Frank DeRose Dec 7

"December 7th, 1941--a date which will live in infamy"

So began Roosevelt's address,
As the eyes of a nation
Watched the skies,
Wept,
And fought.

Less than an hour after Roosevelt's speech,
Congress declared war on Japan,
And entered into World War II.

And so our boys left,
Fighting the good fight

And so Rosie flexed,
And patriotism soared,
And planes rained down barrages of gunfire.

I was always taught today's date.
December 7th, 1941.

My grandfather fought in World War II,
And in my house,
Today's date lived--
And continues to live--
In infamy.

You can imagine my surprise when,
Upon walking into the public high school where I work,
The flag prostrate,
Halfway between sky and earth,
Students did not know the date.

I asked the classes,
60 or so students, in sum,
"Who can tell me why the flag is at half-mast today?"

They looked at me in confusion,
"Half-mast?"
"What's the date?"
Maybe 6 or 7 raised their hand.

One in ten students knew,
And while I was disheartened,
I was not altogether surprised.

So I posed the question to my coworkers,
"I've been conducting an experiment today,
Asking students if they knew why the flag was at half-mast"

Of the 15 coworkers with whom I spoke,
5 could tell me why.
10 could not.

"Why is it at half-mast? I don't even know..."

"Let me see, what's happened in current events recently?"

"Oh? It's Pearl Harbor? I didn't even know we put the flag at half-mast for that."

How quickly we forget.

The second largest attack on American soil in our history,
The greatest catalyst for our entry into the greatest war in modern history,
And we don't take notice of the date?

For shame.

What will our sons, daughters, grandsons and granddaughters know?

Will they recall 9/11?
Will they remember it?

Will they relive it each year,
The way we so painstakingly do?

Will images of planes and falling men flee through their minds?

Or will they forget?

"Oh? 9/11, is that today? I didn't even realize."

Sounds preposterous, doesn't it?

And yet, our grandparents couldn't conceive of a time when we wouldn't remember Pearl Harbor.

"A date which will live in infamy."

Or will it?

Be advised—
History has its eyes on you.

Mary K Oct 7

Its midnight.
The water laps against the docks
Moonlight shines in ripples across the calm harbor
Laughter and music drown out the song of the night.
Everything is right in the world.
A camera flash:
Time stops moving
Everyone is frozen in place and if the world were to end at this very moment
And this is the last scene before the credits roll
It wouldn't be such a bad ending
To an imperfect story.
But the flash lasts less than a blink
And time continues to move
Ticking in time with the cicadas in the trees.
Its not summer
But it could be
There's a warmth in the air
And a feeling of utter weightlessness
And both radiate from the small crowd
Of familiar people
Laughing alone in a dark, sleeping world
illuminated only by the moon and the stars
And the flickering dim streetlights
That line the night.
Nothing is ever perfect
But this scene
Of this night
In the park by the water
Feels distinctly like magic.
And we are alight.

Feels good to be home

I came back to the poem with more ideas,
Trying to wake up the unsuspecting reader
To walk with them though my stories
I didn’t want them to think I was rapping
nor was I singing the blues

Poetry is no longer frightening
Like a sudden force of lightening;
Awakening your senses to the art
From the start: to the fuzzy end

I dared you not to walked away from this piece
However, I beg of you to read this piece with ease
Today, I wish that the little birds on my window
Will sing to me, but instead the cold morning breeze
kept them away:
An exciting dimension of their songs makes my day
Comes alive:

In my lucid dream last night, I saw beach goers
Watching the tides go in and out:
way down the harbor road
Their soak their feet in a stream
of warm running water

So I took a seat and I joined the relaxing crowd
Dreams are scarier, more than poetry.

Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out
of the heart of darkness comes the light. ~Jean Giraudoux


I came back to this poem with a sense of knowing, that a

Poet can survive everything but a misprint Oscar -Wilder

Donielle Apr 7

I thought the storm had ceased,
passed by me without damage.
I thought we withstood the test,
anchored
in the harbor.
But no,
my ship is rocking,
swaying,
unsteady in the water.
Our smooth ride
has come to an abrupt halt -
each untruth you spew,
throws another wave in our course.
Every break
at the peak of each wave
heaves
the water over my sides,
filling me,
weighing me down,
and I don't know how long I can swim.

Andrew Kelly Mar 20

With my head held high,
Feeling light.
I jaunt down the avenue.

The heels of my feet unsteady,
“This sailor still has his sea legs!”
I gargle as my body stumbles,
Tumbles,
Face bloodied on asphalt and rubble.

Even though my mug is mangled,
My bottle is intact.
And that is what truly matters.

The glass cannot break;
Shred my being to tatters!
Before I part from my everlasting bond
Of neck in hand.

One last swig!
Before I head out to sea.
I may drown…
But there’s no drink in the deep.

elle Mar 6

Where did all the children go?
The wails of parents resonate
Homes stripped of joy and cheer
What do you mean, Christmas spirit?

The wails of parents resonate
But there's nothing they can do
What do you mean, Christmas spirit?
Here's a red poppy, please feel better

There's nothing they can do
but try their hardest not to cry
Here's a red poppy, please feel better
but nothing will ever be the same

While they tried their hardest not to cry,
the cold marble wall filled with the names of their children
reminded them that nothing would ever be the same
And all they could think of was, where did all the children go?

visited pearl harbor, may have cried a little (or a lot)
AK Feb 26

blessed am i not
with a free-roaming mind
to the darkest secrets of life
haunted by their existence
weighed down by chains
chains of false hope
chains of the unreal

i open my mouth
reveal myself
their faces not accepting
my chains lifted from me
angels carry me away to
my safe place
my taboo harbor

the faith which binds them
is all but a mere smither
in the world of millions
in this taboo harbor

Whitney Drew Oct 2016

I took an evening stroll with you,
At the harbor we shared a kiss or two,
We watched the sun paint the sky,
I noticed the way the light caught your eye.

I love to sit and gaze at blurs
And think in that moment of what we were
Your fingers had the perfect space
I laid my eyes upon your face

I loved be there by your side
Fending off the butterflies
I held the comfort of our breaths
And you bore your soul, let me feel the depths

But after the harbor, I know we died
I felt like the whole thing was a lie
And God you made me feel alive
But the highs took a swan dive

I took you to my favorite spot
And where we kissed is where I plot
The grave for my heart, and I wonder
why you tore my heart asunder

Andrei Marin Aug 2016

Boats and ships are sailing in and out, seafarers and merchants; bustling about, the busy port, like a work of art, filled with last kisses, before long months apart.

A place of noises, smells, emotion, comotion...
A place of lies, farewells and goodbyes...

The sea is calling so many away, starting adventures one beautiful day, watching the winds and waves at play.

The port is a sad and happy place, for him: an adventure ready to start,
for her: a sad day, before a long time apart.

This is how I would imagine a harbor/port...
I know it's not the case today, but it's still fun to imagine it like in the old days...
Whitney Drew Jun 2016

I would love to take an evening stroll with you,
Stopping by the harbor to share a kiss or two,
Watch the sun paint rosy streaks up in the sky,
Noticing the way that light catches in your eye.

I would love to sit on the stone and gaze up at the stars
And think in that moment of who and what we are
Though I know, for mine, your fingers have the perfect space
My longing is to lay my eyes upon your face

I would love to just be there by your side
Fending off the butterflies that in my stomach reside
Holding on to the comfort of our sychonized breaths
And you bearing your soul, letting me feel the depths

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