Verse by Caleb Mannan

If you like Robert Service, Longfellow, Tolkien, Milton, Robinson Jeffers, Whitman, Poe, The Bible, Tennyson, Ray Bradbury, life, death, Untermeyer, Pound, Donne, joy, sorrow, Siegfried Sassoon, Wilfred Owen, Robert Graves, children, beauty, Dante, Tom Waits, then set yourself down beside this fire.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

XLIV. Lights

We lit lights for the ones we’d lost,
Ne’er knowing they sat upon peaceful plane
Under purple gloam
And watched our lights rise into the sky
As the stars hung in the heavens.

Then they didst turn with smiles
Back to their gentle fires upon peaceful planes
And whisper:
“Soon they will come home,
Soon we shall see them again.”

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Poetry Contest

Brothers and Sisters- our friend Angela over at My Poetry Place is hosting a poetry contest. To enter, follow this link: http:My Poetry Place Contest

Angela is a fair judge, and has great taste, we would know, because we won first prize last time. So get on over there!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Veterans Day

My dad did 2 tours in Vietnam as a Navy medical Corpsman attached to the Marines. I'd like to say happy Veterans Day to my dad, and post this poem my brother Jake wrote for our dad this Vets Day:

My Victory's To Sing

By Jacob Isaac Mannan

My father is a Veteran of Vietnam,
1 cog in a 20-years machine,
The steel of the Greatest War’s assembly
Shipped home in the Cold War’s sling,
My father was his victory’s to sing.

My father is a thinning line to the Viet Cong,
1 mL in a 20-years vaccine,
A mask around the U.S. Navy corpsman
Tying back to the head trauma’s wing,
My father was their victory’s to sing.

My father is the fishing hole to the Heartland,
1 drop from a 60-years canteen
A lost boy to the Greatest Generation
Finding peace in the Oregon Oak’s swing,
My father is our victory’s to sing.

My father is a Veteran of Vietnam,
1 Doc to the 20-years Marine
A young face on the Guerilla War’s memory
Retiring home in the arthritic hands’ wring,
My father is his victory’s to sing...

My father is a flower in the Field Hospital,
1 mind in a 20-years quarantine,
A peaceful thought in the color of the trauma
Whiting out to the chapel bells’ ring,
My father is my victory’s to sing.

-Dedicated to Kent Foster Mannan, U.S. Navy Corpsman

Jake's Blog: Song of Hope and Hell