PoemsForGuys

Written after 9-11

This is no season for poets.
It is a time for warriors, doers.
When deeds are counted in sword notches.
Killers felled, hills taken, allies rescued,
Strongholds overrun.

If a poet stand up now,
let him be a warrior poet,
Bringing words to raise dead comrades,
Halter enemies, cajole turncoats.

That days may come when coarsest soldier,
Rough-handed plowman, warm-eyed wife
may scratch their small poems
into the dust or the cliff-face
with a charcoal stick
that was once an enemy mast.

© Jon E. von Gunten 2003

"Questions for 9/11"

How could they smile
as they boarded each plane,
greeted fellow travelers
and fingered box-cutters in their pockets?

What man, arms wrapped about a woman,
could press blade to her throat
and pierce her soft veins
for Allah or God?

Did they know,
did Crusaders know,
that every death
killed a family?

(c) 2003 by Jon von Gunten