A Christmas Thought: We're More Beautiful Together
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I thought I should try to post something appropriate for Christmas. I first wrote the enclosed poem on around December 2006. Then, like so many thousands of my past posts, I had to rewrite it from scratch after erasing and forgetting it. I rewrote it in 2015, and all who read it for the first time were pleased with it - as far as I know. I cut my thumb last week and had to go the hospital for stitches. It's my strumming thumb, but there was no nerve damage. Something to be grateful for. I'm glad to say I'm still working full-time (nights) after more than a year. Glad about the money at least. I'm working on a big new poem right now. Of course, I'll be keeping it off Blogger to prevent it from being stolen. My other 200 or so poems are accessible from the 'Songs' link at the bottom right of this entry. (Click on 'poems' rather than on 'lyrics'.) Anyway, so here's the Christmas poem. I rewrote it and put it back up on Blogger in my Leftovers blog on Monday, December 21, 2015. The blog's URL is http://daves-leftovers.blogspot.com/. I intended to send this poem to my mother for Christmas in December 2015, but she'd already just gone to spend it with the Lord. The Eloquent Pair Two born on the eve of the snowy Yuletide Whose first pleas for warmth were by mere moments spaced Whose mothers beheld them with joy and with pride Like beacons of hope in the strange world they faced The first to a kindred of long-standing roots In opulent splendour, to ample acclaim The second in modest surroundings as suits One starting out life with a commoner's name Towards advanced goals was the privileged one steered By which words do the working, rather than hands As the son of a tanner was the other boy reared Where he might have to yield to a few more demands To invention the firstborn applied the tuned string Though his progress lay irksomely shrouded in doubt A great deal could be made with the notes he could sing But he had not the fingers to let it all out The nimble subordinate's needle and thread Zigzagged through leather at dazzling speed But his capable hands could not get him ahead For more joyful pursuits, to be free of his need War came upon them, stern and severe Sweeping them off to commensurate ranks As a medic, the humbler stayed to the rear While his opposite bravely commanded the tanks As approached the next Yuletide, by a shattering rebuff With the shells raining down, the tank captain was struck The medic responded adroitly enough To recover the wounded for the fight against luck The wounded went right away under the knife Of the doctors who offered the peak of their care From the outset they knew they could salvage his life But his poor smashed up arm was beyond all repair Among the recovering, he soon was aware Of the cruel dilemma this Christmas would bring As a one-armed composer with new work to share With what instrument would he make his songs ring? At his side stood a visitor, following through With his duty to see to the health of his case And the strains were more lively from his point of view On the battered guitar he had brought from the base The great virtuoso transformed the sad lot Inspiring his captain to lift up his voice And the eloquent pair from performing ceased not Until even the beds in the ward would rejoice Two born anew in an unlikely place As masterful makers of glorious song Perhaps smiled upon by miraculous grace May their acquaintance be pleasant and long (Merry Christmas from the author!) |
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| © 2020. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
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