The Poetry Of..
Nathan A. Baker...................................
Atlantic Voices
Headed east to Carolina
Over mountains high and wide
I'll be home sometime tomorrow
Taking in the country side
Land stretching to the ocean
Warm beaches where placidity's trod
Farm fields green with motion
Neat rows abundant in the fertile sod
Carolina by the blue Atlantic
I hear your voice in wash and roar
Bidding my tired soul to travel
Homeward toward your sandy shore
Carolina my enchanting mistress
Reciting poetry of coastal praise
Remembering Charles
Panel 11W -- Line 129
He cut his leg
On a chain link fence
When he was a boy
His mother didn't recognize him
Until she saw the scar
Just below his right hip,
Thin and faded, no longer
Its normal blood red,
Where the unfolded top
Of front yard fence's
Wire fabric raked across
The tender flesh
He was only six years old
When it happened,
And he was so very brave.
He didn't cry, even when the doctor
Sewed up the gaping wound,
Now this scar looms in memory
While her eighteen-year-old son's
Body lays flag draped as passers by
Bid him farewell.
Short was his passing
And quick the shrapnel's devastation
Piercing the very heart of Freedom...
End of Season
Toward end of season
When the last vehicle
Is loaded
And its cargo carrier
Filled to capacity
With self-validating
Items of discontent
Materialistic
Bits and pieces,
Which define
Humankind's
Social pecking order
The shoreline
Seems to sigh in relief
And surely the surf
Is laughing again
Gulls fly with added glee
Fish and sea life rejoice
Power is in the position
And secures most things
Power often uses for a season.
The hermit crab walks
Beneath the safety of another
Protected in its isolation
Secure in reclusive repose
Watching as the tides come,
The tides go,
And the sea of humanity
Slowly vanishes
Waning like an orange
Harvest moon
At the end of season
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