I've been working on today's poem for about a week...but it's not finished. (See yesterday's post.) But yesterday's Monday Mission, to write a post in the form of a news story, somehow connected my brain to a period of time when everything I wrote was a reaction to things I saw on the television or on my computer screen. I was a junior in college. I hadn't been writing poetry very long (less than a year), but already I was trying to work out craziness by writing poems.
Late March, 1999: Three U.S. soldiers went missing on the Yugoslav-Macedonia border.
April 1, 1999: Yugoslavia displayed the three captured soldiers, battered and bruised.
April 20, 1999: The Columbine massacre.
There were other things; a train was shot by a missile and at least ten people died, a truck full of refugees was accidentally bombed, thousands of refugees searched for safety. And much more, these are just the images I remember. It seemed to me that the world was just turned upside down.
And so I wrote. A lot.
Here are a couple of the poems.
I close my eyes and still see the three bruised faces from CNN Headline News
I want to throw my
glass at the wall and
watch it shatter into
seventeen hundred tiny
diamonds. I glare
at one cat when
he attacks
the other. And
the sun
shines.
April 1999
I want to write about how I feel but I don't know how
Thousands of
people, stacked
legos, create an
alien
landscape. A child
sprouts from the
soil, reaching
for sunlight, water, the
chance to
grow.
April 1999
There were more, many more. But that's a taste. This post wasn't exactly what I'd planned...hopefully I can have a new poem for next week.
By the way, the Little Mister is feeling better. He's finally eating. He's still sleeping a lot, but when he's awake he's more alert and much happier.
Late March, 1999: Three U.S. soldiers went missing on the Yugoslav-Macedonia border.
April 1, 1999: Yugoslavia displayed the three captured soldiers, battered and bruised.
April 20, 1999: The Columbine massacre.
There were other things; a train was shot by a missile and at least ten people died, a truck full of refugees was accidentally bombed, thousands of refugees searched for safety. And much more, these are just the images I remember. It seemed to me that the world was just turned upside down.
And so I wrote. A lot.
Here are a couple of the poems.
I close my eyes and still see the three bruised faces from CNN Headline News
I want to throw my
glass at the wall and
watch it shatter into
seventeen hundred tiny
diamonds. I glare
at one cat when
he attacks
the other. And
the sun
shines.
April 1999
I want to write about how I feel but I don't know how
Thousands of
people, stacked
legos, create an
alien
landscape. A child
sprouts from the
soil, reaching
for sunlight, water, the
chance to
grow.
April 1999
There were more, many more. But that's a taste. This post wasn't exactly what I'd planned...hopefully I can have a new poem for next week.
*******
By the way, the Little Mister is feeling better. He's finally eating. He's still sleeping a lot, but when he's awake he's more alert and much happier.
Heartwrenching poems. Your pain is evident.
ReplyDeleteGlad the little one is feeling better:)
Poignant Poetry. Sick babies are so sad, glad yours is perking up.
ReplyDeleteThese were lovely in such a haunting way. Nicely done. See ya.
ReplyDeleteFound your blog through a comment on another... wanted to say "hi" because I am a fellow military spouse, Air Force now, and I had my first baby (12 years ago) when we were living in Germany, but my husband was Army then. Your blog brought back memories, and I liked your poetry, too. Keep writing and keep caring; looks like you're doing a great job in both aspects.
ReplyDeleteI have always loved your poetry. Gives me inspiration to try my own.
ReplyDeleteImages from the news always haunt me, too.
ReplyDelete