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Passions in Poetry

Ed's Challenge....Remembrance

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Member Rara Avis
since 01-23-2003
Posts 7179
Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass

0 posted 11-10-2004 07:09 PM       View Profile for Ratleader   Email Ratleader   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Ratleader's Home Page   View IP for Ratleader

This seems like a good day to write about remembrance...but then any day is a good day for that, we just show it without shyness now.

Here's mine:

Old Friends

He won’t talk, turns questions aside
with no more than some neutral story
about base life, that I’ve heard before.
I never probe: the only time I tried,
his face held on, rock steady, but
his eyes begged, “Please, not this.”

I know this much only now for certain,
that he held a rank but didn’t like it,
tried to give no orders that would kill,
kept a friend he had survived with,
who had run the radio on long flights
over darkness and God knew what.

It was a hobby shop that got him.
Just walking through one afternoon,
hunting daydreams, buying batteries,
spending time we both had to share,
mostly being men together in the way
dads and sons so seldom get to be.

Trains and rockets, big and little cars,
bright grownup toys for children,
children’s toys for grown-up men.
Overhead the models, all to scale,
wings, propellers perfect, even girlfriends
nose-painted where they would have been.

Slowly, a tear he refused to acknowledge
and a look of distance I had never seen;
the years lifting, crashing back too heavy
as he saw me notice he’d gone lost.
A shy memory smile drawn in, then
“Old friends,” was all he could say.

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Member Seraphic
since 07-29-99
Posts 20770
on the threshold of a dream

1 posted 11-10-2004 09:58 PM       View Profile for suthern   Email suthern   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for suthern

You expect me to type through the tears in my eyes? *S*

Yes... I will... for the need to say thanks exceeds any shyness. *S*

I'll be grateful if mine can get within waving distance of your contribution... Old Friends is absolutely incredible!!
Gentle Spirit
Member Laureate
since 10-09-2000
Posts 14329

2 posted 11-11-2004 01:16 PM       View Profile for Gentle Spirit   Email Gentle Spirit   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Gentle Spirit

Heres mine. I think that alot of these should have came with a hanky alert!
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart

3 posted 11-20-2004 09:46 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Sounds that Shattered

I remember enjoying Fridays, simply because
it was either macaroni & cheese or cheesy pizza
and Fridays were the days I saved for school lunches
to relish the taste of youth.

I remember enjoying innocence simply, because
my world had been sheltered and yes,
I knew of life and death
but I was {almost} twelve and inexperienced

I remember times of edginess, simply because
I didn’t yet fully understand words like
fey, or perception, or intuition
although I could spell them very well.


Sounds shattered in Texas that Friday,
I knew it in the running of a teacher, down
long hallways of education, talking to the teachers,
then running, as teachers crumbled, and crumpled

asking an already still classroom to please, be quiet,
as she shattered our innocence in a few words
but intuitively, we {I} began to feel the repercussions
ripple forward into our {my} forever-changed lives

as we were excused for lunch, to go, please, eat,
we will let you know if you will be going home;
we did as we were told, talking in whispers, some of us
not whispering at all, but wanting to know only safety.


They kept saying she was dressed in pink, but
black and white forces you to use your imagination,
so we only saw shadows on her skirt,
as if some dirt had forever stained her suit.

There was no magazine for People then, that
colorfully played the moment again, and again,
only three stations to broadcast shadows as
horses slowly clopped, carrying the fate of a nation;

only pages of Time held print in silent remembrance
of a man who passed too soon, the media not
casting Camelot aside wickedly until decades later,
and we would learn more than we cared to know.

Some moments ~ a day, or time, a bowl of creamy
mac & cheese, a smell, or a color pink brings back
the sound of footsteps, running, whispers of fear, feelings
gone insecure, when the sounds that shattered

came and went, one November Friday.

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