- Non-Erotic Poetry
- His Disappearance
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Click hereOne morning, he packed early
A baseball cap, a glove
Two lines on the kitchen table
Not even breakfast.
Left.
At Fort Knox, by twelve hundred,
Reporting to duty.
A big disappearance act!
Now it has all come to that.
He loved all the bands and the Punk
And dancing he loved,
Classes and homework
Little less
But Mr. Johnson in math said
He’d send the best letter yet
To UMD
But he loved,
Just loved
To play
Digital Heroes vs. Heroes
In the Field.
Now it has all come down to that.
Sometimes we used to fight
Yes, you could say a good kid
The few smiles left
On the pictures we hanged
They could not tell,
His pale friends
They wouldn’t tell
Anything else
But now somehow,
It still has all come down to that.
He has become a hero in the field
Finally making it
His big disappearance.
- COMMENTS
I would imagine we all know him and particularly at this time of war, this poem is thoughtful and meaningful, leaving your reader a bit teary-eyed at the conclusion. Moving ~ JaneAusten
Powerfully painful and real. This really drew me in, the way I suspect you intended. Extraordinary work.
For my generation, there were not yet computer games or even video games. There was just the adventure of reality, the rush of real risk-taking. You knew you faced the real world and there was no 'Restore'. So at 20, whether the year is 1965 or 2005, you face the world filled with confidence; it's only those who have gone before that carefully weigh the true odds and feel the true fear — they know the true reality. And all these feelings are here.
It's as if the invulnerability of the ever-ressurecting game character is passed through the hand controls into the children who play the game. You capture this so well. Life's a game but tragically, so is Death and how can one be a hero if they don't go away, only to return in glory?
Sad, true and infinitely tragic. Thanks for your poetry.
Thank you much for the heart felt feedback. Although I never try to hide my political view of the current war, what drove me here was the observation of the personal experience of shock and incomprehension families of young soldiers who at a young age decide to join the military adventure. They are so young they still have no sense of vulnerability. They crave for more and more excitement. Seemingly the boundaries between games and pretend and reality are still somewhat blurred. Life is mostly ahead of them. They could be extremely talented and promising in many areas, and then suddenly their abrupt death seems to be as surreal as the digital games of mutual annihilation are. Only later, gradually the sense of true reality slowly starts to creep in.
i have come to look forward to your story poems. you are so real, so concise. You have spoken to me about what you felt were problems with your writing, but they are so minute, insignificant, your words, well they transcend any imperfection you might perceive.
thank you for your notes to me and g_g and maria. we all have appreciated your kindness and support. you have grown swiftly, your work is generous and feeling. i look forward to every day hoping you have a new one posted. thank you for everything.
It all comes down to that...a memory in a field, a final disappearance. This reminds me of the Tim McGraw song about which I wrote a story not posted here - "If You're Reading This, I'm Already Home." I love the way you produce voice here...those who remember, whether they are indifferent, fond, sarcastic, exasperated. All are heard...
I like this, but I'm sure you're not surprised!