always expect the unexpected. That way when evil shit happens it won't be such a big surprise.
nice! he seems to invert everything in his poems. my favorite cummings line is: the aim of waking is to dream.
Ok, I've just done a post about your post. It got me right in the ticker. ;-)
Beautiful and poignant.
What they do for us, can never be measured. Sometimes, we forget this.Thanks for the reminder.
As a past soldier, this definitely hits home. A very emotional piece to say the least. Thank you for posting this.
Beautiful Jim. ((Hugs))Laura
Alright man, don't come complaining to me when Al-Qaeda blows up your favorite bar.
Alan, Mike, Nicole, Col Bury.... thank you very much for stopping by. I am somewhat an irregular blogger, with an extreme sense of having no distinct purpose in blogging. It works best for me that way.... I will certainly be by to visit! :)Randal....ppppffffffttt... now why would they do that?
OK, I don't really do poetry, I struggle to understand it and write it but that photo and that short poem has just brought tears to my eyes. There are too many of our own soldiers being killed and injured and for what up to now? Are we any closer to ending this war? My brother-in-law's step son goes there in August. You can only hope he stays safe, because praying doesn't help anybody. Nice post mate.(Revised comment. A bad choice of words in original that I wrote in the spur of the moment. Apologies if anyone was offended. My heart ruled my brain.)
You are very serious my friend....It makes me think of a poem of Arthur Rimbaud." The sleeper of the valley ""le dormeur du val" in french.I am going to try to translate the end. It is very hard with poem :("Perfumes do not make shudder the nostril;He sleeps in the sun, the hand on his chest,Quiet. He has two red holes in the righthand."
I found translation! Pfff....It is a green hollow where a stream gurglesCrazily catching from grasses ragsOf silvery; where the sun, from the proud mountain,Shines: it is a little valley bubbling over with lights.A young soldier, with his mouth open, uncovered head,With the nape of his neck bathing in the cool blue cresses,Is sleeping; he is stretched out on the grass, under the skies,Pale in his green bed where light is raining.His feet in wild gladiolas, he is sleeping. Smiling asA sick child would smile, he is having a nap:Cradle him warmly, Nature : he is cold.No perfume makes his nostrils quivering;He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breastAt peace. There are two red holes in his right side.
David.... absolutely no worries! Every man's son should/could/will come home safely. Coming home safely is the only thing of war that makes sense. I hope he comes home well and hardy.DadAh, mon ami.... Je ne savais pas si ee cummings traduirait facilement. Il est mon poète préféré. Je devrai lire Rimbaud si je peux trouver une copie décente dans l'anglais! Comment va la saison pour vous ? Les touristes commencent-ils à venir ?J'avoue beaucoup que je ne suis pas lu des auteurs français .... sauf Alexandre Dumas.... J'aime Dumas! soyez patients avec .... américain stupide il y a tellement je ne sais pas.
Great post, rekindles the question in my mind whether or not humanity is actually an intelligent species.
BB.... no, they"re not.
The problem with living in a police state is that eventually they have the only jobs available. This is a tender and beautifully done piece. I hope one day there will be no more wars. Life is dangerous enough without them.
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