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lawrence-hallPoems
Something About Life                                       “Live.  Just live.”                                -Yuri in Doctor Zhivago The plane lifted, and the cheering was wild And then pretty quickly the pilot said “We are now clear of Vietnamese Territorial waters.”  There was joy, Even wilder cheering for most, and quiet Joy for a few.  For me, Karamazov To hand, peace, and infinite gratitude. “I’m alive,” I said to myself and to God, “Alive.  I will live, after all.”  To read, to write, Simply to live.  Not for revolution, Whose smoke poisons the air, not for the war, Not to withdraw into that crippling self-pity Which is the most evil lotus of all, But to live.  To read, to write.                                             But death comes, Then up the Vam Co Tay, or now in bed, Or bleeding in a frozen February ditch; Death comes, scorning our frail, feeble, failing flesh, But silent then at the edge of the grave, For all graves will be empty, not in the end, But in the very beginning of all.
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Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC
for Remembrance Day / Veterans' Day
Something About Life                                       “Live.  Just live.”                                -Yuri in Doctor Zhivago The plane lifted, and the cheering was wild And then pretty quickly the pilot said “We are now clear of Vietnamese Territorial waters.”  There was joy, Even wilder cheering for most, and quiet Joy for a few.  For me, Karamazov To hand, peace, and infinite gratitude. “I’m alive,” I said to myself and to God, “Alive.  I will live, after all.”  To read, to write, Simply to live.  Not for revolution, Whose smoke poisons the air, not for the war, Not to withdraw into that crippling self-pity Which is the most evil lotus of all, But to live.  To read, to write.                                             But death comes, Then up the Vam Co Tay, or now in bed, Or bleeding in a frozen February ditch; Death comes, scorning our frail, feeble, failing flesh, But silent then at the edge of the grave, For all graves will be empty, not in the end, But in the very beginning of all.
A poem is itself
#remembranceday#veteransday
Written by
lawrence-hall
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC
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