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+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+ 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!