In the marshy wald von Teutoburg
Varus took his men
To quell a slight rebellion
Well, so it seemed to them.

—————

Three legions Varus took with him
Anno domini nine.
The woodland dense, so swampy
That they had to march in line.

—————

And with him rode Arminius
Chief of the Cherusci.
Equestrian, citizen with respect,
A knight of Rome was he.

—————

This Arminius whom Rome trusted,
He’d served her well for many years,
Went forth to lay an ambush
That left Caesar shedding tears.

—————

Hampered by the close terrain.
Drenched through and through by pouring rain.
The legionnaires, unknowing snared
By vengeful Gauls who, long prepared,

—————

Three legions with their eagles high.
Pushing through to make their way,
As rain pours down from lowering sky
And in the gloom those legions die.

Once was a pussycat and an owl
Who went to sea in a boat.
But wind and wave and weather so foul,
And a boat without oars that left cat and owl
Without fur or feather, flannel or towel,
And then Nighttime swooped with an awful howl
And the boat refused to float.

Time Expired and thus Unfettered

Like dusty files unopened on their shelves - serene and calm;
Behind locked doors these memories of war lived in my mind.
Distant images, long archived, evolved in Vietnam
But buried ‘neath the present of a very different kind.

But now those dusty files have tumbled to the ground.
Upended by the vigour of this fine new freedom I have found.
Without the shackles of that other life I find
The memories fresh and sometimes pleasant to my mind.

And so I take them up and dust them off these files long hidden.
Peruse each ancient, tattered memory page by page.
And let their content to my mind project unbidden
The flickering image of a long lost distant, youthful age.

And with these verses I have made for you, shaped by my pen, a light.
That you too might view the shadowed contents of my new found files.
Described between the lines of each is what it was to fight
A war, the grim visage of which was seldom wreathed with smiles.

But I conjure you look closely at these careful, recent woven lines of mine.
This tapestry conceals ideas that oft’ belie the written word.
Look underneath to seek the reason why my thoughts sometimes repine
Against a patterned camouflage which sometimes makes them seem absurd

Chimerical these hidden images that tumble on the edge of time?
Yes, but if you use the mirror of your own reality to construe,
To grasp the presence of that conflict these days almost always called a crime
Then might you judge these portions that I gladly offer you.