It was nineteen sixty eight
and I was six years old.
My mother and I had driven
for what seemed to me all day.
We kept the windows down
because it was hot
I watched dust clouds
chasing the old car.
On the Am radio the news.
Ten more American soldiers died
in Vietnam.
I thought of war
like a six year old.
Watched John Wayne
more than once.
I wanted to be like him.
I would go fight
when I was old enough.
I had already shot
my father's rifle.
He had served in Korea,
but never said a word.
My Grandfather wheezed
and coughed from Mustard gas.
He had fought, but said nothing.
The car rambled down the old road
All the way to the Yakima firing range
where they were building a bridge
that my father was working on.
I asked my mother if this was where
the soldiers fight. Half listening
she simply said yes.
I began looking for the war,
but all I seen was sage.
I wanted to see those John Wayne’s
killing those yellow men.
But all I saw was and empty horizon
that went on and on.
So I learned the first lesson in war,
that it is never what we expect.
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Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Very lovely piece. War is definitely not what one expects, for humans who have never fought tend to glorify it. Giving it a sense of honor and valor, when truly war is only about survival for those that choose to fight or have to fight. Maybe they start out with heroics in mind, but I think reality has a way of tarnishing those ideals very quickly and covering them in blood and sorrow. I really enjoyed this piece. Hugs, Bunny
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A weighty subject, indeed. I am afraid that this glorification of war that you debunk is common to more than just six year olds. I like how you used the father and grandfather to show the true, somberness of war and yet maintained the innocent perspective of the six year old.
A nicely done poem. You have a few proofreading errors that you could take care of and polish thing one right up. "but all I SAW was sage," "John Waynes" (plural, no possessive apostrophe)," "all I saw was AN empty horizon." Anyway, these are just minor distraction... the poem still speaks for itself. Well done!
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Very Good
In 68 i was 18 and did not think I would be on my way to VietNam at 191/2. This was very good.
Joe
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Capturing this timetable of yesteryear is brilliant and sad too that there was such a time as this, but on the bright side I was only 3 yrs old then LOL, loved it again of course.
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i love your poems like this cause i get to know a little bit more about the poet, keep it flowing .
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