A POEM WRITTEN AT THE VIETNAM VETERANS’

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shirtless
Member

since 2006-04-29

Posts 359

0 posted 2006-05-02 12:05 PM

A POEM WRITTEN AT THE VIETNAM VETERANS’
MEMORIAL ON MARCH 18th 1998

I stand
at the wall
searching
for the name
of my friend,
though I know
the dead
have no use
for names
and cannot
be chained
to tombstones
or walls
by the loops
of engraved
letters.

I stand
unshaven
in a city
where many men
shave twice
a day,
for there are
meetings
and cameras,
but I
have arrived
without appointment
or audience;
the stubble
is like tombstones
rising
from my skin.

The woman
searching near me
wears no perfume,
and in her failure
sniffs the air
that is filled
with the smell
of empty rooms;
she kisses
the wall
and walks away.

I find
the name
of my friend
and place
a finger
against
the curved trench
of the first letter,
half expecting
it to
grip me
like a baby’s hand,
but there is nothing
but the stillness of stone,
the silence of tears,
and the breaking
of my heart.

And as I
back away,
a pigeon
flies in
like a helicopter gunship
and strafes the wall —
birdshit
flows
like blood
across his name.

I told him,
“Don’t go.”
I told him,
“Come to Canada.”
But he died
like some
silent
Socrates
for a country
that has known
no golden age.

iliana
Member Patricius

since 2003-12-05

Posts 13434
USA

1 posted 2006-05-02 01:40 AM

Welcome to Passions, Anthony.

This is a very meaningful poem for me as this was my generation. Thank you for sharing it.

iliana
Member Patricius

since 2003-12-05

Posts 13434
USA

2 posted 2006-05-02 01:41 AM

(came back to add this to my libary)

luminosity
Senior Member

since 2005-11-18

Posts 813

3 posted 2006-05-02 02:46 PM

very powerful......I have never been to the wall...but you make me feel as if I have

The Lady
Member Rara Avis

since 2005-12-26

Posts 7634
The Southwest

4 posted 2006-05-02 04:31 PM

"I find
the name
of my friend
and place
a finger
against
the curved trench
of the first letter,
half expecting
it to
grip me
like a baby’s hand"

Extremely powerful shirtless. You write well.

Midnitesun

Member Empyrean

since 2001-05-18

Posts 28647
Gaia

5 posted 2006-05-03 11:58 PM

Welcome to Passion's.
I was very moved by this, the way you moved in close, let the reader touch the wall with you in an emotional moment. And then to have the carved name be bombarded by a pigeon...oh, that was a horrid moment.
Well done. Again, welcome.

Farkas
Junior Member

since 2006-05-03

Posts 20

6 posted 2006-05-04 12:11 PM

Hi

I have a different tilt on the subject. I posted “The Late Unpleasantness.”
Your poem eloquently makes your point of view.

Farkas

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-16

Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA

7 posted 2006-05-04 08:57 PM

Nice writing...James

jody5
Senior Member

since 2005-12-21

Posts 876
California, U.S.A.

8 posted 2006-05-05 01:13 AM

Wow James you told it like it was. Your poem reflect what the familys, friends and Veerans feel.

froggy
Senior Member

since 2003-06-23

Posts 1893
Michigan

9 posted 2006-05-06 11:28 PM

Power write my friend. I'm sorry you lost your friend. I remember I cried when my brother left to go to vietnam, cried when he came home safe.
Thank-you Anthony for this write for you not only honored a friend but all those who gave their life in that war.

Hugs to you

Until he extends the circle of his compassion to all living things,
man will not himself find peace."

Albert Schweitzer,
Nobel Peace Prize Wi

ice
Member Elite

since 2003-05-17

Posts 3404
Pennsylvania

10 posted 2006-05-07 07:13 AM

Tony

This poem is vivid and non political...Hard as the wall, and soft as a human heart can be and still exist as a solid.

One of your best, in my opinion.

-----------ice
><>

HopeS
Member Elite

since 2000-12-22

Posts 4596
Perth Western Australia

11 posted 2006-05-07 02:21 PM

Touching and heartfelt

Hope

icebox
Member Elite

since 2003-05-03

Posts 4383
in the shadows

12 posted 2006-05-07 06:09 PM

"...the dead
have no use
for names
and cannot
be chained
to tombstones
or walls..."

Thirty one years since it ended and still it is not over. One day soon all will be gone, each in our own way and all that will remain will be folklore, Hollywood, political charades and media lies. The dead have no use for those either.

This is a heartfelt piece.

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