I live in a paramilitiary zone,
it's a lonely place
yet, I'm hardly ever alone,
eyes to the left of me
& eyes to the right,
what is mankind fighting for-
the freedom to fight?
clenched jaws, faces set
with piercing eyes, probing,
I don't want to be probed-
I want to be on my way,
just let me saunter to the shops
with a jaunty air & a ready smile,
let me tarry, chat awhile,
'bout nothing in particular at all,
little johnny's chicken pox at number 42,
Mrs. O'Leary's seventh baby
as bonny as bonny could be,
how to stretch the dinner-
with extra guests for tea,
let me chat awhile...
instead I clutch my bag to myself
like a comforter, & think on
what mammy said,
"don't you tarry child,
straight there & back-
you hear? I don't want to lose
another child with a bullet
in the head"
I don't want my mammy to cry
like she may never stop again,
I couldn't bear to think
of her hiding in her pain,
I march briskly, then
& I see the irony of this...
Author notes
nb anonymous contest entry nb pertaining to the "Troubles" the sectarian divide within Northern Ireland between Catholics and Protestants which claimed the lives of many and disaffected the lives of many more,this is set in the 70's.
A contest entry
- What is innocence? by Wonderwhenitllrain.
300 points, ended June 26, 2007, 13 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Write me a Poem about History {{Editted to Allow Pre-Writes}} by SpydurPoet.
705 points, ended August 19, 2007, 27 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Wow. That was a powerful write. Such a travesty that it was for that reason. Thanks for entering!
Write on!
~*~SP~*~
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such a lovley write, but so sad, i can only comment with a similiar poem that i wrote about a mother and her soldier boy off to war.
The lead balloons.
His mama used to
buy him red balloons
when he was a wee lad
and watch his eyes sail upward
with that helium orb
in a vertical flight
as a smile stretched
in horizontal delight
across his face
he'd dance as it bobbed
and he'd bob as it danced
on the end of a string
in the warm April breeze
and he shout in a tiny voice
"I Love you....Mom!"
as they both tiny stepped
up the avenue to home.
~~~~~~~~~~~
His mama bought a red balloon
the day he left and launched it
in honor of her grown up son
in a vertical salute as he
flew somewhere far above
on a horizontal path
across the earth's orb
a tight smile crossed his lips
as he landed and embarked
on a mission for his homeland
that red balloon exploded
the very next day
two hundred and twenty miles
from where she let it go
and in the warm desert breeze
not too many weeks later
a piece of lead ballooned
inside the chest of her dear boy
his eyes ascended upward as
a splash of red imploded
then he danced and bobbed
as if on a string himself
and the men around him
heard him cry out in a tiny voice
"I love you, Mom." as he
tiny stepped a few feet and
fell down into a venue of death
that would bring her only child home
~
in Arlington
upon the date
that fate stole
her sweet son
among the many crosses
that stretch across
an endless field
the white is almost pure
but for a tiny spot of red
that sails above one cross
and highlights
the intensity of a
precious Mothers love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis
~~~~O
---/
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i liked this piece, it was very neat, creative, i like it
good luck in the contest
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Wow, this is really good, but sooooooo sad.
I love this poem, yet a tear drips down to my feet.
This is exactly what I was looking for.
Awesome job and thanks for entering
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this is really good...I loved reading this piece a lot. good luck in the contest
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excellent write! well written and expressed! thanks for entering! take care, sam (Dreams27) xxxx
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loved the last two lines
'march' just like the military despite wanting life to be normal. the desire for every day life is strong in this. you've shown hard that can be.
thanks for an excellent entry. next contest i will add even more honorable mentions
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Very ecellent always i just love how this is so thought provoking
very deep. I think it would of been better if you wrote "mummu" not mamm -
You've written the irony and the difficulties of the military life and war with such clarity. The narrative style of this poem enhances its impact so very well, especially the voice of the child. Once again you've shown us how talented you are, especially when it comes to societal issues, my friend - you are way ahead of most poets here on AP. A very moving piece that moves at a brisk pace - just like a march, yet there is something of a slow march here too. Wonderful - and an eye-opener!
~ Nicolette
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Brilliant work...
You have captured and set forth the scene and feelings spot-on. It also expresses the irony as understood and grasped by the eyes and senses of a child. Wonderful piece! Mat
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Good
So many places like that
Not enough women like that
I would have said "tarry" for wait, dawdle, enjoyably purposeless, but "tally" is nice - Caribbean tone. And overtone of wait for the reckoning.
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I feel the spirit of building the bridges midst the turmoil of a life seen, the pain continues and the fight is neer ending when so many still fear to peek out the blinds. Strong sis and full of the irony as you say, it is not so long ago it is still now and we ask 'how long must we sing this song'... Love, C
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Poignant as always.
I know only too well where you are coming from with this piece, been there, done that for more years than I can remember and even in a time when we are supposedly living in stability here in Northern Ireland there are times when it feels like things have never changed. People are still afraid to walk the streets at certain times and it's horrendous in this day and age that this unfortunately still exists. When you can be beaten to death merely for wearing the jersey of the team you supoort !!! Oh I don't know, as always your poem has left me really questioning the world we live in. Best wishes my dear friend and congrats on another wonderful piece of poetry.
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This is such a powerful write!
I really like the perspective that you wrote this from, and what the mammy said...
War is such a horrible things... I wish there was never again any war...
Thanks for sharing this!
Keep up the excellent work!
Annie
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I remember the poetry and conversations when we first came to meet...And I know how near and dear you hold matters of war and respect for veterans close to your heart.
Not only does this poem speak of current situations of war, but when with the EX he was a BIG Civil War buff, and the tone of this poem felt so much even to that era...There's a tenderness and compassion written through it, especially as to the words of the Mammy spoken in the quotes. It's to really hear the VOICE of this person ringing through.
The close is the irony of the poem itself and very powerful. Excellent writing...
Jo
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WOW TO HAVE LIVED THROUGH THAT, I THINK THAT IT WOULD BE HARD, I GREW UP IN A SEMI-RURAL COMMUNITY, WE HAD NOTHING TO FEAR, NO MURDERS OR VIOLENCE, THEN THE YEAR I WAS A JUNIOR IN HIGHSCHOOL WE HAD THE FIRST BIT OF REAL CRIME AN ELDERLY LADY WAS ROBBED AND MURDERED IN HER HOME, AND THE BOY WHO PERPATRATED THIS CRIME WAS MY FRIENDS LITTLE BROTHER WHO WAS FRIENDS WITH MY YOUNGER BROTHER. THINGS CHANGED IN OUR SMALL COMMUNITY, I DON'T THINK I WOULD WANT TO LIVE ANYWHERE ELSE, WE STILL ARE A SMALL COMMUNITY.....BEAUTIFUL PIECE!!!!!
THIS IS THE PART I LIKED!!!
instead I clutch my bag to myself
like a comforter, & think on
what mammy said,
"don't you tally child,
straight there & back-
you hear? I don't want to lose
another child with a bullet
in the head"
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The freedom to fight, and to take everyone down with them, which sadly includes the innocent too. Soo true,
all over the world.
I love the ending of this piece; the irony of marching.
Well done.
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Wow. So much to cover in this short journey to the store or whatever. You did an excellent job of trapping thoughts within a moment in time. It was skillful, how you layered and weaved it all together. That is so how our mind works, so many thoughts related by a single thread but if we blurted out any of our isolted thoughts at one time they would not make sense to anyone but us.
In a side note, I lived in a wonderful neighborhood surrounded by a not so wonderful one. It seems that as lower middle class Blacks moved out of the city and into the suburbs, the middle class whites who could afford it moved out, often in such a haste to leave, they sold their house to anyone who could barely afford it. Some of those who could barely afford the house worked 2 or 3 jobs, leaving children to grow up and tend for themselves.
Without proper parental guidance, some of these kids banded together and formed gangs. Funny, they developed the exact same life style their parents were working so hard to isolate them from.
Anyway, I walked to and from school every day. There weren't a lot of shootings going on then though. Punks carried knives or chains or pipes and very few fights resulted in loss of life.
I feel for children now who have to worry about adult issues and crime when learning about themselves and doing school work is enough of a challenge.
Then when I pull back and look at the world, it seems we all are clutching our bags and watching our backs.
GOD never intended life to be this way. We sure have screwed things up.
Sorry, didn't mean to ramble.
I loved your poem.
John
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