Charles J. Ingerson

WINTERS WITHOUT SUMMERS

(Prelude:

Bitterly cold
burning my skin
ever so old
a veneer thin.

Clothes soaked
ready to ignite
darkness cloaked
a forever night.

No rest found
lit skies above
harrowing sound
bereft of love.)

Spring

Always almost there
melting of the snow
dampness to share
rebirth to know.

Reaching ever close
wanting just to touch
tempting and verbose
unable to clutch

The child wants life
laughter and joy
finding just strife
whether girl or boy.

Spring where’s hope
teasing in the mist
as I sight my scope
clenching my fist.

Fall

Ever more tired felt
unable to shave or shower
digging into the veldt
losing by the hour.

Changing leaves color
dying on the trees
as others just cower
and warmth flees.

Agent Orange the reason
finding this Hell real
changing only a season
nothing known to heal.

Fall and football games
scoreless ties abound
bullets without names
make a horrible sound.

Summer

Was this forgotten
some memory past
sinking and rotten
never known to last?

Heat as the furnace
fleas and ticks alive
destroying any trace
of emotions to derive.

Killing mosquitoes
fighting in nightmares
ever searching foes
avoiding hanging flares.

Without summer’s blush
just a grizzled anger
in seamy lost bush
always within danger.

Winters

Tired and frostbite
ice in the rations found
unable to even spit
even if there was ground.

Standing watch for what
freezing cold outside
fires unable to get hot
fewer places to hide

Yet ever weary of time
seeking to memorize
the surrounding line
avoiding any surprise.

Winters where is war
fought 365/7 ‘in toto’
with weapons to score
filled with recurring woe.

The cold seeps in alone
regardless of the day
ever so far from home
nerves and beings fray.

It’s the chill of death
all around in this place
watching one last breath
finishing a mortal race.

No burial party to enlist
no time to hesitate long
no memory known to exist
never written in any song.

Winters without summers
where veteran fade away
memories as bummers
having no place to stay.

Colder and colder I feel
without emotions to know
no longer a past to seal
stunted forever to grow.

(Epilogue:

Glorified is the war
where no one went
no bodies to gore
no shrouds sent.

Veterans each alone
tell their story true
even those at home
when given their due.

But others take credit
giving allocates bright
trying to pay a debit
of some unknown fight.

No longer taught truth
we’ve raised a generation
so instant potato youth
with no comprehension.

Parades and meals fine
music to fill the halls
maybe repentance divine
but apathy still appalls.

Winters without summers
is where some have gone
and many not survivors
will never hear this song.

Yes I remember my friends
whose names can be found
but some came to other ends
because of protest’s sound.

Maybe some day coming in
from the cold chilled place
and a warmth will be within
the Winter I’ll then displace.)