Periodically we talk on this blog about the catharsis of poetry -- as a reader, as a writer. Here's a poem about Vietnam, in the form of a song called "Don't Go There," by S.L. Ponciroli, USN, quoted in Frederick Graham's "The Bamboo Chest," which we discussed recently, here:
Don't Go There
"Night in the bush in the drivin' rain
Heard the rockets burst then the screamin' pain
Feelin' pretty good 'cause I'm still whole
My body's intact but not my soul.
Don't go there is what my Mama said
You're gonna get hurt, wind up dead
But I had to go, stand and fight
'cause I didn't listen, I died that night.
My tour was over, I was done
The battles fought, but the war not won
I caught that bird, took me to the World
See my home, see my girl
Don't go there is what my Mama said
You're gonna get hurt, wind up dead
But I had to go, stand and fight
'cause I didn't listen, I died that night.
John Wayne told me to be a man
Defend my country the best I can
My home had changed, my girl didn't care
Made fun of my clothes, ridiculed my hair
Don't go there is what my Mama said
You're gonna get hurt, wind up dead
But I had to go, stand and fight
'cause I didn't listen, I died that night.
Nights at home in the drivin' rain
I hear rockets burst and the screamin' pain
Feelin' pretty good 'cause I'm still whole
My body's intact but not my soul."
-- Song by S.L. Ponciroli, USN, Danang '68-'69
Editor's note: In the photo used to illustrate this post, the handsome guy on the right, with the faraway cold expression, is headed back to Vietnam for his second tour. He's already had the dream in which he dies, and he knows from experience that his comrades who've had that premonition, invariably do. The guy on the left, with the much less wary or apprehensive expression, is headed elsewhere. The man on the right's premonition came awfully close to coming true, as it turned out. Read more about that, in a post linked here.
