Two years ago today, my brother died. Today, he speaks; hear his voice.
Souvenirs
Across the sea to keep ‘em free; send the first team in.
Won’t take long; them Viet Cong ain’t never gonna win.
Home-grown boys with deadly toys, trained to fever pitch;
But dressed in black, they’re shootin’ back—this might be a bitch.
Young Marines and grim routines occupy your mind.
Give ‘em hell and got out well; don’t leave your dead behind.
Soon you’ll learn the fee you earn is never paid in gold.
The standard wage; a mental case, guaranteed to hold.
So pay the price with eyes of ice, your feelings hid away.
For souvenirs are only fears escaped from yesterday.
Tragic ends for childhood friends shatter young men’s hearts.
You learn to hide the pain inside; each day a new life starts.
Tomorrow seems the stuff of dreams, and never will be real.
Broilin’ heat and ruined feet; dead tired is all you feel.
From way down deep, they haunt my sleep, their fury numbs my brain.
Through years of haze, they bring back days of anger, sickness, pain.
The ice-cold breath of certain death shatters night-time’s peace.
My body shakes but never makes the comfort of release.
So pay the price with heart of ice; the pain has come to stay
Your souvenirs are only fears that couldn’t stay away.
© David Lee Anderson, 1985
Wishin’
I think of the cost and the dreams that I lost;
In search of a safe, happy home.
Plans that we made seem so easy mislaid
And I still find myself quite alone;
I reckon I’m destined to roam.
But wonderin’ why brings a tear to me eye
And a hell of a pain to my heart.
You’re not there beside me to help me and guide me;
I still can’t believe we’re apart.
I wish we were back at the start.
I remember the grins and the losses and wins,
But the hurt comes most often to mind.
Our “Main Event” fights and the candle-lit nights,
And the “you” that you left me to find;
You thought you were just bein’ kind.
If I had my choice, then hearin’ your voice;
Would happen more often, I swear.
And I’d watch your face to see if a trace
Of all that old love was still there;
The love we forgot how to share.
But so far away, there ain’t too much to say,
Except that I’m glad you are well.
I guess it’s forbidden to think what I’ve hidden
‘Cause losin’ you twice would be hell;
But it might be too early to tell.
Another year’s past and it happened so fast,
There’s so many things that I missed.
But what I miss most ‘bout that smoggy West Coast,
The thing on the top of my list,
Is wishin’ that we had just kissed.
© David Lee Anderson, 1985
Shadows of My Soul
The silent snow is softly filling one more empty night,
Hiding scars of wounded days with touches feather-light.
The warming wash of firelight holds back the winter cold
As shadows dance to ghostly rhythms bathed in molten gold.
The frost is etching fantasies across the window’s face,
Bringing back old memories of candlelight and lace.
Looking through the flowing night and back through years of haze,
I hear the echoed whispers of my wasted yesterdays.
Seger sings “Against the Wind” and fills my heart with grief,
Reminding me of things undone and naming Time the thief.
He conjures lonely visions of the dreams the future stole
And makes me realize the “Wind” is deep within my soul.
© David Lee Anderson, 1986
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To him: "Simper Fi!"
The frost is etching fantasies across the window’s face,
Bringing back old memories of candlelight and lace.
Looking through the flowing night and back through years of haze,
I hear the echoed whispers of my wasted yesterdays.
those words touch me particularly.
Thank you for sharing these.
I'm so sorry he is gone.
♥R
I hear your voice ... filled with an ache for that which has been lost ... innocence; youth; the lives of young men; health; dreams; hope; and, love.
David, I can almost feel your words, your emotions ... these poems that emanate so deep from within your heart and soul. They are very powerful yet so gentle. They have touched my heart and soul. And indeed, they remind me of my own brother whose name is David too. He also wrote poetry. A sensitive, gentle and beautiful man. Which is how I see you through these words.
Thank you for these words, David. I will sit with them ... and you ... again.
Rest in peace, David.
"He conjures lonely visions of the dreams the future stole:
What a wonderful poet. Such a great loss.
Where you are now, I certainly hope you found it.
Somehow, I think you did.
Your words touched my heart this night, brother.
J D
" So pay the price with heart of ice; the pain has come to stay
Your souvenirs are only fears that couldn’t stay away."
He had talent and his words express a sadness from innocence lost, I imagine. I heard his voice and felt his emotions.
Candace: Not just 'Nam, I think, but the other blows he suffered too. I heard it as a song as well, though more hard rock-y--or country and western.
Tor: Semper Fi, indeed. It's funny how he could be bitter about the Marines, but he was still a Marine.
LL: Thank you, I think he did--to an extent. I think poems from the next two decades would have been somewhat different.
Monkey: "The frost is etching fantasies" got me too.
ChiGuy: "a novel compressed into a poem"--indeed.
waking: Thank you for reading these, lady: you helped me when he went.
Fusun: Thank you for hearing.
Kate: Sweet. Very sweet.
trilogy: Another grabber line, eh?
JD: Thank you for being touched.
Spuds: Yeah: I thought that variation on the "chorus" was a crafty, painful touch.
Karin: Thank you for hearing. I think the rhyming pattern of "Wishin'" is part of what makes it feel like a song.