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A Poem I wrote a while back for a class. Found it cleaning up the computer...

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WCGreen Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue Dec-22-09 01:30 AM
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A Poem I wrote a while back for a class. Found it cleaning up the computer...
It was firefly dusk,
Sweaty, muggy, pell mell running fast behind twilight.
And no one wanted the days last tag.
If it was left off, unrequited, before the break,
It would spill over, a terrible fate,
With redemption spanning
The long stretch till Easter gathering.

A giant black lump coal truck lumbers up the incline,
The last before nightfall.
The young one's stop to revel in the shudder.
Too easy, the no tag rule kicks in,
When the outside world intervenes,
Somehow disrupting the match.
There was no sport in that.
When the black dust turns the bend to depot,
The chase resumes, now all the more frantic.

Perched over the coal dusky town
Like a buzzard watching, waiting the dying day,
The night shift warning siren stands ready.
And then, it screeches, a long mournful wail,
Piercing the heavy summer air,
Vibrating into the back country.
To natives, the sign of another shift in earth,
To players, a two minute warning.

Now Jed pulls himself from the squeaky,
Rust blotched porch glider,
The Hero taking to the killing field.
Younger cousins squeal with delight,
Now that the eldest has finally joined the fray.
The halfback weaves through the throng untouched,
Evading all to stand before the paralyzed it.

A slight feint, just the hint of a dodge and it is done,
The Sacrifice complete.
As the fourteenth whisper tags the first,
The man but still all boy cousin smiles down
From the lofty height of eighteen.

On cue, the final siren sounds,
Signaling true defeat for the day.
With cold, detached efficiency,
Grandma, aunts, mothers, older sisters spring into action,
Mustering the troops for the gatherings final assault,
On the day, only sleep and dreams remain.

Jed took it all the commition in,
That night he would sleep content,
Carrying that it with him into forever,
Memories of youth now spilled.
Before the sun or brood could rise,
The junior warrior leaves,
Only the men were stirring,
Staring at faded kitchen Linoleum,
Kicking at nothing,
Harry, George, Steve knew,
Had seen it up close,
Bill only heard, too young for FDR,
But all of them,
Struggling hard to let only pride escape,
Showed no fear, showed no concern, gave no quarter.
And then, under a puff of diesel so dank,
Motor Gray Cherbus sucks youth away,
Pulling out just before,
The phoenix whistle jolts the town of coal back to life.
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NanceGreggs Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue Dec-22-09 02:11 AM
Response to Original message
1. I had no idea ...
Knew you were good - but not this good.
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WCGreen Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue Dec-22-09 02:29 AM
Response to Reply #1
2. Why thank you kindly....
I actually turned the Poem into a short story that I am still tinkering with...
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CaliforniaPeggy Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Tue Dec-22-09 02:36 AM
Response to Reply #2
3. IIRC...
The Last It.

An excellent story.

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Ozymanithrax Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Wed Dec-23-09 02:49 AM
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4. You combine character and image beautifully.
I enjoyed this very much.
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