John Moran
Stats
Pastime trenz pruca
Hometown seattle, washington
job photographer
interests landscape, portrait, travel
Poem Titles
> ACROSS
> GRACE
> LATE BLOOMER
ACROSS
Al Anderson died today
He was 109
The last
He didn't die 91 years ago
Head peering from his trench
Into the cold December mist
He'd heard them before
The voices
Across
They'd jeered and called out
But now they sang
A Silent Night that came to say
The killing would have to wait a day
They appeared atop the mist
A tentative wave unfurled
Making its way
Across
Feeling their blind path
Toward smiles or bullets
But they sensed, hoped
Then beer and smokes and warm woolies
Extended, received, returned
Guarded laughs over tentative grins
Demons, wild dogs no more
Chained across no man's land
The unspoken pact
Of Silent Night that came to say
The killing would have to wait a day
It spread as the fog
A soft silent zephyr
Across
Songs and stories
And Fritz beat Tommy 3 to 2
But they need not fear
His will to fight would reappear
And 10 million more would die
After Silent Night came to say
The killing would have to wait a day
________________________________
GRACE
Some simply flow
With a natural grace
Just seem to have a knack to be
Themselves
Effortless poetry
-------------------------------
Late Bloomer
Where is my apogee
Far behind
Lost in memory
Erased by years
Does humility
Hide it from me
Never to know
Which way to go
Will I ever
Know the pride
Or
Just hurry past
To the downward side
Or
Could it be
That my apogee
Is still
Ahead of me
