Attack of the Ladybugs

A couple of weeks ago we were swarmed by ladybugs. All over our uniforms, weapons, everything...Perhaps some kind of mating season?

I guess they are a type of beetle, but it is their capricious nature and coloring that makes them so alluring. They travel across fingers and hands and can be transferred from one hand to the other. It seems they are loath to fly off. I am always reminded that it is their coloring that makes people not swat them or crush them.

Here is a not very focused picture of one on my weapon. It was scurrying around, and the contrast of the red on the black was dramatic. Yeah, I know the weapon has some dust on it...

Are you guys ok out there?

Something to Write

I want to write about something I felt...But I don't want to write. ..Of the death of two people here that I did not even know...Perhaps I saw them in the chow hall, or crossed paths with them. They are gone now, never knew their names. See lots of people in a day sometimes.

I felt the concussion from the explosion that took their lives.
I know this is not saying much...

Something about love...
When you are in love...all you can think of is the joy of now! How exciting it is to be with someone, the trip planning, the fun dinners, the mellow evenings of delight, and just the sweet contentment of being. When that is over, all one can think of is the acrid memories of the past, and a future that seems very black. The "now" becomes lost. It is important to keep the "now", because it can be very short.

Peace be with you my brothers. I get teared up when I go to the military cemeteries, (like Punchbowl in Hawaii). I will feel for you soon too.

Wind...

Yesterday the wind was blowing hard. ..Dry, warm and steady it was singing in the antennas and wires, and coaxing up swirls of dust from the barren ground.

I have heard it said that the wind "speaks". Well, I don't know about that, but it did seem to make a forlorn whistling noise. Perhaps it was not really too forlorn...It was more like the breath of a lover in ones ears...or the noise of a seashell held to the ear...but louder. A noise that is empty, but says something...if only one could figure out what it was.

The way the wind and dust and noise come come together I can picture a ghost town in some spaghetti Western. Clint Eastwood would be walking through the wooden saloon doors in some abandoned run down frontier place. Tumbleweeds would be blowing down the street, and old shutters would be creaking as his boots echoed on the saloon floors.

Those were good movies !

Poem for Today...

I hate writing about friggin' love. I hate it...But I still write about it...
Here you all go. I wrote this last month.


Lost in Thought

Washed out sky,
Scrubbed clean-white,
Wish it was my heart,
-Empty like that.

Pointless to wonder,
Is she thinking of me now?
Right now,
At this empty time for me.

Does she remember a drive we took,
Or a walk we made together?
What about the time we were in the tiny kitchen,
Together, washing and drying dishes.

Perhaps I’m somewhere in her mind,
In some crumpled, folded maze of thoughts.

I live in that soft puzzle,
Lost. Like a small porcelain figure,
Souvenir from some trip,
Perched on a dry wooden pedestal.

I’m stuck at the dead-end of her imagination.

Sometimes she roams into the closed space where I reside,
She pauses, then turns and leaves.



March 2008

Thank You!

To all of you who have written and commented on my posts...what can I say?!

You are awesome, and you warm my spirit. Wish I could buy you all a beer, coffee, ice cream or beverage of your choice!

Thanks all! Wanted to use my short internet time to say...peace be with you.

ArmyPoet

Poem for Today

What Will Not Caring Feel Like?

I trembled very gently inside,
When the old man with a stroke,
Told me “thank you” in his own language.

He didn’t know if I understood,
But he said it anyway.
Saying it so quietly, like a sleeper’s sigh.

I knew what he said.

I did nothing but help him put his shirt on,
Dragging his dead arm through a coarse, sun-yellow shirt,
Tugging on a ragged, pilled sleeve,
I persuaded his crooked and stiff arm through.

I wonder when I will stop feeling…

How will I know I don’t care anymore?
Perhaps when I won’t have to wipe my eyes,
Blinking in the glaring whiteness of the hospital bathroom,
Pretending allergies or yawning is making me sniffle.

Maybe I won’t have to try to be harsh and cold then,
Because I really am.

Could it be, that I will always care, and be sad,
Grieving these patients’ loss for them?

But now…on this day…the man in yellow looks like a grandfather,
And I wish I didn’t feel.



February 2008

Doves

In some short palm trees nearby I saw two ring necked doves. They made a gentle cooing /gurgling sound. Then they suddenly started attacking each other and chasing each other around the tree. There was a dull thud of flaping wings and squawking and scratching.

Hmmm, wonder what that was about?
My quest for dark chocolate continues here...Seems none is to be had at any price in Iraq?

When I think of a memory I don't want I say to myself..."Walk don't think...just keep on walking." For some reason I have been thinking a lot about the times I was in Germany and Italy and how I often use to wander alone during a day off. Walking, observing and just watching. I felt alone during those times, but not lonely...or maybe I did...hard to separate the two.

Tough to get net access here.