+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + The Poets Corner + + VOL. 7 NUMBER 06 ISSUE 70 + + Copyright (C) 1993 Kevin Keyser June 1993 + +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + In The Corner! + + Info, Info, Info! + + + + + + Greetings! + + The Poets Corner is published + + + + monthly by Kevin J. Keyser. + + With this month's issue, The + + + + Poets Corner is starting a very + + Please feel free to distribute + + special series of poems. Read + + The Poets Corner! I only ask + + about this below, in the + + that you do not change the + + introduction..... + + contents or charge a fee for + + + + access to this publication. + + Kevin + + + + James + + Because of Copyright concerns + + Keyser + + and other legal mumbo jumble + + + + The Poets Corner does NOT + +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + accept submissions! + + + + Comments and ideas are ALWAYS + + welcome! You can contact me + + via: + + The Round Table BBS + + 312-777-9480 + + + + CompuServe: 71606,611 + + + + America Online: KevinKey + + + + U.S. Mail: + + + + The Round Table BBS + + P.O. Box 34697 + + Chicago, IL 60634-0697 + + + + + + + +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ An Introduction Twenty years ago a man passed from this Earth to whatever is afterwards. His name was Edwin Cerney. I called him Uncle Edwin, even though he was not my uncle. He was still a relative, I was just never sure in what way we were related. I would spend my Saturdays with him and my Great Grandmother at their apartment. Uncle Edwin was very close to my definition of a "renaissance man." His day job was musical director for radio station WMAQ, 670 AM in Chicago, but that was just his job! This man wrote musical scores for the CSO (Chicago Symphony Orchestra), was an excellent outdoors man, and he wrote poetry. I have always been fascinated by writing. I wrote several short stories when in grade school, I wrote articles for the grade school paper (if you can count two articles as a plural!) and I did write some short poems, but no one ever knew that! After all, poetry was just for sissies, right?? Wrong! Uncle Edwin was the man who taught me that poetry was nothing to be ashamed of, in fact it is a great art form. He taught me this by example. After all, here was this "man's man" this hunter, this musician, and he wrote POETRY! For the next few months I will be publishing his poems which were given to me after his untimely death in 1973. The first poem, "Peers" was put to music by late night radio host Jim Hill shortly after it was written in 1969. This recording was played over WMAQ radio many times. I believe it was the only poem of his that the public ever had the joy of experiencing. The poems I am publishing for the next several months were written over many years, they are his life's work. I do this so his words will not pass from this Earth, so they will continue on and so you, the reader, will know this remarkable man, through his words. Kevin James Keyser Peers (On TV, many people saw General Chas. DeGaulle pay his final respects to General Eisenhower. It went something like this.) The old soldier entered - He didn't walk, Nor march, nor parade... He strode - with the radiating authority of one born to authority - Proudly wearing the impeccable uniform Of general of all his forces. His old bones racked to rigid attention; His now gnarled hand whipped up; The wrinkled forefinger met his stiff-billed cap As he came to full salute. And his face! His face was a craggy terrain Of all of the combats they had shared, Cooked granite in the many suns that had scorched them - Solidified in the frosts of the campaigns Thru which they shuddered. The eyes - Not even the eyes moved in the face - The body was a true soldier's attention... Immobile. The eyes wandered not a fraction as they bore into the catafalque... AND I HEARD HIS MIND SPEAK! "On field and off Our battles have been many, Our victories the things of which minstrels wonce sang. We have shared the glory days - Now, this day, The glory, bitterly won, Is yours." The old hand snapped down; That first salute, long held, was ended. He stood; he - Not looked, not peered - The eyes found the soul in the catafalque and AGAIN I HEARD HIS MIND! "Dear God, few men are great in Your Presence; Graciously accept the best we have to offer." A minute passed; The wrinkled hand whipped to salute against the stiff-billed cap - AND AGAIN I HEARD HIM! "We have shared many farewells. For the last time, dear comrade-in-arms... Farewell." About face; March out.... AND NOT A WORD HAD BEEN SPOKEN! * Written in late March or early April 1969. Words For "Night" Nightide..... Loosen the fetters Of my sun-chained conventions. Let me sing with the midnight wind And roam the undefined corridors Of moon-Sundered obscurity. Free me to fly With the conjur people; Grast me and eagle And touch the shadowed hollows Of the night gods. -|- Fragment (For a girl, dearly loved, tonight married) Your muted gasps of pleasure Sing in the dawn..... A mourning dove sips my tears. *FIN!