Hello Folks,
In honor of Memorial Day I'm posting Honor And Glory. I wrote this back in 1974, a year after I finished my military service. Being an amateur military historian and appreciating the wonderful fantasies and myths of books like The Lord of the Rings, I took a stab at writing a poem depicting combat. It only took me about forty-five minutes to finish the first draft, but, it took many more years to tune it up with rewrites. I don't use the common terminology for units and ranks, but delve into fantasy to find generic terms. The main thing isn't the names but the experience of combat. After spending most of my teen age years, and after, reading histories of the American Civil War, I wanted to express something like that feel to this poem. And maybe find a universality that deals with an historical experience so common so as to transcend any particular place and time. Honor And Glory Projectiles from large enemy thunder tubes Fly overhead seeking some damage to do Our War Group enters the camp left to us With once bright uniforms covered with dust The mounts are nervous, though protected by a rise Shielded from the fire, as our columns arrive Leadmen of Troups hear from Headmen of Bands “There’s no falling out, the column here stands.” Tired men fall from our march in the sun Comrades support them, there’s no place to run Leadmen tell Pack Foremen, “Inspect Warlings through.” File Overlings follow to ensure hearts stay true Warm water is taken from bottles half full While we all listen to the thunder tube duel The longer the waiting, the tenser the nerves Feeling, on today’s action, the conflict may turn Our Chiefman is here, to help form our line Preparing the Bandline, he say’s we’ll do fine We’re all made ready, with skirmishers ahead The thought in our minds, who’ll live or be dead? The Theyn of the War Group arrives with his staff We’re put to attention to hear what he say’s “Friends, Patriots, be proud on this morning, Our freedom now lies in your honor and glory.” “We fight to protect our families and homes. This is our duty, the only way shown. Our enemies enslave us, won’t let us be. Fight for your freedom and destiny.” Checking our arms, fire rods are readied With long blades attached to make them more deadly Our lines are dressed as the thunder tubes stop Then we hear, along the rise, the words, “Over the top.” Our line surges forward, scrambling over the rise Each of us praying to somehow just stay alive How many more races across torn up ground How many more lifetimes to waste, as this now Large thunder tubes take their toll once again Churning up ground, and brave frightened men Struggling along, covered with dirt and sand Praying not to step where projectiles might land My mind stops, suspended, as the inferno is seen Trapped in this unreal, nightmare of a dream What have we done? What was our crime? Forced to pray for survival one more last time Our foot band’s Headman, with banner unfurled Like a man possessed in a alien world Exhorting, cajoling, driving us all along “To stop is dishonor, move forward, be strong.” My mind clouds, past fights merge into one All I know to live, is keep moving, and run Looking back I see we’re far less than before As projectile bursts engulf us once more Littered around are broken mounts and men I know I could never do this again We near the trenches where our enemies lie Their Headmen yelling, while their wounded cry Our thinned line closes the space in-between The enemies’ eyes are scared and mean Their fire rod flashes quicken our pace All locked together in this deadly long race The banner held in our Headman’s strong hands He plants in the trench, where others soon land Our foot band enters, fighting eye to eye The foe’s soon evicted, while many there die The Headman screams, to gather a pursuit We’re all brought together to see the fight through One frightened man panics, crumbling to his knees The rest start off, as the enemy flees Then, a projectile burst knocks me to the ground My mind’s filled with haze, motionless, but sound Trapped in my body, as others pass by I’m aware of life, and afraid to die I see, in my haze, the Headman at bay Prodding the straggler to get on his way Yelling, exhorting, the same old story “Defend your country, for honor, and glory.” With thunder tube bursts again overhead I feel, before long, that I’ll soon be dead The scene with the Headman’s charge continues Till a burst from a tube makes dust of their sinew The smoke soon clears, only crumpled bodies remain Uniforms are shredded, the torn banner hangs Battle sounds relent, to stillness and calm All the dust settles, and the conflict is gone Then after a time the War Theyn appears Seeing the banner brings him close to tears Telling an aide of the Headman’s brave run “Oh, to what cost such bravery is done.” He gets two stretcher bearers to stop To put the Headman’s remains there on top Placing the banner, over the body, once brave They carry it back to a fine hero’s grave Unknown to them, though well I could see The bodies having fallen so close to me Taken was the straggler, in mistaken hurry To fill in for the hero’s honor and glory Jack T. Leyton 1974 Years ago, I happened to read this poem to the father of a friend of mine who was in the U.S. 29th Infantry Division that landed on Omaha Beach, Normandy on D-Day, 1944. He just kind of gave a look like a thousand yard stare and softly said, "Yeah, that's about it." Enough said. God bless and keep all our heroes, past, present and future. Equivalents War Group = Division = 10,000 (+/-) Bandline = Brigade = 3-5,000 Band = Battalion = 500-1,000 Troup = Company = 100-200 Pack = Platoon = 30-45 File = Squad = 8-15 Warling = Soldier from anywhere at anytime Enough said. God bless all our heroes, past, present and future. Cheers, Jack 🖖✌️
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Jax Blog #13
This next poem I wrote back in 2007. Around that time I was putting my book of poetry together at a coffee shop near where I lived, while I was in between employment. I was spending long days compiling what I had and I found myself sometimes finishing scraps of partial poems from sometimes years before. "Jill" was one of those partial poems. Around that time I had met a girl who worked at the coffee house named Jill and it got my imagination moving enough to finish this poem. I mean, I'm Jack, shouldn't there be a Jill... and a hill? As for the date 12/29/1972 at 06:00 am, PST. At the time I wrote the poem I was heavily into Astrology, and so with hard study and geometric logic and astro plotting of all the planets, and... and with a lot of help from an online Astrology site, I came to the conclusion that a person born on that day, at that time was my perfect match. A young 48 year old, now. Oh well. As luck would have it, I've never been able to meet anyone with those dates and times. I'm still waiting.... Jill Someday I'll find my Jill Every Jack should have one With all the standard thrills Knows how to love and have fun Is there a proper way? Not some run of the mill If classifieds would say Right here, an awesome Jill Who am I to complain? Sure, some great catch I am She might just think the same Yep... better off with a Sam An astrologer told me, "Son, I've got the perfect girl. Born, West Coast, December 29, 1972 ... at 06:00 am." I said, "Are you for real?" I have such love to share With passions full... and still She's got to be somewhere? That loving elusive Jill Jack T. Leyton 2007 Yep... I'm still waiting.... I don't think I'll be holding my breath. Stay Safe and Well Cheers 🖖 ✌️ Hello Folks,
This poem is one of my few attempts at dry humor. I was attempting to give it a slight Monty Python style. I hope I succeeded, but that judgement is up to you. JUDGEMENT DAY WILL BE FRIDAY This establishment will be open half day only. All employees wishing time off are asked to submit in writing any requests no later than two days prior. If possible an alternate to cover your position should be designated. Pay will be straight time with the usual O/T bonus. Of the three per cent cost of living differential. All time off will be taken from vacation time, if available. Otherwise, it will be counted as a non-pay day. Paychecks, usually available at the end of shift on Friday, due to a glitch in the computer system, will be mailed out instead. We are confident in the assurances of the Post Office, that service will continue in its normal efficient manner Since it is expected to be a light volume day, the dress code will be relaxed. All wishing to bring in a pot-luck lunch are heartily encouraged. . IN CASE OF EMERGENCIES Questions and suggestions may be left on the executive voice mail. Your input is important to us. A response may be made in an appropriate and timely fashion. If there is need for personal consultation, however Management will Not be available. Good Luck and Best Wishes. Thank You for your continued support. Jack T. Leyton 2000 Lately, we seem to be having a few of these ourselves. I hope we continue to get thru them in a successful manner. Good Luck and Best Wishes Thank you for your continued support. Jack 🖖 ✌️ Hello Folks,
And Now He's Gone was written a short time after the death of my father. He died on Valentines Day on the weekend of my son's first birthday. It was a time of mixed emotion for my whole family. My Dad had been in the hospital for a week beforehand, in and out of a coma. All our relatives visited him during that time knowing it was "Good-bye." Still full of emotion, I wrote this poem. And Now He's Gone I feel the shadows in this house There was once a presence here It is, and may remain a permanent scent For over thirty years my father lived here And now he's gone His clothes in the dresser folded just so My Mother placed neatly, in loving expectation I recall occasions, weekends, and visitations Photos on the wall with his grand style And now he's gone Not all the crying, praying, and shouting Cursing, wailing, or bawling can change a thing The scent is there from years of wear His spirit lies in the memories of our lives And now he's gone In the little hours, when the creaking walls are heard And the half dreaming beckons to might have beens The wishing dies away in tears of parting Loves heavy heart remembers sorrows and joy And now he's gone Jack T. Leyton 1987 The house was where my brothers and I were raised and was full of the spirits of our family. It was sold after our Mother's passing, but I still drive by sometimes. As Thomas Wolfe said, "You can't go home again." As in most families, the memories stay rich and compelling. And now they're gone. Cheers, Jack 🖖✌️ Hello Folks,
The poem Air Seas was written at a positive time in my life when I had the feeling that all was well for a positive future and to just go ahead and challenge it. Of course the future never stays that way for long. But it's always important to ride that crest as long as we can and remember what we're capable of and what we can handle. Air Seas Sails set for the clouds And places filled with stars Flying high on the winds That bring wonders from afar Air seas my eyes see Through the currents of the sky Time is won to be done And I'm glad that I'm alive All's bright for the moment On my new craft soaring high Till time brings the morrow And the moment I shall die Soaring high through the clouds As my new life is taken in hand From it's dark and dismal depths To the place I'll make my stand Free flight in cool air As I try my sails and wings Flight now I've mastered I have learned so many things Far from my beginnings Remembered distant past My sails are unfurled Strong tempered, made to last Off then to adventures I've not dreamed since long before Time now to live them To fill each moment more and more Jack T. Leyton 1979 May all our adventures be positive and caring. And may these trying times now just serve to temper our wings and sails for a brighter future. Cheers, Jack 🖖✌️ |
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June 2021
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