Saturday, December 18, 2010

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

Thursday, December 16, 2010

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

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

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

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

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