Poems of Life

A local poet shares his writings based on real life.

Sergeant Salvatore Giunta – Medal of Honor Winner 2010

November 30th, 2010 at 7:30 pm by Ed Corrigan
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Sergeant Salvatore Giunta – Medal of Honor 2010

Hey Taliban man
chase my blues away.
We ain’t in the mood
to play with you dude,
‘cause you ambushed
shot and killed
Sergeant Larry Rougle,
just yesterday.
So, hey Taliban man -
What’s on your mind today?

Soon, the s__t began to fly.
Air power, thunder and
lightening
lit up the sky.
First platoon on Honcho
Hill was getting hit.
The captain yelled
“Drop everything,
cross that river,
help your brothers!”
And to a man they did.
Sergeant Joshua Brennan
took the lead, ran ahead
up the Afghan path, then
took six lethal bullets lead.
He was barely alive,
Medic Hugo Mendoza
was already dead, when
Sergeant Eric Gallardo and
Sergeant Salvatore Giunta
saw Brennan and
Specialist Eckrode ahead.
Franklin Eckrode was saved
but the Taliban was dragging
wounded Josh Brennan away.
Giunta lunged up the trail
and thought “Who the hell
is up there?” While firing hard
at the Taliban man,
shooting deep into his face,
which transformed into
a grotesque Halloween
death mask,
with brains dripping out
all over the place.
Brennan was still breathing
and moving, so Giunta pulled
him into the ditch.
Out of the sky dropped a hoist
and a medic with a trach
which Giunta kept squeezing
to keep Brennan breathing
until there was nothing,
only silence and fidgeting.

Salvatore lived on to say -
“All my feelings
are with my friends,
and they are getting smaller.
I have sweat more, cried more,
bled more in this country
than my own.
These people won’t leave this
valley. They have been here
before I could fathom
an Afghanistan.”

Hey Taliban man
Chase my blues away.
You may expunge the bodies
of our faithful comrades,
but you can’t slay the spirit
of the Sky Soldiers,
who remain with us
forever and always. Amen.

Copyright © ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

Winter Sunset

November 20th, 2010 at 8:20 pm by Ed Corrigan
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the winter sunset
steel cold blue
high sky burning red
cedars shiver in the algid wind.

snow on the mountains
white cold distant.
sky turns gray
clouds icy blue.
night invades the forest
surrounds my soul.

clouds fly east as sun flows west.

a small whirlwind
an infinite space
a deep peace develops
envelops, stirs from within.

the winter sunset
steel cold blue
high sky burning red
souls floating in the silent wind.

Copyright © ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

The Lawson Mine Widow

November 9th, 2010 at 6:41 pm by Ed Corrigan
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The Lawson Mine Widow

My man walked today
Down to Lawson mine
To earn the family pay.
Left his new born
This Sunday morn
Before the church bells rang
Never to return again.
Leaving behind his young
Widow
Daughter and
Baby boy son.
And how are we to live
Without him?

6:40 am November 6, 1910

Five good men were
Already 2200 feet deep.
Eleven good men were
On their way down
The shaft so dark
So full
Of the deadly after damp.
With a roar that was heard
For 16 miles
The Lawson mine exploded…
The mouth of the mine
Discharging timbers, piping
Dinner buckets, clothing
As if
Shot from a cannon.
Sixteen good men
Whose fates were sealed
Before the church bells rang.
Who met their maker
That long ago Sunday morn
As the foreman proclaimed
While dropping his spade
“It’s all over boys,
They’re dead, all right, now.”

The man from Lawson mine
Today
Brought home my man’s
Last pay.
He said “Sorry for your loss mam…
Good day.”
So, what is he supposed
To say
To a left behind
Young widow, daughter and son?
The mine men said the explosive
After damp did husband in.
That he was one of the
“Lucky 11”
Who didn’t feel a thing,
Having been evaporated
By the deadly gas within.
A comfort small though,
For Lawson mine did not
Return a body whole
To fill the hole
That they laid him in.
My man was blown apart
Scattered with the winds
Through the town
And all around
Everywhere but home.
Leaving behind
A son, a daughter
A young widow, a broken heart.
My friend, my lover
Gone forever.
His body, my soul
Eviscerated…
My mind is barely hanging on.
And how are we to live
Without him?

Copyright ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

The Irish Songwriters

November 7th, 2010 at 8:00 pm by Ed Corrigan
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Last summer I attended a Glen Hansard concert at Marymoor Park. Hansard is an Irish singer/songwriter (Oscar winner for best song “Falling Slowly” from his movie “Once”) whose songs tend to be on the dark side. He said (and I parphrase) “Why is it that when the Irish drink and chat life is merrry,but when we write and sing life becomes gloomy?” Good question and, being of Irish descent, I sometimes wonder myself.

The Irish Songwriters

The sadness in your voice
a sadness without choice.
The magnitude of the
servitude.
Breaking the bonds that hold,
unshackling the mind numbing
oppression,
delivering a joyous
resurrection.
Yet the pathos remains
in between
and all over the lines
of your songs.
Ghosts subsumed in
the terrors
and the darkness.
Spirits hidden like
the Book of Kells,
unbroken
silent
but not so gentle.
A sanguineous uprising.
Mothers without sons
or daughters.
The spirit ascends
in your verse.
A fierce expression
a razor obsession.
Sadness without choice
tears behind the voice.
Lilies sprouting here and
there
amongst the ever present
daisies.

Copyright © Ed Corrigan 2010
All Rights Reserved

The Attack

October 24th, 2010 at 3:15 pm by Ed Corrigan
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During a recent drive on I 90 in eastern Washington, a hawk flew right up to, and just short of, the passenger side window of my Jeep. This is what I saw in that few moments.

The Attack

The golden brown
russet saffron hawk
came flying to
my face -
sideways to my face –
clawing then braking
hovering in space.
Piercing eyes,
ivory porcelain
horn tipped
razor talons,
wings flapping furiously
oscillating
holding
onto the air.
Textured titian feathers
desert sand ridges
blown smooth
combed
conditioned
slicked backed
of a reddish hue -
beautiful falcon wear.
Pirouetting
floating
banking
suspended for just
a moment in time.
Ebony eyes staring
back thru me
flying full speed away.
A soft exquisite
powerful movement,
silent no screams,
an explosive rising.
Escaping my reality,
leaving me
speechless and smiling,
driving into
the crimson sunset.

Copyright © Ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

Carousel Love

October 18th, 2010 at 8:11 pm by Ed Corrigan
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Carousel Love

Around, around and round
She goes
Around the carousel, round
She goes
Love once set free, returns to me
Here comes my love around again
Take hold of my love if you can.

Me and you, in love forever
Me and you, a love like never…
Never before, was a love like ours
A love like ours is the moon and stars.

Around the merry-go-round
She goes
Here comes my love around again
Take hold of my hand if you can
Follow me to the stars, my love
Take me over the moon, my love
A love like ours makes doves cry
A love like ours will never die.

Me and you, in love forever
Me and you, a love like never…
Never before, was a love like ours
A love like ours is the moon and stars.

Never before was a love like ours
A love like ours is the moon and stars…

Copyright © ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

Requiem for the Living

October 11th, 2010 at 8:48 pm by Ed Corrigan
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Requiem for the Living

The after life. The
oh so sought after
life eternal paradise,
the perpetual light
that beckons us to Zion.
Grant unto them eternal rest, O Lord…
and let the light perpetual shine.
This is a mystery of
faith for the blessed believer.
God receives us into His arms,
His eternal light,
ad finitum to
all that we know, of
all that is known.
All thus as prophesized.
Absolve Domine,
I will still miss them so.
Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy…
Sacred notes of the hymn
dance in my mind,
pulse the chords of my heart.
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus…
I know what to know
my spirit is forever
and with your spirit…
Absolve Domine,
I will still miss them so.
That day of wrath, that day!
Grant them rest…
My soul exorcises as
I write this line. My
heart aches at this rhyme.
The sky darkens as
the wells fill to overflow.
Absolve Domine,
I will still love them so…

Copyright Ed Corrigan 2010
All Rights Reserved

autumn leaves

September 25th, 2010 at 2:07 pm by Ed Corrigan
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autumn leaves

what is it with leaves?
at the end of their lives
so vibrant, so colorful.
falling softly from
maple, birch, alder perches
sailing to ground, not to sky
as death doth not
gravity defy.
do leaves see the beauty
near our end? are we
so vivacious, so chromatic?
in their eyes do we
have a sacred halo
or an evil holograph?
is our skin effervescent?
are we even in their
field of vision or concern?
the leaves fall well before
and long after our passing,
blanketing the brown grass
covering the red dirt
shrouding the concrete coffin.
the maples, alders and birch
exuviate an organic aegis,
protecting us from snow,
storms and the sneakers
of our grand children.
do leaves sense a presence
of new life to be?
or, are they just waiting
for the next falling leaves
to color their existence
through eternity.

Copyright © Ed Corrigan
All rights reserved

Vampire Love

September 17th, 2010 at 9:17 pm by Ed Corrigan
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Vampire love
Muslim hate
This is the reality
Of the modern state.
Fear seduces all
Fear consumes everything
Fear becomes hate.
Our children are
In love
With vampires.
Monsters who
Consume blood,
Subsume life.
Transforming
Human nature, while
Promising eternal life,
Subjugating souls to
Eternal violence.
And ye shall enter
The kingdom
Of the Lord.
Muhammad loved Jesus
And all the prophets.
Christ the redeemer
Died for our sins.
Yet, we are afraid
Of shadows.
Hence, the pathetic
Breathtaking
Mind blowing
Internal screams.
The preacher
Translates hate
Into prophecy,
A prophecy of holocaust.
Afraid of shadows
He imprints his
Abject nature
Onto the hearts of
Sons and daughters
Who are in love
With vampires.
Fear anoints these eyes,
We see existence thru
A fractured kaleidoscope.
We can only lose
This life
In order to gain hope.
Walk thru the
Valley of darkness,
Fear no evil,
And ye shall enter
The kingdom
Of heaven.

Copyright © Ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved

the bumbershoot fountain

September 10th, 2010 at 5:14 pm by Ed Corrigan
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The following little poem came while I was attending the recent Bumbershoot music/arts festival. I sat by the Seattle Center fountain, in the midst of the festive chaos, waiting for our son,Tim, to join up with me. And as time slowed for just a few seconds, this is what happened.

 the bumbershoot fountain

the fountain at the center,
the center of the center
of the universe,
spewing forth resplendently
towards the needle
of all dreams
stationed high
in the stratocumuli.
the fountain, the center
of a cacophony of bass,
sonance and saucy blondes
from all directions circling
shiny crystals swirling
into space
to reenter earth with a
pitter patter
clip clop
plop.

Copyright © Ed Corrigan 2010
All rights reserved
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About Ed Corrigan

I am Ed Corrigan and live in Maple Valley with my wife, Nona. We have two terrific sons - Joe and Tim - and three beautiful daughters - Kate, Sally and Sarah - and one cat named Omega. I've been writing poetry, on and off, since 16 years of age. Early poetic influences were Shakespeare and e. e. cummins. A more recent influence is Walt Whitman whose "Leaves of Grass" is the most amazing thing that I've ever read. Music has been very important in my writing and in life. I am not a musician but early on the singer/song writers Paul Simon, Smokey Robinson and Bob Dylan had a big impact on my poems. More recently, I've been affected by Miles Davis, Green Day, Alanis Morissette, Linkin Park and others. I love to write and its something that I need to do. A poet once said that a poem is not complete until its read or heard by another. Thank you for visiting my blog.

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