211th Virtual Poetry Circle
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Welcome to the 211th Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Also, sign up for the 2013 Dive Into Poetry Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.
Today’s poem is from David Raikes, who was a WWII pilot and recently laid to rest:
Let It Be Hushed
Let it be hushed; let the deep ocean close Upon these dead. Others may laud the parts they played, Raise monuments of marble in their names. But we who flew with them and laughed with them, We other crews who, living side by side, In outward contacts slowly came to know Their inmost parts, would rather leave untouched The wound we healed, the love we buried there. These men knew moments you have never known, Nor ever will; we knew those moments too, And talked of them in whispers late at night; Such confidence was born of danger shared. We shared their targets, too; but we came back. Lightly we talked of it. We packed their kit, Divided up such common useful things As cigarettes and chocolate, rations stored Against a rainy day that never came. 'And they cast lots among them!' Someone said, 'It was a pity that he wore his watch; It was a good one, twenty pounds he said He paid for it in Egypt. Now, let's see, Who's on tonight. Ah, Taffy - you've a good one! You'd better leave it with me.' And we laughed. Cold were we? Cold at heart. You get that way. Sometimes we knew what happened; how they crashed. It was not always on the other side. One pranged upon the runway, dipped a wing, The navigator bought it, and the gunner. The other two got out, a little shaken. Bob crashed when doing an air test, just low flying - At least they think it was, they couldn't say. The plane was burning fiercely when they found it; One man thrown clear, still living, but he died On way to hospital. The loss was ours, - Because I shared an aeroplane with Bob. We had to get another D for dog. And some did not come back. We never knew Whether they lived - at first just overdue, Till minutes changed to hours, and still no news. One went to bed; but roused by later crews, Asked 'Were they back yet?' and being answered 'No', Went back to sleep. One's waking eyes sought out the empty beds, And 'Damn', you said, 'another kit to pack'; I never liked that part, you never knew What privacies your sorting might lay bare. I always tried to leave my kit arranged In decent tidiness. You never knew. But that is past. The healing river flows And washes clean the wound with passing years. We grieve not now. There was a time for tears, When Death stood by us, and we dared not weep. Let the seas close above them, and the dissolving deep.
What do you think?