Eager to meet my sweetheart,
Gave my scooter a kick start,
Railway crossing on my way,
Was setting apprehensions at bay,
Sliders were down to stop the traffic,
time for train to pass, hue from attic,
Tilted my scooter, sled under the stopper,
Train passed fast and just heard the flutter,
As I reached near the track of rails,
Another train came opposite in seconds' frail,
Stepped back reflexly and stood shocked,
One step ahead, would have been docked,
A shriek cry from behind as I heard,
Blinded to the danger as I spurred,
Wonder my stupidity, wasn't any pride,
Fraction of a second away was my suicide !
Mindless haste and precious life goes waste,
Near death experience, I have had the taste!
Written November 2nd, 2014
For contest' Near life or near death experience' by Anthony Slausen
The Intrepid
Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.
Aren't I your dearest and best
Aren't I your sweetest of hearts
Aren't I your reason to smile
Aren't I your me...
Tell me...
So,
Bells of hurt in the heart
Resounds a painful symphony
Mixed in jockeys of hurtful memories
Hateful iris
Flaming tongue
Freezing lips
Play and recites
My pain and my hurt
I fell in love with you
And gave you my heart and my mind
Intwined like a line
Stick close like you're mine
But you seem to know better
What I feel for you
How long I could walk for you
And how much I love you
In a split second
I've lived an eon with you in my mind
Lying in the warmth of the sands of the time
Flying and holding limbs like kings with wings
In your eyes lies
Galleries of art
Prisons of hurt
Recitals of misery new
In my tooth
Bears your tattoo
Tutor on scooter
You like I like that too
Chasing your name
In alphabets like rain
Down thru the drain
Ain't nothing new to me
You never mind
All of these
Because
I wasn't one of ya geeks
I tried to keep you close
But you pushed me away
Like forage of hay
I'm not even gay
It's really hurtful
But I must have to say
That I'm going away
My darling, Poetry...
I'm not just good for you
Porch is hilariously messy
Anyone else would be ashamed to live here. I am amused.
Vastly and proudly amused; it keeps away burglars, right?
And salesmen.
Green striped hose, red scooter, pink Barbie helmet,
Fluffy blanket, mean cat, selfish dog, dead mouse in two pieces.
Correction.
Headless dead mouse in two pieces.
Fluffy purple rug, desperately in need of a vacuum,
pile of catnip, sixteen pieces of lawn furniture, we never sit on.
As I am allergic to Shark, the cat, and my husband is too prissy
to be out here with a headless mouse.
Waterbowls, green with algae, look like typhoid fever soup.
Golf ball, bouncy ball, blow up ball, deflated ball, bowling ball,
ugly faded pink flowers probably full of wasp nests, garden shears,
one green garden glove, two empty Amazon boxes.
Hey, did they deliver something else yesterday?
I jump up and take a peek.
False alarm.
Last week’s dead mouse.
I had forgotten I put it in there.
I would have more to add, but I think you get the drift
and I want a nice warm bath….
When your children are born you have your dreams for them
but you never really know
what direction they will take…
where their life will go.
As they grow up those dreams you had…
you quietly erase them
as you allow the dreams they have…
to gradually replace them.
And your dream for them becomes more universal
you care less if they are wealthy…
you want them to be loving and generous
to be happy, kind and healthy.
I never dreamed our son would do what I did
never wanted him to be like me…
but I am proud of the life he’s chosen
and the person he came to be…
Case in point…he sent us a picture
only a day ago
of him atop an electric scooter
in San Antonio.
Now, I never dreamed he’d ride an electric scooter
never dreamed he’d be in that place…
but often I have dreamed
about that smile on his face…
Sure he's not living my initial dream…
how many children do?
but knowing he is living his…
has made my dream come true.
a bouncing ball against a wall
conkers bashed as Autumn falls
the swish of a skipping rope:
milk bottles clinking in a crate
grate of chalk upon the slate
the tinkle of five-stones on a roll:
warning moan of an air raid
drone of bombers overhead
the whispers of prayers said:
rattle of the tin-can tommy
rasping squeak of a swing
the bus stop bell request ring:
voices chanting time-tables
snap of a teacher cane
the double hoot of the fast steam train:
raucous yell of the paper-seller
the release of the works hooter
exhaust noise from my Lambretta scooter:
peals of a Sunday morn bell
the passing funeral ....tolling,
....a death nell