A little more poetry

My eldest son, Ben, in addition to his dear wife, is also a poet. At the request of a friend, here are a few of his older poems. When I can convince him or Elsa to send me more poems, I will let you all share them here.

If impossibly...

If impossibly somehow

I have impressed a something

of myself upon you,

knowing or un- or even

if sometimes, then let me be

the way you see the moonlight,

let me be your blink

at the far too brightly sunshine,

or if you will allow

me to be the toss of your hair

in the gently midnight wind,

or perhaps the sweetest twitch

of your smile when you see the stars;

if ever impossibly then,

let me be your voice,

let me be your forever

melody or harmony or simply

song. Let me be one

and so shall you, and we

shall be two and be together.

When the Purple Heart Stopped Beating

My grandfather never told

me, but I heard how

in’45 he was ordered to hold

an insignificant farm house

against an unlooked-for thousand,

and he did show me

the scars

once. But I always (wars

and all) admired the medals.

He left us, angry

because there wasn't a damn

thing left and he couldn't breathe;

asbestos got him in his bed

waiting for something that he could see.

Is it worth trying

where failure is certain?

Is there a single striving

moment of nobility,

somehow,

in the aiming, in the dying

fall of a dream pursued?

Is there something

in death-denied driving,

a poignant purpose

for the lost fought-for cause?

It took a machine-gun,

an entire division

to get Grandpa out of that house,

but when he lost hope

he laid down and stared

and wheezed.

A hope that is seen

is not a hope at all.