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POETRY AND HAIKU
Having a son in Iraq has motivated me to write some military oriented poetry of which I shall include here, about 5 samples. Following those will be 5 samples of civilian poetry with various themes. I believe that the Japanese culture is one of the most disciplined and beautiful cultures in existance in our world. One outlet for this discipline and beauty is haiku. Japanese poetry with a simple, yet strict, application of rules. Conventional haiku drifts from these rules and I write some of that as well. Traditional haiku has nature for a theme, attempts to draw two pictures, inter-related, in exactly three lines with an exact syllable count of 5-7-5. There is absolutely no punctuation or capitalization in haiku as neither of these exist in the Japanese written language. I will include 6 samples of my haiku and 6 samples of my senryu, which is haiku containing non-nature themes or a human element. Enjoy!
THE DREAM
It was a brightly sunlit morn, the sleep still in my eyes.
I had dreamed so peacefully about another life.
I held you gently in my arms, my whole world was right.
We’d spend the day in sweet caress and then begin the night.
But of a sudden thunder rolls, no cloud is in the sky?
A flash of fire and hell is born and men begin to die.
The snowy white down comforter that I clutched in my hand
Now showed me it’s true color as crimson stained beach sand.
I try so hard to hold onto your tender lingering kiss.
I long to find myself still in your arms of loving bliss.
But that sweet voice that softly said, “You know that I love you!”
Now hoarsely screams, “Pull back to ridge and take the wounded too!”
Now I know ‘twas but a dream with bullets screaming by
And mortars blowing us to hell. We were sent here to die.
But if the Lord is gracious and I make it through the day
I’ll pray that sleep again may come that I might find a way
To lose myself in peaceful dreams of how life ought to be
Until my time o’er here is done and my soul is set free.
If it be my time to paint the crimson in the sand,
I ask the Lord to lead me home, to take me by the hand.
But I pray that fate is kind and I escape all harm
‘Til I can come back home to you and grow old in your arms;
Again to lie in peaceful sleep in spite of what I’ve seen
For you will be the focus of my everlasting dream.
David E. Dunham Copyright 2006
To My Wife
I never saw a starlit night that sparkled like your eyes.
Your voice is soft as whispers as from your lips it sighs.
Your words are full with wisdom that I know God has placed there.
A silken thread from China is but twine next to your hair.
Like the slender willow swaying in the summer wind,
Your graceful form enchants my eyes again, and then again.
Twin breasts allure without reveal, the thought of what lies there!
The satin of your creamy skin when fortune lies it bare
Snares my thoughts most passionate when passing through my mind!
You far exceed the worth of any treasure I could find.
But of the wonders God has wrought on your exquisite form
None hold me more thankful than the one my heart has born.
That of the creatures on this earth, in heaven or the sea,
That I’m the one with which you chose to spend eternity!
David E. Dunham Copyright 2006
A COMBAT PRAYER
Father, as the bullets fly, with mortars falling near,
My prayer is for the comfort of the ones that I hold dear.
Let them know I love them and that I will be O.K.
If I survive I’ll pray for them again another day.
But if it be my time to go to my post in the sky,
Spare my loves the anguish of not knowing, asking “Why?”
Accept the fact that freedom is a right that is not free
And that I paid that price today and it was willingly.
I know not the time or day the invoice will come in,
But hold me close, my Father, and forgive me of my sins.
You hold the cards and call the shots in this hard game we play
And if my turn is over, then with You I’ll be today.
Let them say, if I be lost, “He always did his best.”
Let my comrades carry me, don’t leave me with the rest.
Tell my friends and family my life with them was blest
And on my stone, please place these words…
“You did your job, now rest.”
David E. Dunham, Copyright 2006
THE COMBAT NURSE
I just changed the bandage on another wounded leg
And though he suffered silently, his eyes did softly beg
For a way to make some sense of the pain I know he feels
And though his leg will slowly mend, his heart may never heal.
He’s just a child caught up in the crossfire in the street.
He never imagined in his life, that soldiers he would meet.
I just gave a soldier a shot in his right arm
I couldn’t use the other one, I see that it is gone.
He had manned a turret in a Bradley on that day
The explosion caught him by surprise and tore his arm away.
I try to tell him that I’m proud. He’s done all that he can.
He isn’t listening to me, he’s watching my two hands.
I do this every single day, some days are worse than others
Like the day that side by side, two critical wounded brothers.
I think of how their parents feel, to know the sacrifice
That both their boys will soon be gone, they had to give their life.
I miss my family badly, never been this far away.
I realize, though, how small the price I’ve had to pay.
The days are long, the work is hard and I don’t get much sleep
But cannot for a moment drop the vigil that I keep.
I have to do what e’er I can for these women and these men.
My heart is full of sadness for the misery they’re in.
I wage a battle of my own, brought on by my emotions
I must force a smile when I want to cry an ocean.
I have to tell them it’s alright, when I’m really not so sure
Some are hurt so badly that their future’s quite obscure.
I have to look at sights I never thought I’d have to see
And thank the Lord that in their place I’ll never have to be.
So when it gets the best of me and I think that I chose wrong
I realize I’m really blest and right where I belong.
David E. Dunham Copyright 2006
I WISH I WAS AT HOME
I am not a momma’s boy,
For I am fully grown
But for this hell that I’ve been through
I wish I was at home.
You think that you don’t know me
But I just bet you do.
And if you think about these words,
Good chance that I am you.
At Shenandoah Valley
We had ‘em on the run
But I fell to a bullet
Fired by my brother’s gun.
I helped to dig the trenches
At Chateau-Thierry.
But that cloud of mustard gas
Would be the end of me.
I almost made it through this war
With one more month to go,
But I never left Dunkirk
German snipers made it so.
Korea’s been forgotten but
Not by the likes of me.
In freezing cold I fell again
Downtown in Koto-ri.
In Vietnam’s lush jungles,
A booby trap’s my fate.
Didn’t hurt me near as much
As hatred in the States.
I hoped that it was over
Too many years I’ve spanned,
But now I’m dodging bullets
In Iraqi desert sand.
I told you that you know me
I might even be you
I’m surely someone’s father,
A son, a daughter too.
And though I’ll do my duty
Let it be quietly known,
I pray to God I make it
And I wish I was at home.
David E. Dunham, Copyright 2006
STONE ARMY
Driving today, into a field
Reminiscent of a cornfield;
The crop laid out, precisely.
My clever mind deduced
Here were brave souls laid to rest;
Having given their all for...what?
I thought about the simplistic form
And wondered at the endeavors
Resulting in this conclusion.
Never ending as I turned
as hill beyond hill did stretch,
This stone army, at rest.
Equality had been achieved.
Sought by some, opposed by others,
And yet, no one bickered here.
I looked upon stone after stone ,
I knew not black, white, purple or green.
Who could argue at this juncture?
Corporal somebody, died 1865,
Was he killed by his brother?
Sergeant no name, dropped by cannon
In that same bloody war.
I looked and saw no blue, no gray.
But white after white after white.
Now they are gone, I don’t think it matters anymore.
Did it ever really matter?
Oh yes, it was important, but did it matter?
Not now.
I see a date of ‘43, a name, a rank.
What color were the last eyes he saw?
Cold, steel blue Arian?
Slanted across amber skin?
Have they this field in Berlin? Hiroshima?
Did they see the other's eyes?
Do they still think about it? I don't think it matters anymore.
Did it ever really matter?
Oh yes, it was important, but did it matter?
Not now.
A fox watches a goose
Waddle near the pond,
Leading cookie cutter goslings.
The fox contemplates a meal.
She entertains no genocidal design.
Not everyone makes it to the water.
There is no hate here. I don't think it matters anymore.
Did it ever really matter?
Oh yes, it was important, but did it matter?
Not now.
Silent army of snow white stones
Standing at attention, awaiting orders;
Row after row, field after field.
Every rank, color and race
Side by side in unity, equality.
To think of anything else...
Does it really matter? I don't think it matters anymore.
Did it every really matter?
Oh yes, it was important, but did it matter?
Not now.
David E. Dunham, Copyright 2006
THE ROSES
The roses in the garden that I strolled through today,
Could ne'er outdo your beauty, tho' they try in every way!
The magic scent they offer up endows my senses well,
But cannot match the sweetness of your presence that I smell!
Even though they please the eye, with colors rich and full,
It is the form of you, my dear, to which my eye doth pull!
Some proclaim the wonder of a tea made from rose hips,
But it brings not contentment as the kiss of your sweet lips!
Though the petal's velvet, there are thorns beneath that touch.
It is the velvet of your skin, amazes me so much!
Whispers of a summer breeze, through yonder roses yard,
Sing no soft enchantment song, lend not to minstrels' bard.
It is but one soft word from you, escapes those lovely lips
That brings the music I live for as in mine ear it slips!
So you see, for all they're worth, a rose is just a rose,
But you, my dear, are everything that makes my passion grow!
Copyright David E. Dunham 2001
Friendships
I read my book, it’s chapter last and put it then away;
Intending to retrieve it soon and read again some day.
But life is complicated, and days and weeks fly past.
Of all the things I find to do, to read my book was last.
Now my days are settled. I’ve done the things I must.
I grasp the book I’ve longed for and free it from it’s dust.
The story still held meaning as ‘fore I laid it down.
The years dimmed not it’s power to make this old heart pound.
My memories of it’s contents are fresh as years before.
As I renew acquaintance, I love my book the more!
It is as such with friendships, although I’ve spoke you naught.
You’re always in my heart, always in my thoughts.
Now my days are settled, I’ve done the things I must.
I grasp the friends I’ve longed for, their hearts still true I trust.
David E. Dunham, Copyright 2001
SO TIRED
I lay my weary body down
And fell asleep so fast.
My day had weighed so heavily
But I found rest at last.
Sweet dreams did caress my mind
As I slumbered so deep
But all good things must end, you know,
Too soon I found my feet.
But I was still so tired and worn
I had slept not it seemed.
Quandary brought the awful truth
It had been but a dream.
Copyright David E. Dunham 2005
STOP THE CYCLE!
She was only seven.
She’d just been beat.
Didn’t know the crime
Of playing quietly
In her room.
Luckily,
the wall stopped her
Before she hit the floor.
Nothing broken….
This time.
No bleeding….
This time.
She hated
The sickening, sweet smell
From that bottle.
She cried silently,
But promised….
“When I grow up
I’m never doing this.”
….Her father promised.
He cried silently.
He was only seven.
He’d just been beat.
Didn’t know the crime
Of playing quietly
In his room.
Can we just stop this?
Please?
David E. Dunham, Copyright 2006
HAIKU
deep in woodland green
sunlight shafts and shadow deep
elk stands majestic
the periwinkle
meadows purple majesty
numbered like the stars
lightning strikes, fire born
consuming life, life is born
in lush green new growth
silver among diamonds
gracing the velvet darkness
push and pull the tide
sun shrinks waterholes
gazelle must drink croc must eat
precarious plight
cicada singing
concert at night with the frog
drumming on the pond
SENYRU
here and there pen strokes
i see nothing and yet now
a fine work of art
darkness surrounding
night terror captures my mind
heart of God brings peace
too soon gone we beg
for one more visit before
grandchildren are grown
a little toy boat
after a summer rainfall
sails a short-lived stream
i'm so very tired
i slept but now it appears
it was but a dream
awake i go where
i must go asleep i go
wherever i want
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