Poetry — In Memory of the Fallen III

Prisoners of War

We walked on shards, metal slivers
that sliced clean through our cardboard soles
We were told to move on, not to linger here
there was no comfort in this place anyway

We marched single file through mud and rain
so cold that we could no longer feel our bodies
we stumbled and fell
The butt end of a rifle slammed into our backs
such force, we collapsed face first into the mud

Pulling us up by our jackets, they set us upright
gently nudging us with the rifle this time
And on we went, two days and two nights,
no food or water, only a few hours sleep,
just forging ahead to somewhere

We weren’t allowed to speak
just a code of nods and winks got us through
When we finally reached our destination
a battle had ensued
There was nothing left of the camp but death
Our code traveled down the line: attack

With but twenty of them and a hundred of us,
we took our chances and advanced
slaying them easily with a snap of their necks
A few of us died and we buried them that day
but left our abductors out in the rain

© 2013 Lori Carlson

Poetry — In Memory of the Fallen II

Of Bow Ties and Battlefields

When I was a young lad,
Papa used to say
you can tell a lot about a man
by the way he ties his bow tie.
Front and center was a sign of dignity.
Papa lived his whole life that way,
dignified to the very end.

When the draft came,
I took my dignified bow tie
to the jungles of Vietnam,
but this was no place for dignity.
Only death and the dying consumed me.

I remember hearing Papa say
pick your battles boy
or someone will pick them for you.
How could I tell him that the battles raging here
were not just in a rice paddy,
but charging full speed ahead in my mind?

Broken in mind and body,
shame followed me home.
I couldn’t shake the dead,
nor could I face my Papa.

How can I make you understand?
all that fighting and killing, the senseless killing…
There was nothing dignified about this war.

Poetry — In Memory of the Fallen I

Home Fires Burning

Empty clothespins hung like readied soldiers off to slaughter
Our lives were like that then —
Harsh winters where clothes froze on lines
While troops lined up behind barricades too fragile to save them
Only the bitter cold prevented decimation or the will of God

We carried in coal in the mornings
Our hands and faces smeared with dust
We’d dip our fingers into ice cold water to wash it all away
While soldiers smeared icy mud on their clothes and faces
To blend in with the trenches.

Mother relied on rations to feed six kids and one on the way
Biscuits and water gravy were standards
If we didn’t want to starve, unlike starving
Soldiers who barely had enough bread and beans.

In the evenings, we chopped wood to bank the fires at night
Kindling first, then as much deadwood as we could find
Wet wood sat under tarps to dry
And green wood sat out in the elements to age
Like unseasoned soldiers, so green they cried at night.
They’ll toughen up real soon, if they survive.

We did whatever it took to keep the home fires burning,
While the men froze along in the ditches,
Some dying, some living, all wishing to go home.
And the winter’s angry breath blew —
Abandoned clothespins, soldiers slaughtered in war.

© 2013 Lori Carlson

Broken

Your words cannot mend me
even glue has no effect
there’s more than cracks here
whole pieces are missing
dashed away
by the hammer of your voice
the blade of your fist
the incessant screeching
of your boot against my back

You’ve shattered the best parts of me
left me broken, broken
no longer a woman
nor even human
you’ve reduced me
I am less than a speck of dust
on your guilt-ridden hands
Your apologies chime
empty, empty upon my ears

A Missive to Unfulfilled Love – From the Letters Series

Dearest One,

I watch you laughing
Your face shimmers in early winter sunlight
Your beauty draws a crowd
Who wouldn’t want to be with one so radiant?

I sip my coffee
Too afraid to be near you
Too scared that I will reach out
Smooth away a stray hair from your forehead
Or caress your cheek with my hand
I need more than a few moments of your time

I’ve dreamt of lifetimes with you
Whole years lost in your loving arms
Where moments like this
Feel strange with others touching you

Your eyes scan the room and land on mine
I smile; you smile
You cross the room, settling into a chair beside me
I try to listen to your excited chatter
But I cannot resist your lips
So perfectly formed and rosy wet

You lean over and kiss my cheek
Your hands squeezing mine
And then you are off again

You are a social butterfly
That everyone wants to capture
To pin on display
But my heart would break to see you that way

And so, I let you go
Over and over again

When It’s Too Much

If only you knew
how your voice claws
at my brain
rips it open
to the screaming
screaming
of my sanity

I can go
whole days
weeks even
without saying a word
instead, I listen
to the inner dialogues
of characters
chattering away
in my head

But not you
you always have tales
that beg to be told
your voice gets loud
louder and louder
until I no longer hear
the words
just the squeal
digging into my brain

I am too polite
to tell you
Please shut up

Haiku-A-Day in May — Day Eleven

“On Mother’s Day”

she gathers her chicks
snuggles them against her breasts
and wades through the pond

Haiku-A-Day in May — Day Ten

“Afternoon Nap”

curled in the bird bath
amidst birds fluttering by
calico sunbathes

Haiku-A-Day in May — Day Nine

“Romantic Rendezvous”

her lover awaits —
a blush from Nature’s pale cheeks
the first rosebud blooms

small stone

Jazz —
it may not always make sense
but it sure makes you feel good