EAGLE CRUAGH.COM: AT WAR WITH HATE

EAGLE CRUAGH.COM: AT WAR WITH HATE: "AT WAR WITH HATE Lieut. Florin was a loathsome, egotistical, smirking, Greek god type. A typical ladies man, bronzed,..."

AT WAR WITH HATE

AT WAR WITH HATE

 

Lieut.  Florin was a loathsome, egotistical, smirking,

 Greek god type.  A typical ladies man, bronzed,

tall, flat belly`d and more than adept at hitting a silly punching bag.

 

On a crowded troop-ship, near the equator and in the

middle of the South Pacific, we sailors stood in each

other`s shade in a futile attempt to stay out of the

scorching, blistering sun --------- and we listened to

the unending rattle of the punching bag.

 

The boat deck, not sure why it was called that, but it

was, was officer country, all enlisted men were banned from officer country.   "They were special".

Day after breathless, stink`n day we would stand in

the sun and hate those bastards.

 

Unaware that the Marine Corps officers aboard ship

were planning a boxing tournament, the bag bounced

and rattled it`s annoying chatter. 

God, I hated that bastard---- then the break came.

Charlie the steward remarked, "Why don`t you go down to the Marine`s newspaper office and challenge

that s.o.b. to fight you in the tournament.

 

No sooner had the idea germinated than I was in the

Marine`s  office volunteering to fight the

officer who kept pounding that idiot bag.

 

The very next day the paper appeared with the by-line , Lieut. Florin has graciously condescended to

fight a young hospital apprentice (me) in the coming

boxing tournament.    "Graciously condescended !"

What a lot of gall.

 

The officer and I were both over six feet tall, but where

he was lean, muscular and tanned, I was skinny and

pale.

 

Coming out of the chow line Chief Smith grinned at

me and commented, " You`re going to fight in the

tournament I see".   Yeah, guess so, Chief.

"Have you ever fought on a ship before ?"  No.

"Well, there are just a couple of things to remember.

Keep your back to the sun and when the ship rolls from side to side, you always stay on the upper side"

that way when he tries to hit you he has to swing up

at you and the sun will always be in his eyes."

 

Under my breath, I`m thinking , he`s gonna die.

 

After day after day of insufferable punching bag racket

and seeing this Greek god strutting about the boat deck the day of the big fight arrived.

 

Before we were called to the ring, Lieut Florin came

down to peasant country and invited me to come up

to the boat deck and have a cold one.   I felt it coming.

The old psych game.  So I went up and sat in the cool

shade in officer`s country and enjoyed a cold beer

while the officer confessed that he had been Captain

of his boxing team at Yale.  After 29 fights he had been cited for superior sportsmanship and excellence

in athletic ability.

 

I hated him even more.  He was obviously trying to

con me into a loser state of mind.

 

We were called to the center of the ring, given instructions.  Retired to neutral corners and at the

bell we came out with blood in our eyes.   All the days

of suffering that annoying rattle of the punching bag,

the strutting god-like, superior officer--- it all came

out of my boxing gloves in rattling, hate filled punches.

Just like Chief Smith had said--- I rolled up with the

ship and kept the sun at my back and dared him to

fight .    In a short time it was over,   The Marine Capt.,referee

raised my arm as the victor and I felt nine feet tall.

 

THE SPOILS OF VICTORY

 

The following day I spotted Lieut. Florin at a distance

both eyes were swollen and black,  his face was red

with angry red marks .   Somehow I did not feel that

victorious.

 

The next day Lieut . Florin  was to be assigned a fighter plane on the main island, then join his unit on

Guadal Canal.

As we stood on deck of the ship in the early morning

a lone plane came in to view.  He immediately started

dipping his wings in the traditional salute of "goodbye to my friends" as he passed over our heads.

Just then this plane struck the mast of a tanker anchored just behind us.  As the plane struck the mast it burst into fragments---- not a piece of the plane or the pilot were ever seen again.

 

The voice on the loud speaker announced, "that was

Lieut. Florin who just left this ship."

 

-----  Eagle Cruagh

© 2010 Eagle Cruagh

COWBOY CHRISTMAS

COWBOY CHRISTMAS

 

Cold fingers numb

Cowpony stumbles drags

Through ice and snow

Stars light the winter herd

 

In the distance a carol

Snow melts from the sound

Cowboy feels Christmas Grace

As the pony makes his rounds

 

A steer bolts from the herd

Bless your ornery hide

The cowboy yells

A bright star lights the scene

 

Distant figures course the snow

Who could be out here tonight

Freezing cold I should know

Man and woman and child approach

 

Ragged looking starved

Midnight victuals come off the saddle

To share with the hapless pair

Off to camp on the dead run

 

Roping out of the remuda

For those strangers at the herd

Grab warm garb out of the chuck wagon

Racing back before they pass

 

All fixed up in warm cowboy raiment

Sent on their way all toasty dry

O`er the planes breaks the chorus
God bless all friends to man

 

-----  Eagle Cruagh

 

THEATRE OF THE DARK

 

 The sun drops behind the dark

Hush the earth is still

No living creature moves

Wondering if it ever will

 

Little padded feet on foam

A solitary figure not aloud

Singular method of the night

To lure an angel  out to roam

 

Sinister figures wandering here

Where only time will tell

As the dark excludes the light

All that`s left is hell

 

---- Eagle Cruagh

THE ROOM UPSTAIRS

Happy bastards whoop`n it up
You can hear them like they
Was in the room
The blaring horns  and drum

C`mon honey doncha love me
Come back to bed she said
The thump`n sounds
Like com`n through the floor

Tooo much t`drink
Gotta git outa here
This is no place to die
Can see the headline now

Fighter dies in the room upstairs
Drunk above the black saddle
Left some kids`n sweet  young wife
His life a fading light


Struggling to his feet
Falling stupid gross
Stumbling out onto the street
Clinging to a cold lamp post

Slowly sinking to the ground
Life of a fighter always bad
His only possessions left upstairs
In a room above black saddle

----- Eagle Cruagh

SEA OF GRASS

With thunderous roar
Mid crash and spray
Poet slides into her eyes
She moves close

To forbid intrusion
Opens wide and sighs
Thinking of majesty
C`est la vie

Simple shepherd sits
With blade of grass
hearing oceans roar
The tiny world alive

Streams and lakes
Surge with life
A drop of sweat from
His Creator brow

His world unbelievable
Incomparable complexity
All creation in a shepherd`s
Blade of grass

---- Eagle Cruagh

ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

 

Halyards slapping masts

inky water lapping  

Night birds screech

Hunker down for warmth

 

Dream the golden isle

Where life is warm and sweet

A jerking on our anchor rode

Alert danger mode

 

Ship passing in the night

Pull covers around ears

Sleep as the marina slumbers

Safe leave gate in dreams

 

Fog horn a distant moan

A diesel chugs alone

Radar distant warning

All`s well we have atoned

 

----  Eagle Cruagh

ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

 

Halyards slapping masts

inky water lapping  

Night birds screech

Hunker down for warmth

 

Dream the golden isle

Where life is warm and sweet

A jerking on our anchor rode

Alert danger mode

 

Ship passing in the night

Pull covers around ears

Sleep as the marina slumbers

Safe leave gate in dreams

 

Fog horn a distant moan

A diesel chugs alone

Radar distant warning

All`s well we have atoned

 

----  Eagle Cruagh

SHINGLE WEAVER

 

Leather belts whistle moving

Logs in unison through the weavers

Pins and the pin boy lurches

Pins they shout and the spindles spin

 

Pins ! Again the pin boy grabs for

The moving target

Pins ! ! Staggering under his load

A finger lost blood spurting red

 

Pins !  Again no stoppage the day will be

A winner the nine finger Weaver will

A bonus get and the pin setter gets to breath

Pins ! ! !

 

A group of nine finger weaver and some less

Cursing the pin setter.  Pins !

Today if we lose the rest no matter

Pins !

 

------ Eagle Cruagh

shingle weaver

SHINGLE WEAVER

Leather belts whistle moving

Logs in unison through the weavers

Pins and the pin boy lurches

Pins they shout and the spindles spin

Pins ! Again the pin boy grabs for

The moving target

Pins ! ! Staggering under his load

A finger lost blood spurting red

Pins !  Again no stoppage the day will be

A winner the nine finger Weaver will

A bonus get and the pin setter gets to breath

Pins ! ! !

A group of nine finger weaver and some less

Cursing the pin setter.  Pins !

Today if we lose the rest no matter

Pins !

------ Eagle Cruagh

EAGLE CRUAGH.COM: ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

EAGLE CRUAGH.COM: ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT

ANCHOR IN THE NIGHT