A couple of Gary’s haunting poems.

http://pzzzz.tripod.com/reveille.html

http://pzzzz.tripod.com/stare.html

I wanted to bump this up. In one of the poems it mentions John Wilson. I think he was a PFC KIA 1967.

Veteran’s Day 1982

Lest We Forget

Take your place on the machine;
Work the field alone;
Your son is dead.

Wash the clothing;
Think of his dirty jeans;
Your baby is dead.

Thumb through the yearbook;
See his picture there;
Your friend is dead.

Look up in the sky;
Be calm, young lady;
Your man is dead.

Is freedom sound?
His blood soaks the ground - -
Pretense of hope be shed;
Another boy in green is dead.

(When will it ever end?} rso

From ON FLOWER WREATH HILL by Ken Rexroth:


This world of ours, before we
Can know its fleeting sorrows,
We enter it through tears.
Do the reverberations
Of the evening bell of
The mountain temple ever
Totally die away?
Memory echoes and reechoes
Always reinforcing itself.
No wave motion ever dies.
The white waves of the wake of
The boat that rows away into
The dawn, spread and lap on the
Sands of the shores of all the world.

Fall 82

Thunder

I am encased totally in fire.
I am struggling to pull out
The gunner - -
I try not to breath in the flames - -
There is no sound.
Except a tremendous - - quiet roaring
All around - -
His arm tears away
And I fall to the ground
Somewhere far below - -

And watch as the turret detonates - -
It is the most splendid thing
I have ever seen - -

And the coolness - -
Of the fresh-turned Earth
Feels so good - -
And it is rocking gently - -

If only it had been thunder - -
I sleep so sound during
Thunderstorms - -


(Written in memoriam of some boys who died
in a Tank Park in Hohenfelds, Germany, 1972)

My stranger that I know so well


We grow together, and we grow apart
We keep each other close in heart
I know you better than you know yourself
And yet I barely recognize you when we meet
It scares me that we have both changed so much
Our love for each other has not nor will
We talk about the time we have shared
We talk about the times we have yet to have
But we don't really talk about the differences in our lives
We know the differences just mean we are not together
I still iron your uniforms ever Saturday
I polish your boots before bed even though they haven't been worn
I sleep with your picture in my hand
And I listen for the jingle of your dog tags on my neck when I move
I still fold your socks so that they stand on their own
I still use a ruler when folding your t-shirts, just to be accurate like you would want
I still don't sleep in our room even though you have told me to
I have learned that the words, "I love you" should always be the first because your calls often get disconnected without warning
I still smile when I talk about you, which is all the time
I have gotten to know everyone at the post office on a first name basis
And at church I still wish you were there with me talking to our friends like we use to
I pick up your bottle of cologne when I walk by it on the dresser and smell it still
In the shower I wash with your body wash before going to bed just so I can remember what you would smell like when coming to bed after a shower
It is still a goal to make a "gilly suit" like you did but I have come to realize I will need your hekp when you get back
I have learned where the oil goes in the truck, but still wish you were here to do it
I still put your name in the secret santa bowl when we draw names for Christmas
I still refuse to say goodbye, only see you later
I still smile when I introduce myself as your wife
And even though we are not together, we still crave the same foods at the same time
I have changed from girl to woman without you here but it happened because of you
And I still don't really know what a "code red" is, I just don't want to make you explain for the 100th time
I still don't walk on the grass on base even though you aren't here to tell me to stop
And even with the changes we have both gone through, you still know me best
And while you don't tell me much about what happens where you are, I still feel as if I know what you feel
Sometimes it does feel as if we are becoming strangers to each other...
But then I think about you...and know that I am with you always, I can read you thoughts, and I know your heart...
so I guess you are my stranger that I know so well...and I am o.k. with that my love

Arithmetic on the Frontier

A great and glorious thing it is
To learn, for seven years or so,
The Lord knows what of that and this,
Ere reckoned fit to face the foe --
The flying bullet down the Pass,
That whistles clear: "All flesh is grass."

Three hundred pounds per annum spent
On making brain and body meeter
For all the murderous intent
Comprised in "villanous saltpetre!"
And after -- ask the Yusufzaies
What comes of all our 'ologies.

A scrimmage in a Border Station --
A canter down some dark defile --
Two thousand pounds of education
Drops to a ten-rupee jezail --
The Crammer's boast, the Squadron's pride,
Shot like a rabbit in a ride!

No proposition Euclid wrote,
No formulae the text-books know,
Will turn the bullet from your coat,
Or ward the tulwar's downward blow
Strike hard who cares -- shoot straight who can --
The odds are on the cheaper man.

One sword-knot stolen from the camp
Will pay for all the school expenses
Of any Kurrum Valley scamp
Who knows no word of moods and tenses,
But, being blessed with perfect sight,
Picks off our messmates left and right.

With home-bred hordes the hillsides teem,
The troopships bring us one by one,
At vast expense of time and steam,
To slay Afridis where they run.
The "captives of our bow and spear"
Are cheap, alas! as we are dear.

Mrssgtsupergrunt, That was beautiful. Did you write that? I always told my wife seeya at supper; my last tour was 2 1/2 yeas long.

yes I did write that...thank you, I think the special thing about military couples is that we come up with cute ways of saying the "G" word...thanx again, and thanx for serving, wow 2 1/2 years...you are amazing!

DEATH'S SCREAM

Feel the heat in the jungle
Where there is no cross on the ground
My brother lies here buried
The last M I A is found

He died in nineteen ninety
Twenty years sleeping in a cell
His war has finally ended
His life was a living hell

Forgotten by his country
Whom he served with all his pride
He longed for her arms of freedom
And he blessed her as he died

God forgive his shameful nation
Who ignored his American dream
Goddamn the American government
Who denied that my brother screamed

An Angel In A Uniform Saved Me


He stood in front of me,
but didn't look down upon me.

He saw how I was,
but that isn't all he saw.

I stood in front of the tar pit,
I looked at in and cried.

I had created this all on my own,
and yet I wanted to blame everyone else.

I felt as if I needed to continue,
I thought it was all I was.

He knew better,
but he knew that I had to want it before he could help.

I dipped my toe in,
my tar pit was familiar in all I knew.

He stood there watching,
he just hung his head in disappointment.

He loved me so much and it hurt him more than me to see that,
he loved me even when I couldn't love myself.

He reached out to me,
his hand was there in offering.

I turned away to young to know what I was doing,
I continued to slip further in as I put my foot in.

He is a hero and has saved many,
I could never figure out why he tried so hard to save me from myself.

I slid the other foot in,
my past once again consuming me.

Once in I could hear the faint screaming of the friends and family i had lost to the same,
but I still didn't stop.

I turned to face him while he stood tall in his Blues,
his arm was still extended out to me for my taking.

This Hero shed tears for me,
his tears fell as he seen me sinking further.

I was almost up to my knees now,
the screams got louder and I became most comfortable.

I didn't see what my future held,
but he seen what it could be.

He asked me, "why?"
I told him, "because I belong here, I belong in my tar pit and it feels right."

He stepped closer to me and told me to give him my hand,
I told him I didn't want help.

He said he wasn't trying to help me,
he wanted to show me something.

I gave him my small, shaky hand...
Not knowing this new feeling he was showing me

He took my hand and held it firmly with confidence,
He placed it on his chest where his heart laid under.

"I can show you an amazing place where an amazing lady such as yourself belongs" he said,
"You don't know who i am or what I have done." I said

He said "I don't care what you have done, and it doesn't make you who you are,
I cried for the first time in years.

I pulled my hand away as I tried to pull myself up,
as I struggled to pull myself out I only sunk farther.

"Take my hand, trust me." he said,
I continued to try to save myself on my own.

I was now waist deep,
but I refused any help.

"Trust me" he said in a gentle firm voice,
"now that you want help, I can help you."

The screams grew louder,
they begged me to join them.

"Trust me", he began to plead
"I won't let you sink if you only take my hand"

I refused to admit my need for help,
but I began to realize my fate if I continued.

I lifted my arm helplessly into the air as my face sank down with the rest of me,
I prayed that this Marine who had so much faith in me would not give up now.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed tight,
he was a man of his word even in the most terrifying times.

As he pulled me away from my tar pit I could feel my fears leaving me,
I no longer heard the screams from my past friend and family.

I was out completely,
as I went to kiss my hero I opened my eyes only to find myself dressed in white in a church.

I told you I wouldn't let you sink, now that you trust me...let me show you all the love you could have missed.

He knew my past and yet didn't see me any different,
he knew who I was even when I didn't know myself.

I will never know why he chose me,
but I am thankful for the love and life he shows me everyday.

I could never imagine a love like this,
but then again I could have never imagined a Hero like him.

At my first duty station at Ft Story, Va. we had some friends who were Navy(YES! YES! I admit it they were Navy)The wife would not wash the last tee shirt her husband wore before he shipped out for deployment. We were married 10 years before I enlisted in the Reserves and when I went Active the kids just accepted it that that was part of the job. I was deployed to DS/DS when my pre-teen daughter watching a concert of "New Kids On The Block" one of the kids ran up and down the stage wearing the Colors as a cape. They were no longer her favorites. I know this is for poetery but how about some prose too? My grand daughter had the roughest time with PePa gone most of her life.

I still have the last shirt my husband wore before he left, refuse to wash it but he laughs at me. I remember he took it off and changed into his other clothes before we drove to the airport...here is a picture of the last kiss we had...someone there took it and said that there was so much emotion in it...I look at it often

[IMG:left] [/IMG]

quote:

Originally posted by SGTBJH:
At my first duty station at Ft Story, Va. we had some friends who were Navy(YES! YES! I admit it they were Navy)The wife would not wash the last tee shirt her husband wore before he shipped out for deployment. We were married 10 years before I enlisted in the Reserves and when I went Active the kids just accepted it that that was part of the job. I was deployed to DS/DS when my pre-teen daughter watching a concert of "New Kids On The Block" one of the kids ran up and down the stage wearing the Colors as a cape. They were no longer her favorites. I know this is for poetery but how about some prose too? My grand daughter had the roughest time with PePa gone most of her life.

I would say go for it, I don't think there is a problem saying something that isn't technically poetry...I don't really think anyone will have a problem....

In July and August of 1968 the 27th infantry operated in and around Tay Ninh City and the mountain Nui Ba Den. There I experienced some of the fiercest fighting of my tour of duty. Nearly every man in 2nd Battalion Delta Company Third Platoon was wounded or killed. Although we received heavy casualties 1st and 2nd Battalion Wolfhounds continued to rack up some of the highest NVA body counts of the war. The memory of the battles and those who fell remain with me today.

My Poem: “ Good Morning Nui Ba Den”

There’s a mountain in Vietnam
10 km northeast of the city of Tay Ninh.
It’s hallow ground where GI’s died
And many NVA met their end.
Sometime know as the Black Virgin
This mountain is called Nui Ba Den.

Uncle Sam made it crystal clear
1968 was my Vietnam year.
My jungle fatigues were mountain green
But only once were they ever clean.
I fought not far from Tay Ninh
Near the foot of the mountain Nui Ba Den.

Engines of eagles in fiery flights
Heat up an already angry night.
Tracers scorch a battlefield of violence.
Someone yells out, “PLEASE GOD SILENCE’’.
Not to far from Tay Ninh
Beside the mountain Nui Ba Den.

The dust the dirt the rock hard ground
Get down low when the mortars pound.
Weapons so hot they begin to smoke.
The dead enemy around us had begun to bloat.
Charlie knew we weren’t finished yet
Through blood and the sweat we were his worse threat
Not to far from Tay Ninh
The war rage on near Nui Ba Den.

Lost patrols haunt days past
How much longer can this war last ?
In the battle duty calls
A warrior moves up and another falls.
Not to far from Tay Ninh
Near the mountain Nui Ba den.

The morning shines on a battle gory
In this war there is no glory.
Standing tall a soldier worn
A Majestic Knight he begins to mourn.
Not to far from Tay Ninh
In the shadow of the mountain Nui Ba Den.

Forever in a field of dreams
I will hear the battle screams.
Maybe I left my soul there
Still lurking in the dark somewhere.
Wondering when this war will end
Hiding in the mountain Nui Ba Den

Ask the soldiers who have fallen
Was it worth it in the end ?
Perhaps they’ll hear your beckon calling
Those who died near Tay Ninh
Within the sight of Nui Ba Den.


Terry Ballentine “Wolfhound”
2/27 Infantry Delta Co. 3rd Platoon
Wounded (Tay Ninh) August 20th 1968