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William Donovan Poem
Cambodia
Prison camp S-21
Angkar kills but does not explain
your blood bleeds into my veins
so I can feel your pains
whatever god you pray to
beg for deliverance.
in the good old USA we are
unaware of unseen suffering.
Usually but not always.
we met at a wedding and
you shared your story
in broken English until
I understood that you
had been in the killing fields.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
Memories
In a box in an attic are my memories.
They smell old and are yellowed;
Fragile in aged hands as I hold them.
Distant parts of me come back to life.
I see a boy hitting a baseball in the dirt.
I see awkward dance lessons as a kid.
I smell pizza my sister bought me with
babysitting money. She was my sanctuary.
There are summers at the pool with chlorine
eyes and sexual awakening with Patty 2 piece.
Midwest heat and storms and lazy discovery.
Greenhills, Ohio. The center of my universe.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
My poetry starts with nicotine.
After awhile I mixed in alcohol.
Catholicism is a main ingredient.
Puberty is a wicked mix of Absinthe.
Next I add a father broken from war.
My mom could be friend or betrayer.
I had to maintain a delicate balance
between being real or just amusing.
Amusing is easy. Real is impossible.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
We are defined by many things in our lives.
You're a good son. A great older brother.
An eagle scout and crazy ass metal guitarist.
A firebug and science nerd and my neighbor.
I know cancer is devastating and destroys.
Loved ones become targets for loose anger.
There's only one ending. Life or death.
Your victory is remaining Michael.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
Moonshine in a Champagne Flute
I'm a midwestern boy from Cincinnati.
Raised to fear the lord and say "Mam".
Grew up modest but never in need of nuthin'.
Ended up in Alabama and met my next wife.
She's a firestorm and a summer breeze.
She knows everything; cures my ailments.
She set me straight when our girl despaired
and wanted to abandon college to come home.
I am confused at times, not sure if she's
too highfalutin for her own good.
She's my anchor, my yin to my yang.
She's a jelly jar full of champagne.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
You pose for me from time to time
I sketch you with my words.
Perfect curves angles and shadows.
Sun frames hair in a halo;
cheekbones of a movie queen;
Cleopatra smile of yours
brings me to my knees.
You stop time.
I see forever
in your eyes.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
Yellow Brick Road
As angels go Dorothy was my favorite!
she saw within our hearts. She knew the
possibilities. She helped us believe
in ourselves.
She laughed the hardest, she loved us all,
she guided this lost soul into a place of peace.
We miss you very dearly.
Thoughts from the scarecrow, tin man and cowardly lion!
And your little dog too!
I'll find you at the end of the yellow brick road.
Love to our dear friend, Dorothy Rengsdorff.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
Too young for bars, but thirsty.
Uncle Reggie owned a beer joint so
we went in and had beers carte blanche.
He was upstairs dying of cancer.
We went up for an impromptu visit.
He and his woman in a small room.
He was in bed weak with sickness.
We made small talk then escaped.
We went downstairs; one for the road.
Everything I drank then tasted bitter.
One day we'll all be in that bed upstairs.
May God rest all of our souls. Amen
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
At war with my soul for years
since I was a an innocent child.
Born with original sin, never
had a chance with a stacked deck.
Seven deadly sins my enemy.
After puberty under constant
barrage of heavy artillery.
Pleasure can't breach ramparts!
Maps useless, terrain unrecognized,
Holy water torrents destroy minds,
drive men insane with guilt.
We crawl to confession seeking
a place in line to heaven. All
we see is the horror of this war
waged against us in our innocence.
We can never forgive ourselves.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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William Donovan Poem
Amusing is easy. Real is impossible.
March 23, 1949 I arrived to spectacular reviews.
When I was first male child things went swimmingly!
Passed around to waiting, loving arms was a delight.
It wasn't too long before I wore out my welcome.
My father was a war hero, a bomber pilot who escaped
from behind enemy lines when shot down over France.
I interrupted his adulation and he was none too pleased.
Pilots took speed to fly many long missions; addicted.
He was a loving and angry man. I never knew which and
I grew into boyhood balanced upon a precarious blade.
I learned to be a jester and leave them laughing and
that worked until it didn't and then all bets were off!
Beat me and I'll beg for mercy. Scream at me and I cringe.
Send me to my barren room. Threaten me with all you've got,
and all I'll do is bide time and amuse you back to my will.
Laughter is the best medicine. Let's resume a "normal" life.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2017
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