Short Sicily Poems

Dad Did Go to Sleep

Dad did go to sleep
He now lies in ocean deep
While I weep and weep.

My Dad was killed on Aircraft Carrier
Intrepid CNV-11 now in New York
harbor as a museum where a debate
was help. He is now buried in 200 feet
of water off of Sicily. I was 15 and had
3 sisters and two brothers when he died.
Jim Horn...

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Come, my shooting star,
Open my door,
As the night is so long in your absence,

Come, my sweet dove,
Open my poem,
As my verses are so sad, in your absence,

Come, my silk angel,
Spread your wings,
To take me to the sky of Sicily tomorrow, 

Come, my zither, come,
Open your music,
The one, the only one, that makes my heart vibrate...

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My Dad Really Did Die

My dad is buried in the sea so deep, 
Off of Sicily where he now does sleep;
God, there please comfortably keep, 
While I am counting more sheep.

Jim Horn

Drowned off of the Intrepid CVN-11
in Mediterranean. CPO Arthur F. Horn,
AOC, August 7, 1956 and missing at
sea for 3 weeks before his body
washed up on shore....

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My Ocean Wave

Sounds to me like my ocean wave,
Where sailors died and is their grave;
Over my dad's grave it does flow;
Was to us such a serious blow.

Near Sicily location is two miles off of;
200 feet below body of one we love;
Now rests there where he does reside,
And beloved country he bravely died.

All true. CPO Arthur F. Horn Aircraft 
Carrier Intrepid....

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Son of God and My Lord

When I want to be bold and much braver,
Always bright being on my best behavior;
Looked all around;
Guess who I found?
Jesus Son of God also my Lord and Savior.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

And once a War Orphan because 
my dad died on Carrier Intrepid
while on active duty. His body is
buried off of Sicily. Amen...

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How do I
To breathe?
To see the shooting stars?
To eat the pineapple
On my pizza?

How do I
To write to mom,
To sleep 
In Chicago?
To drive a Ferrari?

How do I
To love Montaigne?
How about scallops?
To travel to Sicily?

How do I 
Without you, huh?
To think?
To believe in tomorrow?
To make my poem heard
Beyond the mountains, huh?

How do I 
Without you
To write my poem?...

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in a café
in a city
of a country
who knows which
one she has picked

never seen
never been
but longing
to belong to what
she already belongs

linguistically
mixed up silly
Spanish
in Sicily
laughing

otra
to altro
but
vino
stays the same

vida
and vita
so close 
for a toast
drink more

so that
cheers
becomes
from salud
to cin cin

drunken
slurs
of
gracias
to grazie...

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Power behind the middle of the heart
Incredible feats that it carries out
Every day, inside, outside, with each part
There is a light that tells what it’s about
The heart levees strength that is strong and stout
Even through the city, love is within me
My surroundings brings me to Sicily
Where hearts beam with a great, mighty white light
My life is warm with heartbeats that truly
Mend all hearts, working with wonderful sight

Russell Sivey...

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