I have a colleage and friend, Russ, who is a thoughtful liberal, with whom I often exchange political barbs. Russ and I share a love of traditional poetry. He writes moving, well-crafted sonnets and some blank verse that is very like Robert Frost (whom we both admire). I recommend his poetry to you--you can't get his quality verse and poetic craftmanship very often in this time of zero standards.
Russ has started a blog for writers of traditional, or "bound school" poetry, to which he kindly lets me post my efforts as well. If you are into such, you may want to visit:
He explains the name on the blog.
What made me think to post that here was receiving my April, 09 issue of Leatherneck, the Magazine for Marines, which published one of my poems, below. I haven't posted it on Tennis With The Net Up, as it has too strong a political point.
A generation that was split
Twixt those who served and those who spit
On service, flag and country now
Grows gray and makes a peace somehow.
Our hearts are seldom filled with calm,
For memories of Vietnam
Will pulse with every beat until
The day those hearts grow cold and still.
We smile across the breech and yet,
The men who served cannot forget.
For tears may dry and bones may heal,
And memory grow less raw and real--
But comradeship still plays its part,
And scars still linger on the heart.
Our eyes tell them we’ve not forgot
That we were there—and they were not.
We watch our comrades fade away,
And know that honor had its day,
And could we now, we’d serve again.
We know who were the better men.
Robert A. Hall
Former SSgt, USMC