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My dearest Sammy,
The Mix Master came
Easter, Sunday
And we have not had time
To more than read
The literature
Put it together
And gloat
Oh
So beautiful
Is the Mix Master
So beautiful
We are very happy
To have it here
Bless you Sammy

Madame Roux said
oui
Il est si gentil
Et en effet
He is dear little
Sammy
Easter morning
What a spring
Lovely
as I have never seen anything
Lovely
Alice is all
Smiles
and murmurs in her dreams
‘Mix Master’

X
Gertrude
Nigdaw Aug 19
we went out to the desert
my young daughter and I
looking for the pilots
crash site shot down in a dogfight
over this strange landscape

we found the memorial
to their sadly shortened lives
and my daughter who had
collected shells from the beach
to take home
placed them as offerings

tears welled in my eyes
and I thanked them for their
sacrifice and this precious
moment in my life
Dungeness is the UK's only desert. Thank you Boguslaw Mierzwa and  Mieczyskaw Waskiewicz.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
Red letter days
and friendly fire.
Will I ever go home?
Your voice over
the airwaves soothes.
But the things you say
cut like teeth,
sharp and vile.
You visit the hospitals,
shake down the morgues.
The batting of your eyelashes,
a ruse to your construction:
You're a steam shovel, girl.
Digging for Nazis
at the center of the Earth.
Mildred Elizabeth Gillars, nicknamed "Axis Sally" along with Rita Zucca, was an American broadcaster employed by **** Germany to disseminate propaganda during World War II. Following her capture in post-war Berlin, she became the first woman to be convicted of treason against the United States.
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
Dreams tell
Another about
A persons past
For example my father
Was according to a dream
Was a mad scientist
Who cheated on his wife with his subjects
How the horrors the dreams can reavel
About other people
Or yourself
Let me introduce myself
I'm Robert K. Wesson,
Sgt. Retired
I like to say the K was for killer,
But, in fact it was for Knowlton
I have no idea why,
Nobody in our family named that, as far as I know.
Anyway, that's out of the way.
35 years served. Can't give away anymore information than that, it's a national secret. I can say, I can cook a mean chipped beef for 1100 men though.

I served in WWII, lost a lot of friends. I'm 97 years young now, as they like to say. I don't, I gave up counting years ago when I lost my wife, but, folks round here like to put on a show every year I get closer to 100. They wheel a cake into me, have me blow out the candles and then I head down stairs to the commissary for a beer. A light beer mind you, but, still a beer. Anything harder messes with my meds.
Personally, I think they give me the beer to shut me up, puts me to sleep in no time. I'm on pills for blood pressure, diabetes, headaches, one to make me ***, one to make me ****. Won't get into those now, rather unsavory things to chat about.

As I said, I served in the big one, came back relatively unscathed. No physical issues that I know of, but, mentally, I saw things no one should. Things that stay with you for ever. I wasn't front line per se, but, I can't tell you what I did, it's a national secret. I can say though, 100 loaves of bread, I can do that....no trouble at all.
Around here, I'm Grampa Bob, or Gramps, depending on who is working. Not many from my generation here now. Oh, here? I'm at a military home outside of Kingston. Some days, it's great, others, I wished I was gone years back. I wish I was gone in the war sometimes, but, then I would never have met my wife and had the fantastic life I did have. No kids, but, we made do.
Met her once I came home. But, that's another story. Wished I'd gone first though, tough watching her pass, cowardly to say, but, it was rough. I came in here after that. Was having trouble sleeping, concentrating, and generally couldn't take care of myself.
Seems strange a man who could do what I could, I can't tell you though, National Secret and all.  But I could field strip my weapon in the dark in a windstorm, and make stew for 1100 men no sweat.
Well, I came here, before I burned out the house. The local fire department got tired of coming out I guess, made a few calls, and here I be. Sold the house, made enough to do ok here, what with my pension and all too.
I'm not one for reading too much, eyes aren't the best anymore, and my hands, well the arthritis flares up and I can barely move some days. There's a computer in the common area we can use, but, I know all I need to know, and some things I wished I didn't.
Never got used to television, especially after it switched to colour. I didn't get the jokes, and the cop shows? I had the murderer figured out in the first ten minutes, why couldn't they figure it out?
Back to here. I'm an early riser, always was. Get up, shuffle to the sink to do my teeth before they come in and give me the whole whang dang doodle wash and wax to get me ready to face the day.
I used to go to the crafts classes here. They were ok, but, a man only need so many fake leather wallets with horses on them. After all, I've nobody to really give one to. If you want one, let me know, I've lots. Did a few of the Christmas trees in ceramics, but, after a while, I lost interest. The wife loved having the trees around, but, without her, it's not the same. Made about 7 or 8, let the nurses have those.
The nurses, great kids. Not the same as the ones we had in the war. Those....well, those were nurses. They could do anything needed, field strip a rifle, put in an IV under fire, drive a jeep, all without getting those starched white uni's ***** or blood stained. And...without losing their caps. Nurses today? good kids, but, not as tough in my book. Things have changed a lot, no uniforms like the old days, pretty casual, and 5 nurses to do what one would do in one quick visit. Now, 5 nurses, 2 hours to do what?
Anyways, I hear one coming now, so I best go. I know it's not my birthday, and VE day was the other day, so, must be tests again for something. I'll be here if you need a wallet remember, lots to go around. Hope to talk soon,
Just ask for Gramps, they'll get you here.
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
Ordinary Valaam nursing home
For the good and the poor but not for saints.
There are a lot of crowded wards home,
For old people with neither arms nor legs.
Here the nurses can’t keep track of everything—
That’s why there are always  stench and doom here,
Everybody has a look depth carrying
In which is visible renunciation mere.
Here lived the hero of the USSR.
Wounded in battle under Krasnodar.
Like everyone else, a Soviet officer,
Just cynically called “a samovar”.
He was never discouraged for everyone—
He joked of everything and laughed heartily,
He gave useful advices to everyone,
And he only smiled at rudeness daily.
They took  veterans “out for a walk”, they
Attached the veterans to fir trees on sackcloth,
In the evening old men were removed from fir trees , they
Had to sleep. Was  forgotten the hero’s
Life. He didn’t die from multiple wounds,
He died quietly, without a cry or a sigh.
Died here so, having frozen veterans.
Together with them died the epoch, great and high.
{2020}

СМЕРТЬ ГЕРОЯ

Обычный валаамский интернат –
Не для святых, но сирых и убогих.
Здесь много переполненных палат
Для стриков безруких и безногих.
Сиделки тут за всем не уследят –
А потому здесь смрад и обречённость.
У каждого - глубокий очень взгляд,
Видна в котором только отрешённость.
Тут жил один герой СССР ,
Израненный в бою под Краснодаром.
Подобно всем, советский офицер
Цинично назывался «самоваром».
Он никогда для всех не унывал –
Шутил про всё и искренне смеялся.
Советы всем полезные давал.
В ответ на грубость – только улыбался.
Однажды «выводили» всех «гулять» -
На мешковинах к елям прицепили.
И к вечеру с деревьев сняли - спать.
А про героя начисто забыли!
Он умер не от множественных ран,
По-тихому – без крика или вздоха.
Вот так ушёл, замёрзнув, ветеран.
И с ним ушла великая эпоха!
{25.02.2020}

Translator - I. Toporov
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