on the elevens day
Veterans Day
the sale
yet we secure the sales
and
all the ordinary things
of home
and there are more and better
the people
those
we’re related to
our friends
all those we knew and didn’t know
whom we were fighting for
and we’re not whole or pretty
when we’re fighting
in our
fractured ways
by orders
and we give
as much as there is
and
if we’re here then we know others
who gave it all
by service
home
then
and somewhere else at war
which is the current privilege
of nation
democracy the great experiment
and thank you
thank you so much
for
giving of the gifts
of mind and heart
and skill
and should it go that way
in war
of blood
of bone
of talent
of however goes the willingness
to serve
which we count positive
so positive
not
by perfection
but by extraordinary exertion
on the field
in the arid
dusty streets
by the rinsing ocean
in depths
in heights
and on the even line
that horizons out
to Earth
and finally
to home
for all the steady service
and the sacrificing
maybe
it seemed ordinary
too
and yet is remarkable
in serving the great experiment
democracy
and peace behind the front
out of the trench
also
behind base fences
a presence and an action
which bring temporal peace
until
we all have eternal
c l couch
photograph by Jake Weirick at Unsplash
poppies for soldiers
fields of poppies
fields of gravestones
all traditions
and maybe
nonbelief
should leave a blank stone
with name and
service
on an even shape
I wish that poppies were
non-soporific
although
I guess the sleep effect
is good
in what the poppies mean
for
those who sleep beneath
the flowers
and the stones
and those who sleep elsewhere
for the same reason
after service
after sacrifice
should sleep
each
should sleep
until the final call
that would be
a gentle and firm word to say
wake now
you’re well
and all
now
shall be well
c l couch
photo by Laura M Goodsell on Unsplash
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
(from) “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae
Binary Opposition
‘Levendy-‘leven
A children’s number
Yet
Everything too grown-up
Was waiting
For the papers on the tables
To be signed to
End
The awful
Too grown-up
Thing
Eleven eleven
Eleven eleven
And then
The terrible ritual
Was done and we could say
The war
Is over
Over there
Over here
The horror
Of a heart of darkness
Goes back under for
A season
Inside the shell of all the mortals
And the devils
Who let the horror out for
Four years
And now
To reckon all such times
And all such people
Knowing also
Innocent
To serve
Knowing by country
And by honor
And that was nearly all
Except
The names that each one
Might have known
To bear inside the pockets
And the packs
Before
Each battle
And on the field
After
Until games
As in the most harrowing
Of contests
Call
In-free
Come to base
The dark is on
Go home
C L Couch
Photo by Georgi Kalaydzhiev on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
The Rites and Rights for Veterans
x
I hope no one else
Was lost
While signatories waited for
11 11 11 11
The armistice
In a great war
All the ones
Must have been important
Were they really
And now the time
The day
Is broadened from one war
Into all wars
All military times
For service past
For anyone who fought
Whose fighting
Whose service into readiness
Now over
Now a veteran
Whose remains are
In the earth
Or whose living person
Very much deserves
To be served
In thanks
Or common sense
(someone’s hurt
we try to fix)
And is there not enough
And if not
Why not
Why not facilities
And programs
For the sacrifice
Same kind of treatment
We want
For anyone
Home
Back home
The kind of help
Plus the acknowledgement
For those of us
Moving only here
Might want
Might need
While they return
A victory
Returning
And might need assistance
Maybe much
Maybe grim
Or simply have stories
And it healthily
Supernally
Behooves us to
Listen
Listen
Listen
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by israel palacio on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Eleventy-‘Leven
x
It’s a child’s number
Like the child who grows up
And goes to war
Survives
There are scars
x
To talk about the war is a sin
Sometimes there are vows
Mostly, it’s harrowing
To say
x
Harrowing
To remember
Better to enjoy
Softer textures after
x
But it won’t go away, remembrance
So say something
Like an order
Do it now
x
C L Couch
x
Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Missing at Home
(Veterans Day, Remembrance Day 2020)
x
“A Soldier of the
Great War”
x
Let’s not miss the irony
x
While (more so)
Missing the life
All the lives
That used to be young
People (other ages,
too)
Of both genders
Who served each other
And the national
Cause
x
So many who can’t,
Naturally (or unnaturally)
Enough, remember
Anything
x
We must remember them
And for them
x
C L Couch
x
Photo by Cross-Keys Media on Unsplash
The grave of an unknown soldier at the World War One British memorial to the missing of the Somme.
Over here, we called it “the war to end all wars.”
x
Elevens
I have somewhere
A piece of heavy olive drab in care
Wrapped ‘round himself to bear
Grandfather over there
C L Couch
Florida Memory – Unidentified WWI soldier, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38793228
Tomorrow Is Tomorrow Is Tomorrow
(Veterans, Armistice, Remembrance Day)
Before, before, before
We’ve had war
We have it now
The great one did not end it
How we wish it had an ending
Now we are met
Eleven, eleven, eleven
Eighteen
In war, a number that has twice the meaning
And should we meet
We should remember
Forget the selling
To apply the real moment
An awful, unromantic time
And we tried the poets
Planes flew, pilots without parachutes
Holes in fabric hulls
Not-yet-synchronized guns
To shoot through propellers
Or set in peril upon wings,
Stronger than what held them up
In what became an unfree sky
Tanks inviting death
Outside and inside
Crews just as like to die from the machine
While combatants swing away
From an unbreathing, steel hull
Mustard gas that creeped into the soul
A cost was paid to use
Or to have it eat the lungs
Of enemies we no longer knew
A new indifference to war
On its satanic way to tested strategy
And in the trenches
Was there any glory
As the unknown war
Wore it away to dissolution
Not that there weren’t stalwarts
Loyalty to earn a heaven in a moment
The great war
And it was great
So the letters say
And the poets try us, still
And we go to them
For in the letters’ words and the poem-lines
There is truth
In faithfulness
To family at home
Timeworn or sudden friends who are next to us
Who will not last the campaign
Nor will we
C L Couch
(image)
A cross, left in Saint-Yves (Saint-Yvon – Ploegsteert; Comines-Warneton in Belgium) in 1999, to commemorate the site of the Christmas Truce. The text reads: “1914 – The Khaki Chum’s Christmas Truce – 1999 – 85 Years – Lest We Forget”
Commemoration of an armistice.
Remembrance, acknowledgement, and honoring of all veterans from all wars, everywhere. What do the warlords care? They care for strong backs and arms that shoulder fearsome guns. But in a democracy of feeling, the rest of us know individuals. Hopefully, we know their stories and we tell them.
What do I know? I know their service is a wonder. Their sacrifice a heartbreak. Their strength shoulders the mind.
I went to Gettysburg in late December. I felt it the saddest place on Earth. How many open battlefields have we? How many can house or canopy the service of the dead? The preservation of the living?
Yes, there’s Flanders Field. Somme and Gallipoli. Israel and Egypt in week-long wars. Massacres in India and China. Killing of indigenous that maybe should be classified as war.
Why do we have war? Elihu Root claims that it has to do with keeping peace, an irony of iron substance. The New Testament asserts it’s because we ask amiss. We ask for things we cannot have. And so we take them.
I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who favors war except in movies. I don’t think real people do that, favor war. We fight so there’s an end. We fight so that the fighting stops.
Will there ever be a battle in Antarctica? Can we keep one place clear?
I hope we cherish veterans of service and of war. And the peace they promise.
note
This is from my journal entry for the day. I wrote a poem, which I should post. Not because it’s great but because it’s timely. When I wrote about the day this way (excerpt above), it seemed appropriate, too. Hope so. Hope you’re all, veterans and civilians, really well. If not, I hope you’re better soon.
https://albanyvisitors.com/explore/veterans-day-parade/
The Albany’s Veterans Day Parade is the biggest Veterans Day celebration west of the Mississippi.
clcouch123 
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