I still wear his jeans

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

I still wear his jeans

and dream at night

and see the denim flying

from his favorite jeans

in
bits
and

pieces.

through the air


the moisture of his
blood
catching the sun.


as

I still hold his pillow

tight

at night.


and see his denim flying

in
bits

and pieces.


through the air


the moisture of his
blood
catching the sun.

a flick here and there

sinks into
the sand



as

I hold his daughter close

each and every night

and see his denim flying

in
bits

and pieces.

through the air


as the moisture of his
blood
catches the sun.


and I know he's never coming back

from Baghdad

and Faluja

and...

he'll never meet

his child.

his child.




because tonight I saw

the body parts

wrapped in

his favorite

jeans.

flying

in
bits
and

his pieces.

through the air as
the moisture of his
blood
caught the sun.
and didn't let go.



Tonight, I'll kiss his

daughter

once

for him.



end.

[NanceGreggs]

1. As always ...

... our resident poet touches our hearts and minds once again.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

2. Thanks, Nance...

this one was hard.

It hurt.

[SnohoDem]

3. heartbreaking n/t

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

6. It is... And unfortunately, it has happened too often.

peace.

[JohnnyLib2]

4. gulp

those funeral pictures....

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

5. Thanks... I had to ad the graphic after your comment....

:hug:

[Straight Shooter]

7. Heartbreaking poem. But he will meet his child ...

... in her dreams. He will be wearing denim, and they'll fly to the stars. Then he will brush the hair back from her face, and kiss her while she sleeps, just before the dawn.

:hug:

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

8. God, I hope so. thanks for the kick to help keep this sort of thing in the minds of

the people who might care about this sort of thing.

:hug:

[Straight Shooter]

9. I believe.

And I think there are so many who care, who cannot find the words.

I wish peace for you, also, as well as his child.

:hug:

[saged52]

10. your words, sir

creep right into my heart - every time
and I print them - and put them where many can read -
peace be with you -

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

11. There's been some rewriting on the piece...

Don't know if it's better or worse for you. the original is in my journal at the moment. The final will be on my website if you appreciate this sort of thing.

[Straight Shooter]

19. Is it better or worse?

It is what it is. It is the truth. More startling in its imagery, sadder, somehow makes me feel closer to him although I never knew him.

I am glad you added the part about kissing his child, a positive image, however fleeting, to remind us that love survives.

:hug:

[midnight]

12. I hope on Tuesday, that the voices that have been silenced

will be remembered at the polls.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

14. I'm with you...

but nothing we can do can bring them back.

The damage is done.

[bigbrother05]

13. as always right to the soul

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

17. Thx...

It keeps changing on me though...

[Marlie]

15. Thank you

Those words are so beautiful. In my mind, I also picture the Moms and Dads
who lost their sons and daughters in this dreadful war, wanting to kiss
their beloved child just one more time.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

16. Rewrite... I wear his jeans

I wear his jeans

and dream at night

and see the denim flying

from his favorite jeans

in
bits
and

pieces.

through the air


the moisture of his
blood
catching the sun.


as

I held/hold his pillow

tight

at night.

every night.


and saw/see the denim flying

in
bits

and pieces.


through the air


as the moisture of his
blood
caught the sun.

a flick here and there

sank/sinking into
the sand



as

I hold his daughter close

each and every night

to see the denim flying

in
bits

and pieces.

through the air


as the moisture of his
blood
caught the sun.


and I know he's never coming back

from Baghdad

or Faluja

and...

he never meet

his child.

his child.

his daughter.


because tonight I saw

the body parts

wrapped in

his favorite

Levis'.

flying

in
bits
and

his pieces.

through the air as
the moisture of his
blood
caught the sun.
and didn't let go.



Tonight, I'll kiss his

daughter

once

for him.


and wear his favorite jeans.



end.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

18. A kick for a major rewrite...

thank you. people.

[StraightDope]

21. And as soon as I post a critique...

My dumb ass sees the revised version.

This is excellent poetry. Evocative of things both common to all and specifically individual, it generates profound thoughts and feelings, as all truly superlative poetry should. Kudos.

K & R.

[StraightDope]

20. A bit pedantic, but undeniably powerful imagery.

The presentation could use a polishing or two, but I like the basic elements. e.e. cummings-esque use of visual form. Parts of it just drip down the page, particularly the refrain, but its impact is unfortunately diluted with the repetition.

DISCLAIMER: Just my $.02...

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

22. Good crit, thanx!

I agree, I'm still working on it. But then again, there are pieces I have worked on for 20 years.

:hi:

[az chela]

23. I was just laying here remembering the night my daughter

came over at around 10 at night and knocked on the door and I opened the door and tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking uncontronably and said Mom I have to tell you something horrible and she said Bobby,my son ws dead.I told her that was impossible,I had talked to him the day before and he was fine,laughing and in a good mood.He had been under the care of the Va and had his foot cut off a few years before he died and they had put him on methadone for the pain and it killed him.It still seems like a bad dream and one that will never go away.A mother losing her child is an unbearable thing and one none of us ever get over.The tears are still flowing down my face as I write this!!!!
I hope you sleep well at night george as you deserve to be destroyed for all the pain you have caused.A broken heart never heals but since you have no feelings you wouldnt know that.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

24. Am I George?

I am so sorry for the pain you have had to experience... I promise you, I have stories just as painful.

Please, know that I only hope to bring others think as we have thought.

It does bring tears.

It does bring pain.


It's part of life only far too often.

[upi402]

26. I started to post, I HATE THOSE W BASTARDS

then deleted it.
I hadn't read this post az chela. There are others who must be as torn as you by the war racketeers. The hate must come from compassion, I hope, for the ones that are gone and those still here -mourning.

May they lie on their death beds pondering their lives. Maybe nature will take its time reclaiming these evil evil people. I hope they come to full awareness by the moment they're gone.

[kdpeters]

25. I still wear my Dad's Army jacket.

It's the only thing I have.

[WinkyDink]

27. The great Stephen Crane:

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

31. Wow. Thanks.

Love it.

[Hekate]

28. Breathtaking piece. Thanks. nt

[La_Fourmi_Rouge]

29. Yes my brothers and sisters...

Song of Napalm

After the storm, after the rain stopped pounding,
we stood in the doorway watching horses
walk off lazily across the pasture's hill.
We stared through the black screen,
our vision altered by distance
so I thought I saw a mist
kicked up around their hooves when they faded
like cut-out horses
away from us.
The grass was never more blue in that light, more
scarlet; beyond the pasture
trees scraped their voices into the wind, branches
crosscrossed the sky like barbed wire
but you said they were only branches.


Okay. The storm stopped pounding.
I am trying to say this straight: for once
I was sane enough to pause and breathe
outside my wild plans and after the hard rain
I turned my back on the old curses. I believed
they swung finally away from me . . .


But still the branches are wire
and thunder is the pounding mortar,
still I close my eyes and see the girl
running from her village, napalm
stuck to her dress like jelly,
her hands reaching for the no one
who waits in waves of heat before her.


So I can keep on living,
so I can stay here beside you,
I try to imagine she runs down the road and wings
beat inside her until she rises
above the stinking jungle and her pain
eases, and your pain, and mine.


But the lie swings back again.
The lie works only as long as it takes to speak
and the girl runs only as far
as the napalm allows
until her burning tendons and crackling
muscles draw her up
into that final position
burning bodies so perfectly assume. Nothing
can change that, she is burned behind my eyes
and not your good love and not the rain-swept air
and not the jungle-green
pasture unfolding before us can deny it.


Copyright 1988 by Bruce Weigl
Reproduced with kind permission

[malaise]

30. Beautiful Tom Yossarian Joad n/t

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

34. Thanks, malaise. n/t

[bigtree]

32. cut right into my heart

bravo

[Tom Yossarian Joad]

35. Thanks, bigtree.

[guinivere]

33. Oh my. So sad and touching.

A lovely and painful poem.