The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

Today the writing prompt for the 30 Day Challenge was to post a poem that you love. I was going to post "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien from the book of the same name. However I do not feel comfortable with posting the poem in its entirety onto the internet. As a creative person I have strong beliefs on Intellectual Property rights and Copyright laws and common respect for other artists. For those reasons I only posted the first two paragraphs. I hope it is enough to wet your appetite and leave you wanting more.

For your convenience here is a link to Amazon.com where you can buy the same edition I own. http://www.amazon.com/Things-They-Carried-Tim-OBrien/dp/0767902890

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carried letters from a girl named Martha, a junior at Mount Sebastian College in New Jersey. They were not love letters, but Lieutenant Cross was hoping, so he kept them folded in plastic at the bottom of his rucksack. In the late afternoon, after a day's march, he would dig his foxhole, wash his hands under a canteen, unwrap the letters, hold them with the tips of his fingers, and spend the last hour of fight pretending. He would imagine romantic camping trips into the White Mountains in New Hampshire. He would sometimes taste the envelope flaps, knowing her tongue had been there. More than anything, he wanted Martha to love him as he loved her, but the letters were mostly chatty, elusive on the matter of love. She was a virgin, he was almost sure. She was an English major at Mount Sebastian, and she wrote beautifully about her professors and roommates and midterm exams, about her respect for Chaucer and her great affection for Virginia Woolf. She often quoted lines .of poetry; she never mentioned the war, except to say, Jimmy, take care of yourself. The letters weighed ten ounces. They were signed "Love, Martha," but Lieutenant Cross understood that Love was only a way of signing and did not mean what he sometimes pretended it meant. At dusk, he would carefully return the letters to his rucksack. Slowly, a bit distracted, he would get up and move among his men, checking the perimeter, then at full dark he would return to his hole and watch the night and wonder if Martha was a virgin.

The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wrist watches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military payment Certificates, C rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between fifteen and twenty pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism. Henry Dobbins, who was a big man, carried extra rations; he was especially fond of canned peaches in heavy syrup over pound cake. Dave Jensen, who practiced field hygiene, carried a toothbrush, dental floss, and several hotel-size bars of soap he'd stolen on R&R in Sydney, Australia. Ted Lavender, who was scared, carried tranquilizers until he was shot in the head outside the village of Than Khe in mid-April. By necessity, and because it was SOP, they all carried steel helmets that weighed five pounds including the liner aid camouflage cover. They carried the standard fatigue jackets and trousers. Very few carried underwear. On their feet they carried jungle boots-2.1 pounds - and Dave Jensen carried three pairs of socks and a can of Dr. Scholl's foot powder as a precaution against trench foot. Until he was shot, Ted Lavender carried six or seven ounces of premium dope, which for him was 2 necessity. Mitchell Sanders, the RT0, carried condoms. Norman Bowker carried a diary. Rat Kiley carried comic books. Kiowa, a devout Baptist, Carried an illustrated New Testament that had been presented to him by his father, who taught Sunday school in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. As a hedge against bad times, however, Kiowa also carried his grandmother's distrust of the white man, his grandfather's old hunting hatchet. Necessity dictated. Because the land was mined and booby-trapped, it was SOP for each man to carry a steel-centered, nylon-covered flak jacket, which weighed 6.7 pounds, but which on hot days seemed much heavier. Because you could die so quickly, each man carried at least one large compress bandage, usually in the helmet band for easy access. Because the nights were cold, and because the monsoons were wet, each carried a green plastic poncho that could be used as a raincoat or groundsheet or makeshift tent. With its quilted liner, the poncho weighed almost two pounds, but it was worth every ounce. In April, for instance, when Ted Lavender was shot, they used his poncho to wrap him up, then to carry him across the paddy, then to lift him into the chopper that took him away.

Dark

Dark
By: James Dubeau

The day is bright
But I am dark
My soul should soar
But it is dark
Where have they all gone?
When it is so dark
My friends left me
In the dark
My parents left me
In the dark
Everything has left me
In the dark
There can be no other
In the dark
Only my poems
Can light the dark
For me to be happy
With the dark
In the
Dark

Candy

Candy
By: James Dubeau

Candy
On the brain
Candy
Delight
Candy
Will soon
Be eaten
All night

Life In Six

Life In Six
By: James Dubeau

Maniac
Scribbler
Mad for
Future’s
Happiness

Change

Change
By: James Dubeau

Change

Alteration
Modification
Redoing
Remaking
Remodeling
Revamping
Reworking
Reviewed
Revised
Variation
Rectification
Reform
Deform
Transform
Distort
Convert
Mutate
Fluctuate
Oscillate
Shift

Tweak
Redesign
Redo
Fluctuation
Oscillation
Transformation
Transmutation
Modulation
Regulation
Substitution
Wavering
Replacement

Bread
Bucks
Cabbage
Cash
Chips
Coin
Currency
Gold
Green
Jack
Kale
Loot
Moola
Scratch
Tender
Coinage

Penny
Nickel
Dime
Quarter

Change

Future

Future
By: James Dubeau

Epigraph from Clint Eastwood
By: Gorillaz

I ain't happy,
I'm feeling glad
I got sunshine in a bag
I'm useless but
Not for long
The future is coming on

Sitting
Waiting
For time to pass
I cannot be happy
Not fully
Not yet
However
I can be glad
Things will change
Plans are in motion
Plans which need
Just another week
Of fermentation
Before this sunshine
Can be let loose
From the brown paper bag
Washing away
Idle uselessness

Om Noms

Om Noms
By: James Dubeau

Om Noms
Is the place to be
If you want
Fizzle in your pop
And a vermillion gumball
Or maybe a double-decker
Shot-put sized
Rhinoceros cheeseburger
On a chlorophyll colored bun
But if that is too square
For your rhythmical adrenaline
Then muddle your way
Through our abstract menu
Which will vilify
All others
That have come before
Take the time
To circumspect our
Emblazoned walls
While a bespectacled waitress
Asks you to integrate
Into the booths
Just remember
Donkeys
Are for the kids to ride
There will be no
Donkey-punching

Driven Mad

Driven Mad
By: James Dubeau

Glitchy
Agitating
Flashing computer screen
Will make me certifiable
Unless…

Little Old Tree

Little Old Tree
By: James Dubeau

Little old tree
Out in the yard
Standing by your lonesome
Not expected to live
Not expected to survive
Not given a chance
Not like the rest
Which dot the yard
You are alone
Fighting the world
With no help
No support
No nothing
Somehow
You are surviving

Forgiveness?

Forgiveness?
By: James Dubeau

As I lie still
My brain is awake
Going over
The instant
It all went bad
I'm sorry
I wasn’t there for you
I’m sorry
I wasn’t your friend
When you needed one
I’m sorry
My shoulder wasn’t there
For your eyes to weep upon
I’m sorry
I laughed and poked fun
When you were hurt
I’m sorry
All that I did
Was selfish
I did not know
Realize
What had been done
Damn
I deserve the hate
Wound up
Inside of you
Target me with it
If you would like
I deserve it
I want it
Go ahead
Don't hold back
You should not hesitate
To give me what I have coming
I know you are just as tired
Of all this as I am
But there are no more reasons
To lose sleep
When we can
Get it out
Into the open
And close this rift
Sure
It looks like
This may take some time
While we sort
Everything out
But that will be time
What we need to do
In order to get
Everything back
To where
It once was
To where
We can be friends
Once again
I will be waiting
And writing
My thoughts
And feelings
Until that time
Is here

Lemons

Lemons
By: James Dubeau

There are times I hate
When you roll out of place
From the shelf next to the limes

Marathon Haiku

Marathon Haiku
By: James Dubeau

Legs are churning hard
Just one more mile to go
You can finish it

Goblins Dance

Goblins Dance
By: James Dubeau

Goblins dance
About a cold fire
With the fury
Of a worm’s
Contempt for life
Awaking the spirits
In the trees
In the rocks
In the air
Demanding strength
Upon their domain
To bury
Hawkwing’s passions
Away for good
For time
To scatter

Yum

Yum
By: James Dubeau

When
Was the last time
We went out
For all you can eat
Steak fries

Freedom

Freedom
By: James Dubeau

Jumping for cover
Armed to the teeth
Minutemen must die
Embracing their fate
Saving this land