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The Playwrights Forum > The Art & Craft of Writing > Poet's Corner : Critique my Poem > WHE LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOMED - May 2, 2007

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WHE LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOMED - May 2, 2007  Rate Topic 
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 Posted: Fri May 4th, 2007 04:40 pm
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in media res
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WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOMED - May 2, 2007

In unearned homage to Walt Whitman





For all our soldiers

Iraq, Afghanistan,

Walter Reed,

Those gone,

Those safely home with their families:

Today, the neighbors’ lilac bush

Came almost to full bloom.



I stopped.



I thought of you.

Your dedication. Your families’ sacrifice.



I thought of me.

Our citizens’ sacrifice.

My family’s sacrifice.

My friends’ sacrifice.

My FDNY friend lost and crushed on September 11

Our $ 3.35 gasoline.

Etc.



I thought of

Our politician’s and Generals’ bumbling and lying

Looking forward to their government pensions,

And shameless war profiteers

All filched from my wasted taxes from my well-worn wallet.

I feel every wasted penny in my well-worn soul,

And heart.

And children will feel every wasted penny in their futures

And pay for the elder/parental disregard.


No more, ” Oh Captain, my Captain.”

The Captains have had enough;

Are overloaded.



The visions, thoughts and feelings

Faster than Hitchcok’s shower scene in “Psycho,”

But more bloody

And in color

And live

Or dead.


I stuck my nose in the center of the lilac bush

And breathed deeply, as I do every spring

With this lilac bush.

Old friends.

A city bus went by

With diesel exhaust.

Oil.


I inhaled the lavender lilac scent

With more strength.

For all of you.

For all of me.

For all of us.



Wars are wars.

Humans plant them.

Humans nurture them.

They come.

They go.

They come again.

Perennials.



And the lilac bush returns,

Accomplishing nature's sacred mission,

Wondering

Exhaling

Whispering

“Why?”




in media res

Last edited on Fri May 4th, 2007 06:11 pm by in media res

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 Posted: Sat May 5th, 2007 01:37 pm
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DWolfman
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Joined: Sun Jun 11th, 2006
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Mana: 
in media res wrote: And the lilac bush returns,

Accomplishing nature's sacred mission,

Wondering

Exhaling

Whispering

“Why?”


Brings to mind "The Last Hour" by Georgia poet Daniel Whitehead Hickey:

"It will not vary under any star: We are no stronger than the roses are."

Thanks for a moment of sanity.

-DW-

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