VERNON WARING : The Man Who Hated Summer
DAVID NOVAK : Four Sonnets on War
MICHAEL ESTABROOK : Good to be Alive
POETRYREPAIRS v12.09:104
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The Man Who Hated Summer Four Sonnets on War Good to be Alive  
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VERNON WARING
The Man Who Hated Summer
The man who hated summer smoothes on sweet scented lotions;  his body glistens like a waxed table. Jobless and listless, he soaks in lemon yellow afternoons and smiles at the irony; the season he's never sought is the only one he has. Now he never reads a paper or greets a neighbor or mows the lawn. Instead he simmers on a chaise lounge in a nest of mosquitoes and heat, his flesh taut like sutures, his eyes drawn shut against the sun. Darkening under a paper white sky, he holds his breath while the phone rings and rings and rings.
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The Man Who Hated Summer Four Sonnets on War Good to be Alive  
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DAVID NOVAK
Four Sonnets on War
1 "And I did love a soldier once, he was Taken from me, and tears were in his eyes At his induction; so it came to pass, Though everybody said it was not wise. To love a soldier--and he passed from me, In service of some principles renowned; We wrote, I wrote, and though we pledged to be Faithful our love in time it was disowned. Because I saw him turn into a man, And turning, pass from me, a lithesome lass, A boy when he went in, in that brief span Become a man, who from me he did pass. I learned that love has seldom time to tarry, Nor ever does outlast the military." 2 "She swore to wait for me on my return, And I believed her vow - I was a man, And while I was away my thoughts would burn Through to her photograph. I got a tan. My skin became so dark, my head so big - Mother and sister took me to the train, And told me not to cry - but others did - And I could see my Mommašs face in pain. And from the train they transferred us to God Knows where or cares, but I came through it though - It strengthened me in mind and in my bod, And taught me what a boy did never know. She married with my friend; but we were sent, To where I saw--well, anyhow, we went." 3 "I served my country fifty years ago At Normandy, and many of us died, But we were able to turn back the foe And drive him out of Europe, vilified; The Nazi threat, though Išve heard said today That what we did was not worth fighting for, Or dying for - so to these sayers say, Just wait until the threat is at your door. My son was killed in battle after me, Hamburger Hill, that ground him up like meat, His name is on the wall, for all to see, With all the other names that war did eat. I lost great many buddies, and a son, Who heard the rapid riflešs orison." 4 "My son was killed in battle, and I say No foe however great, no awful threat Is worth the price a mother has to pay, To see a son cut down, her baby yet. The son I nurtured, brought forth from the womb, Because some evil persons in a land So far from here, have laid him in a tomb, Forever dead, and I donšt understand. They tell me that he die to serve his country, And gave his life, that others may breathe free, But this, and half a dozen reasons sundry Canšt justify their taking him from me. Mothers, give birth to daughters, not to sons, Nor let them feed the slaughters of the guns."
POETRYREPAIRS 12.09: 104
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The Man Who Hated Summer Four Sonnets on War Good to be Alive  
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MICHAEL ESTABROOK
Good to be Alive
Some days it's just good to be alive, like today, November 20, in New England, 62 degrees outside, a warm breeze breezing, sweet as pumpkins. I rake leaves and clean them out of the gutters, check the oil in the cars, put ice scrapers in each one, in expectation of another brutal winter. I gather up some more branches that came down in the recent Nor'easter, drag them to the burn pile out back. And we do a little shopping, the supermarket and hardware store, I buy a new plant for my library. Finally we stop off for a lovely Chinese lunch: General Gau's Chicken and Shrimp with Bean sprouts. But what I'm most grateful about today is Mom hasn't called yet to let me know that Aunt Alice has died.
POETRYREPAIRS 12.09: 104
VERNON WARING : The Man Who Hated Summer
DAVID NOVAK : Four Sonnets on War
MICHAEL ESTABROOK : Good to be Alive
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