"ridgeway" poems
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Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
Harmonica Player
Dad was a harmonica player.
He always played those same several songs,
but he played them well.
Everyone recognized and sang along with
Camptown Racetrack, Oh Susannah
and Red River Valley.
On his visit to Germany
while I was in the Army
Dad played, Ach Du Lieber Augustin
and Beer Barrel Polka much
to everyone’s enjoyment over there.
He could also do a good imitation
of that train chugging along the tracks
down by the plywood factory
in Ridgeway Virginia,
steam whistle and all.
Dad was a harmonica player.
He always had a harmonica
in one of the kitchen drawers
or on our mantle above the fireplace,
sticky from a child’s fingers
and clogged with ******* crumbs.
With six children he went through
quite a few harmonicas.
Out of us kids, I was the only one
to learn to play anything,
just 3 or 4 songs, but that,
none the less, means
I am a harmonica player.
That one Christmas Dad gave
each of his four grandsons
a Hohner “Old Standby” harmonica
with beginner instruction and method book.
I guess none of the other grandsons
had done much with their instrument,
because when Dad asked my son, Jason
if he could play the harmonica he’d sent,
it was something like,
“Well, I guess you never learned to play yours either.”
Jason came out of his room a little later,
handed Dad the songbook and asked,
“Which would you like to hear?”
He picked You Are My Sunshine
and Jason played it note for note
from the music written on the page.
Dad was both surprised and thrilled,
but most of all amazed.
Jason not only could play his harmonica,
but also read music,
something neither he nor I could ever do.
He talked about this for many years to come.
That, of course, means
Jason is a harmonica player, too.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC
I would forget hurting
for too many miles
If you give me
some happy smiles,
I will find the diamond out
from the river
If you make me bolder!
I will take away my pain
If you gimme some love again.
I'd walk through the ridgeway
along with you
If you drive me
in a good way,
I want to fly high
If you give me your sky.
I will bring the monsoon rain
If you gimme some love again.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 1:46 AM UTC
neither do I have a rosebay to touch
nor a sky to love
only I have is a street
that I pass through the revery
my heart is like a ridgeway
that I fold myself its end
a hanky, my lover, lace is north wind
from which my tears pour nacres
Koray Feyiz
(Translated from Turkish by Koray Feyiz)
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
The readjustment was the hardest part
Not leaving the war zone
Or coming home back to his country
And to his wife and family and friends
But actually readjusting to the fact
That fact that he had no legs
He left them back in Iraq
Not as a war victim or injury
To a vehicle accident instead
His Hummer left the road and rolled
He was lucky to escape with his live
The medics took him to the hospital
It was touch and go but he made it
The army will pay for his recovery
And give him a pension
Plus a pair of tin legs
And keep him on the books
An advisory role for future wars
He did ok from his accident
But readjusting is still hard
This is his new normal...
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC