“Screened (Mid-Sixties)”
Screened (Mid-Sixties)
It looked, from the peaceful pictures,
like the land of the hand-held scythe,
what with the impossibly green gatherings
of ankle-short stalk so gently bordered
by palm and vine,
till the choppers swept the frames
like combines, their great blades
threshing a beat that thwapped
to the other side of the world, even of our
TV screen, where we fought
over the only truly comfy chair, its
thick sag re-shaping to each
as required, the rest of us
stretching out on the living room rug
rather than take a straightback.
We watched, silent beneath that thwap,
the jewel shag of paddy turn
to a blurred-stained-brown, the sweating lens
become a windshield wiped
by blades of chopping/chopped, fogged
by non-monsoon cloud and
napalm drizzle, vibration only clipped
by shouts of Charlie, shots
of GI, the stretch of sagging legs,
boots notched at elbows–the air
seemed to be sucked from us too
by the rotary vacuum, though, of course,
that was not the case; we could change
the channel, turn off
the TV, pretend
that what we’d seen
had absolutely nothing
to do with us there, in our living room;
we could fight again
about our only truly comfy
chair.
I am posting the above poem for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night. (For dVerse devotees, it was the poem I wrote last weekend thinking that the poetics prompt would relate to going back anywhere in time, not specifically 1999!) And if you are not a dVerse devotee, become one! Check out the site.
And while you are at it, check out my comic novel,NOSE DIVE, book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, or children’s counting book 1 MISSISSIPPI. ) NOSE DIVE is a lot of fun and a great bargain on Kindle for 99 cents, only a bit more in print. K.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: collage helicopter war, iPad art, manicddaily, poem about war on TV, Screened (1960s) poem, Vietnam poem
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ManicDDaily 
March 13, 2012 at 7:24 am
pretending what we saw had nothing to do with us…telling line that…and we still do…kinda scary our detachment…nice write k
March 13, 2012 at 9:24 am
I bore four children in the 60s, sent their father to Vietnam for one year … the 60s were the most grueling of our lives! No way to detach.
March 13, 2012 at 10:51 am
Yes, I really didn’t mean that we could detach–maybe pretend. I actually think that the Vietnam War was much more present in our lives in part because the news coverage was so much more personal–it seems to me that there was footage from the various “front” almost every single day; every single day a body count; the coverage was far less “whitewashed” than it is today, and you really couldn’t escape it (except through pretense, perhaps.) K.
March 13, 2012 at 10:18 am
more often then not all we do is flick the tv off and pretend nothing is because of us, as it does seem daunting at times. But then that chair can be so comfy..haha
March 13, 2012 at 1:36 pm
change the channel..pretend
that what we’d seen
had absolutely nothing
to do with us there, in our living room.. we can try to lock that door…but we never manage really…as it has always sth. to do with us…this gave me shivers k.
March 13, 2012 at 3:38 pm
wow–I experienced this in 1968…not 1999, but you captured it by perfectly (even if ‘by accident’.)
sad, but perfectly.
March 13, 2012 at 3:57 pm
very well written, very immediate – and it’s kind of scary to think how often and in how many ways we distance ourselves, pretending that our lives cannot be affected by these stark realities…
March 13, 2012 at 10:00 pm
Wow. I tried a Vietnam poem once. Very rough, hard to write. You did a great job, like the artwork and it’s part in your piece. The detachment is all too real.
March 13, 2012 at 10:09 pm
part of me thinks that detachment is necessary for survival. the other part thinks it is simply self-serving.
this is a fabulous poem, twirling down through the images, offering glimpses through the blades of a chopper.
March 13, 2012 at 11:37 pm
This is just so well done … brilliant … scary clever.
http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.com/2012/03/fog-at-dusk-is-crowded.html
March 14, 2012 at 4:13 am
the air
seemed to be sucked from us too
by the rotary vacuum, though, of course,
that was not the case; we could change
the channel, turn off
the TV
There’s a natural progression here, the one (too devastating to contemplate) leads naturally to the next. Your poem brings it out very well. Excellent piece.
March 14, 2012 at 9:16 am
In many ways, things like the incident this week of the civilian murders, the angry mobs, the crying people who don’t speak our language whose children are laying dead on the ground, etc, I feel like I’m in a time warp back to those times–except there doesn’t seem to be the same level of protest and outrage, just a heavy weariness–I guess that’s the legacy of 9-11. Anyway, this is a splendid recreation of those times when we watched even though we didn’t want to see. My husband was one of those there, and he will never find his comfy chair again. Your poem captures so much, so vividly, from back then–fine work on a difficult topic.
March 14, 2012 at 12:15 pm
Thanks. Yes, the news this week is so disheartening. Just terrible on all sides. K.
March 14, 2012 at 2:06 pm
Powerful and compelling– masterful language here in your descriptors; I can hear that sound, so ominous…. you beautifully convey the disparity between the war-scape and the safety of the chair… xxxxj http://parolavivace.blogspot.com …
March 14, 2012 at 4:30 pm
You conjure up memories of a painful chapter in our history, a most divisive one. And, yes, the air was sucked from us!
March 14, 2012 at 6:56 pm
Karin, nice write .