Stand up Proud
Of all my poems, this one I have a true feeling of poetry for. It was also my most inspired work so far.
It could not have been written were it not for the help and support of some key individuals. One person I don't even know, but because of his role in "Dead Poet's Society" I was overwhelmed with feeling and emotion. Robin Williams played to my heart when at the end of the movie he said "Thank you boys, Thank you."
"Study our faces. Understand the reason." becomes clearer, if your not a Veteran, from watching the end of this movie again and the response the students had for "Mr. Keating". I saw the face of every Vet there...and I saw this poem.
The other person who made this poem possible was a "sister" of mine who has come to know and share her feelings of Vietnam and the brotherhood through her real brother, who was killed in Vietnam in 1969. It's with that in mind that I dedicate this poem to Him, and to all the other people lost in that war, and to ALL Veterans everywhere.
This poem was meant to apply to the Women of 'Nam also. While I used the term "men" and "brotherhood" in their general meaning I could equally have said "women" and "sisterhood"; except then I would, perhaps be chaining my poetic writing to a more rigid style. I don't yet know how to do that.
It was not written to glorify war or deplore it. It had nothing to do with war or peace. It Did have Everything to do with the brotherhood of the solder; the honor and the pride.
I can only hope I did justice to my feelings in it.
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I don't want to be a meteor
This is something I wrote totally for myself and was never going to show it to anyone - ever.
It speaks too much from my soul, too much from my heart, and too much from my inner being.
I've always known I had two choices when it came to writing. I would either write strictly for me and never show myself for fear of rejection or criticism, or I would write totally free and open and damned the consequences. It took me a long time to choose the latter. The selection, if you read into it, tells.
It's a funny thing about confession. Once you've admitted to everyone and made your confession, the fears disappear.
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Dance, Nova, Dance
I'm a dog person. I always have been a dog person, so when a stray kitten came to my door step a few years back I was reluctant to pay any attention. After three days even I broke down and adopted my first cat.
I named her No VA because she had no VA benefits and was in my care. When I first took her to the veterinarians for a check up I was informed that 'Nova' was a wonderful name and I was very creative to think of it. So, ever since then she has come to be known as Nova, Star of Distant Galaxies.
Nova and I talk a lot. She was the first one to tell me of the elves of the forest. Oh, I know, I was a non-believer too, but she has since proved it to me so who am I to doubt.
Nova has proven to be a good companion for someone who sometimes forgets to feed her or take her for a walk. I can only hope that I have been worthy to her also.
Dance, Nova, Dance came to be written because of her excitement in a wondrous event in her life - the birth of an elf. There is more to this but that's another story, another time.
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Anonymous, Lloyd, and me
I was debating on throwing this piece to the demons in my wood stove. Long ago I read a poem, or was it a short story about another anonymous.
Recently I met an old friend who I had not seen in a long, long time. We belong to the fraternity of brotherhood some know as veterans here in America.
This selection was done very quickly - for his benefit around Christmas this past year. I can only hope that I have not remembered too much of that other anonymous.
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Oh Mother, Oh Mom, Oh dear
Oh why, oh why...about a year ago I was tired from having worked almost the whole night on another project of mine and not yet wanting to sleep, laid down to rest a few minutes. As I put my head back on the pillow the words 'Oh mother, oh mom, oh dear' came into my brain.
Oh mother, oh mom, oh dear! Don't ever try that with a vicious rhyme in your tired, weary head. I couldn't rest. I couldn't even lay still. I got up and finished the poem? only to regret it ever since.
My mother has never been a part of this of course and I hope she never has to see it either.
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Redemption of an errant Postal Clerk
This was one of five from what I termed my "errant Postal Clerk" series. I have one other left and the other three have bit the dust so to speak as I didn't save them. I suppose I have the outlines round somewhere but I don't know if I'll revive them.
"Redemption" was perhaps one of the better ones. I 'signed' each of them with a pen name only I knew - Silas Merrill. I suppose that name has special meaning to me.
While making fun of the Post Office in my "errant Postal Clerk" stories, I'm really making fun of the narrator, Silas Merrill, who sees in his funny ways, from 'his' world.
The purpose of these stories was really just to act as a platform from which I could develop short stories. I suppose I've learned some from doing them.
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