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Old 04-18-2017, 01:25 PM   #651
greenmountaineer
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(AP) WWII Soldier Found

Deathless joining with the ultimate
was the warrior's prize they said
just before the landing craft
opened wide its great white teeth,
and Attun vanished in the jungle,
cursing Captain Nakamura
who screamed his name in Japanese
on the beach at Morotai.

Conscripted aborigine,
Attun foraged thirty years,
stabbing snakes on strangler trees
that tasted better boiled than fried,
and while his snake was boiling hot,
he thought about the shrines he made
of combat bootlace camouflaged
that look like snakes on strangler trees.

Sometimes there were carcasses
whose tags were those of dogs they said
he dragged to where the GI's slept,
the owners of the island now,
and when the night was full moon bright
he prayed for ocean pea soup fog,
concealing him and carcass where
he'd etch a cross in sand nearby.

They'll take him to Jakarta,
although he wanted Kao-hsiung
to hear again its poetry,
but tonight as newsmen sleep
in tents nearby their whirlybirds
he buries boots they gave to him
and barefoot walks three miles east
to kneel in sand for Raymond Wheatly
PFC 96 45 73

after which he will return
to a special altar where
Attun will tenderly unlace
the boots that Nakamura wore
and knot the lace as mala beads
with the ones they gave to him
that he may pray for those remaining
snakes that dangle from the trees.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 04-18-2017 at 04:24 PM.
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Old 04-20-2017, 05:34 AM   #652
greenmountaineer
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Better Days on Fulton Street

There were times when you couldn't scrape
two dimes for a pint of might
there be better days on Fulton
far from the marching bands parade
for your Normandy blood, sweat, and tears,
shortened for time at the beach.

Whenever we heard Isaiah say grace,
the truth was our stew wasn't beef;
"Why spend money on what is not bread?"
The man had a sense of humor, as in
baking ersatz apple pie
while singing "Putting in the Ritz."

So here's a toast, Snap Crackle Pop,
to our Woolworth's five and dime life,
and, yes, we'll take your word for it,
Rice Krispies taste better with beer than pretzels
you said just for kicks while we listened to
crackling on the radio.

So to hell with those pinstripes uptown
on Edelstein's black and white TV
if Jackie's on third, Koufax the mound,
the Duke's playing shallow in center field,
and modern day saints, wearing blue collars,
rise and shine and say "Wait 'til next year."

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 04-20-2017 at 04:50 PM.
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Old 04-22-2017, 10:12 AM   #653
greenmountaineer
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Renewal of Vows

We've lived too long in Leggoland
with pillowcases and Percale sheets
that match the cups for Listerine
atop his and her bathroom sinks.

I'll bring fresh peppermint for your lips,
candles to light, champagne in flutes.
I'll French kiss sweetness on your tongue.
I'll build a fire in the fireplace.

I'll be gentle, I'll be kind.
I'll be your chapter: I'll be your verse,
1 Corinthians 13:4
I am yours, you are mine.
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Old 04-24-2017, 10:55 AM   #654
greenmountaineer
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Before Canute Went Down to the Sea

Oh how the millstream in Bosham has swollen.
Note the spot, skald, by the ink in your pen
where my belovéd daughter has fallen.

Write me a Caedmon's hymn for a solemn
runestone my masons will carve for me then.
Oh how the millstream in Bosham has swollen.

April floods render wheat fields their golden
tassels come August as hers might have been,
except the Almighty Hand came calling.

Ne'er again will I voyage to Wolin
where my jarl Thorkell, who fears not a man,
trains my Jomsvikings to beach in a column.

Summon my coterie where the tide rolls in
to see that the sea won't heed my command,
nor will the butterflies, having just stolen

my little butterfly fresh from molting
who flew to heaven to play in a fen.
Oh how the millstream in Bosham has swollen
where my belovéd daughter has fallen.
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Old Yesterday, 01:46 PM   #655
greenmountaineer
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Sentience and Sapience

In early spring you planted seed
as if making love to Mother Earth.
Yet what sprouts may well be weed,

and ugly also has its need
to breathe, to feed, to be
on the vine of your tomato plant.

So you don't fill up a coffee tin
to drown the sluggish hornworm
that drops therein so easily.

Instead, you take it to the pasture,
but it will not feed
on what's against its nature,

not even balm of Gilead,
and it's too late for another seed,
and splat weighs heavy as the answer.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : Today at 06:26 AM.
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