Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Monday, August 8, 2011


During WWII, I would lie in the grass far back on the farm 
and watch the hundreds of B-17s practice their 
take-offs and landings from the nearby Air Force Base
They waved at me from the sky, and made me feel


Breaking into day's placidness

ghost riders, thundering herds
overhead huge birds
bright sun suddenly less

in dark is world thrust
ten, twenty, thirty, must
be hundreds, even more
from mountain to shore

in formation flight.
above, the light
none below
prep for fight

quickly my son
grab stick
press button
learn how it's done

who is that little brat
lying in the field
almost concealed
pretending in combat?

tomorrow we be back
tomorrow we attack...”
oh! happy and sad
fantasies, this lad

lying in field green
thinking so unseen...
pilots, gunners, waving at me
tomorrow shall cross the sea

some will live, some die
some burn, some return.
in grass, 
watching all, 
am i



  1. I have no doubt you are a great watcher.

  2. i wonder if we all played war...i know we did...had lots of trees around and we used to build the most amazing forts...very nice steve you brought back tons of memories for me...

  3. So sad that watching of the grass of the dead.
    Great poem, Steve.

  4. So well said. I love the memories here!

  5. Did you at that time, put yourself into their minds? Or are those thoughts from now looking back as an adult? You took us back to laying in the grass watching the planes right alongside you.

  6. MAGPIE:
    I “became” those men in the sky” I “went with them” to Europe, some to the Pacific theater...I “lived with them, died with them”...

    After all, is that not what dreamers do?--grin!

    WAIT. WHAT?:
    Cat, you are WAYYYY too young to have these memories. May you are 'seeing' the Iraqi War?--grin!
    For you also...PEACE!

    Thank you! From a great poet, I am sometimes inspired...that is, YOU!

    Vivid memories are looked upon fondly by old Peeps. They are relived as if today! If only world leadership would have these memories of many thousands of years of history—we would all know PEACE! Today...

    YOU are funny! “On target!” HAHAHA! Thanks!

    Just because you have seen me “watching”...do not jump to conclusions—grin! I like that word, what is it??? Oh yeah: OBSERVING!
    PEACE with you, my friend!

  7. We used to play war game, but nobody like a real war.

    Anyway, future war field will be in the cyberspace.

  8. .. Yes, I remember ... the many aircraft about my village ... I'm scared ...
    American soldiers come into our house and say: The war is over!...
    a dream? no, really ...I will never forget..
    and I, the little girl back then, I'm glad and happy ...

    Steve, your poem brings thoughts of the past ... thank you!

    War games...well, chess is really a “war game”...I guess war is here to stay, no matter what. Shame.

    Oh my! Dear girl, you DO have memories, od sad and glad, embedded in your brain. Thank you SO MUCH for leaving this comment. It is why anyone writes, sometimes to bring memories, or an experience shared.
    LOVE and PEACE, Dear Cosima

  10. steve, i don't know why but this so moved me, i am fighting back tears from an unknown place...perhaps it is the photo of the child, he is the age of my grandson, on his way to visit....i miss him so, they grow so fast. i would hope he never watches bombers and their masters flying overhead in preparation for war but every time they fly over his home on the way to the airbase nearby, he runs to the backyard to have a glimpse and a wave....does nothing ever change?

  11. I don't know why but i got a lump in my throat reading it :)That is a very cute picture of you .

  12. Excuse my ignorance but who is
    Sgt Patrick S Rust ...on enlarging the picture i read this name there.

  13. Googled it and found the sad story .Also saw facebook page on it.Sorry for spamming your comment box.

  14. LINDA:
    What movd me...was a comment made (above) by COSIMA. I could see her—little girl—frightened when the bombers flew over her village. Soon after , American soldiers walked into her house, saying , “The war is over.” Instant happiness! Anf tears in my eyes. Happy tears, for that memory shared.

    That photo is not of me, but looks SO similar—in every way—that I could have been fooled also. Please don't be sorry for 'spamming'...you are simply speaking your heart. I appreciate that you come here to read—and comment. Thank you, Kav!

  15. I once developed a mini-writing block for first year students who'd been groaning about the creative process. It was a theme I labelled 'Everyone has a story' where I had reluctant writers label personal CDs, and in each fictional track they wrote a piece about themselves and differing members of their family. Some really got into this project by illustrating with personal photos, clips of stories and remembered dialogue. It was a mini success! But I do believe that everyone has a story; and, when told, they're great fun to both the teller and listener. I wish you much success with yours and hope you post it for us to read too.