Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3

[Steve Plonk]

AUTUMN IN NANTAHALA
By Steve Plonk

It’s autumn in the mountains
Autumn in the valleys below,
Autumn in Nantahala is calling me,
To Nantahala I will go.

To smell hickory log fires burning,
Roasting barbeque on the fry,
To hear the hoot owl in the hollers,
And the golden eagles cry…

On a November misty evening
I hear raindrops finally fall—
Leaves come sailing and fluttering,
Along with a blue jay’s call—

It’s Autumn in Nantahala,
Autumn in the hollers below,
Autumn in the mountains,
To the mountains I will go…

Colors are painting in the trees,
Silver foxes snuffle in the brush,
Deer ramble in the thickets,
Wind blows colored leaves with a rush.

I hear breezes whisper to me,
Calling me to the blue springs,
Drinking spring water is refreshing,
Everywhere are nature’s blessings…

When autumn comes to Nantahala,
I feel the ancient hunters’ call,
Colors flash all around me,
As some early snowflakes fall…

Yes it’s autumn in the mountains
Autumn in the misty valleys below,
Autumn in “ Land of the Noonday Sun”,
To Nantahala I must go.

Also, Submitted the above poem to Litkicks.com’s "Action Poetry" page,
December 10th, 2008, published same day, screen publication 12/11/08.
It was in a slightly differing form. (I retain reprint rights.) I published a copy today, near mid-summer, because I yearn for cooler weather...A bit of nostalgia...

[Steve Plonk]

Take a second reading of this blast from the past...

[Steve Plonk]

"Penny Sonnet No. 1"
By Steve Plonk

Round me I look and I'm amazed at man
Observing more sorrow and discontent
As his earthly accomplishments expand
It appears his joy is showing descent

It is strange that after all his success
Man has not acheived the content long-sought
For centuries he strived for happiness
All human advance for bliss was for nought

But man will keep striving to meet his goal
He wants to obtain his bliss very dear
If man wants joy for the shell, not for the soul
To happiness he will never come near.

God sees the plight of the human throng,
God will give us bliss to make us strong.

Circa Dec. 1966, Revised Sept. 2011.

[Steve Plonk]

Here's another one...

"Penny Sonnet No. 2"
By Steve Plonk

Life's burdens squeeze upon us like a vise,
Sweet bliss is not a thing that comes to mind
When mournfulness by worries was enticed
By woes and wounds and other things unkind.

Suddenly dark troubles will iron out
When purged in the very patient way
We are glad and our eyes rove roundabout
A winter morn seems like a dawn in May.

We think about the troubles that are gone,
Contented that we are no longer blue
That things no more are ever to go wrong
Brings happiness we thought we never knew.

Our happiness has to be earned not sought
All joy with troubles equally is wrought.

Circa Dec. 1966--Jan. 1967, Revised Sept. 2011.

[Steve Plonk]

"On a Sunny September 11th"

by Steve Plonk

On a sunny 9/11…
It’s all good—
Far and away
Far and away
Wee wriggle worms
Wiggle in the sands—
As gas towers spew
Flames in far
Norwegian lands—
Ralph the dog
Makes his rounds—
Couples pitch woo on park benches:
Say: “Ain’t love grand”,
As news of “old Beau”
The neighbors cat died in 104 degree heat—
Jasper licks water from his water dish—
Far and away
Far and away
Night crawlers wriggle in the sands
Ralph, the dog, makes his rounds—
A man with “tobacco legs” wonders
If they’ll amputate—
While an old gentleman finds out today’s news…
Far and away
Far and away
Barges go up and down the river
Sounding their horns
Dogs bark, cats meow, birds tweet—
The trains rumble by on back streets,
On the clothes lines there hang the sheets—
Far and away
Far and away
Chicken hawks fly,
Soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines
Come home from the latest wars…
All things made new as the pipeline towers spew
Flames of the day in Norwegian lands—
River otters swim the channels,
Bears forage for prey on thin ice…
Leaves on the trees begin turning
In 50 degree cool—
Far and away
Far and away
Children head off to school,
Page Two
Spring begins its sprung, songs are sung…
Bob needs a new heart, he gets one soon
In the hospital operating room—
The sun in God’s sky shines on salvation—
This sunny 9/11—
There are no more jet planes hitting buildings—
As couples pitch woo on park benches
Saying: “Ain’t life grand”
New platitudes New attitudes
New hearts for all
New backs to hold up the world…
On a sunny 9/11,
It’s all good…
We are enthralled,
God is in our living room.
A Tues. 9/11/07, 4 am.

This is a reprint, in a slightly different format, from Litkicks.com's "Action Poetry" from Nov. 10, 2007.
Author retains reprint rights.

[Steve Plonk]

RING OUT AUTUMN"S BELLS
By Steve Plonk

It's fall, it's fall,
I hear a clarion call:
Caw, caw, caw, go
Three big ravens in the trees,
While hummingbirds hum &
Buzz like giant bees,
Sipping on the secum plants &
Crepe myrtle trees...

It's autumn and I am "up and at 'em",
Drinking "Cheerwine" and heading
Toward the bus stop to
Drop my daughter off to the library--
Then off to the market to cash & carry...

Leaves are starting to turn,
Air was crisp, last week, at the county fair--
I rejoice the season coming back,
Soon autumn clocks will be setback,
I'll soon be through mowing the lawn
Until next Spring...
Another great thing when
Leaves are turning...
It's about that time
At the end of October,
When the bonfires are burning,
Seasons keep turning,
Over & over like
The "circle of life" in an
Old comforting song...
Time spins right along...
Wind clatters through tree branches,
Water gurgles through dry creeks,
Hear whippoorwill's I haven't heard for weeks...

[Steve Plonk]

ACKNOWLEDGE
By Steve Plonk

Life is full of parties--
Life is full of dreams,
As we flip the "coin of Janus"--
Life is full of parties
All the people sing, oh yeah
Nothing do I fear
Things are all alright--
Dream the dream of reality--
Hope is what hope does--
Stay away from "the fuzz"--
***
Sing falling star, sing Pine tree,
Sing to your makerman, your bringer &
Your takerman, Your sleeper & your Wakerman--
He knows your mind--as you seek truths--
He knows your minds eye &
All the things therein--
He knows the many
Futures in store for you--
***
Reach up & grasp your future,
Your destiny is here, wear the costume of the day--
Life is full of parties--Life is full of dreams,
Life is full of parties & all the people sing,
As we flip the "coin of Janus".

Author's Note:
Circa Feb.--March 1968,
I was inspired to answer a song by "Velvet Underground & Nico"
ie., "All Tomorrow's Parties".

[Steve Plonk]

IN AWE OF MORNING
By Steve Plonk

Morning came
Sent down from night’s battlefield
An uncertainty of our souls--
Morning expanded from the sea
Reached the delta shoals,
Left us sitting amazed among the
Tree branches of the early morning dew,
Misting on you & me
Sprays of the waves from the sea...
***
We made it in spite of the dark
In awe of morning--
Signs of the dawn continued
To delineate the murky depths
Of the shore we had known...
***
We’ve seen drier moments...
We say hello to the sea,
If we leave the shore today,
Whatever happens to you and me?
Emptiness has been filled by
Another experience
In awe of this morning...
Following the path of the sun.


Circa March 1975, Revised 10/12/11

[Steve Plonk]

Reprise on reading funnery...Hope you find it droll & sunnery...

[Steve Plonk]

May you find these poems droll & sunnery, in this reprise of reading funnery...

[Steve Plonk]

DREAMS OF PEACE COMFORTED
By Steve Plonk


Sweet song for peace, here for Bill Yeats,

Who died ten years ‘fore I’s born,

A poet, too, I shall die,

I knew it sure as my first dawn.


I ‘d like to write of peace so true,

In praise of our United Nations,

To start all fingers snapping drums,

Of ‘round world festival gyrations.

* * *

Singing of the spring even as snow does fell,

Upon the yellow daffodil,

As outside foot deep snow is falling,

Underneath the icy flakes, a peaceful Spring is calling—

* * *

Sweet dreams of peace,

Will Butler Yeats is seventy years dead,

And I’m here sixty years alive,

When I’m singing peaceful song and verse,

Is when my heart’s most satisfied.


* * *

Part 2

Even so, snowstorm rages outside

The sandhill crane upon here flied,

I know that spring is coming.

Soon, upon the red rose bush, you understand,

A hummingbird will be humming,

Sometime the lion will lie down with the lamb.



So people of peace fret not your mind,

The winter of our nation’s strife,

May someday unite under Spring’s flag,

Blue flag United Nations is at hand.


One world, one peace, one soul

To shape our species destination,

Is to come to pass if we but last,

No more world conflagrations.


No more funeral corteges by car bombs and minefields caused,

No homeless children’s deprivation,

All shall be fed, all shall be clothed

One world, one giant Nation.

* * *
So, peacemakers struggle on the road,

We all yearn for the summer sun,

In Afghanistan, Iraq, Ireland and Kosovo,

In all countries -- rich or poor ones—

The daffodils of peace poke out of snow.

Sweet road of peace beckons on ahead,

No more war widows, no more war dead.

--Circa May 1999
Also Submitted to LitKicks.com.
--Ediited slightly, Dec. 2011.

[Steve Plonk]

I LOVE THAT POCOSIN COUNTRY (Lyric)
By Steve Plonk

I love that Pocosin country
The boondocks near the coast
So wild & wooly,
I take me Pocosin Mama &
She takes her heart to me—
She grows my crops
And takes good care of me…

Fill the ‘baccer barn with burley,
Fill the dryin’ shed with crimp,
Fill the dryin’ barn with corn- harvest
And get a tub of breaded shrimp…
In the style ye likes the best…

Gotta wait ‘til our ‘baccer’s curin’,
Gotta wait ‘til they dries a bit,
Gotta wait ‘til our ‘baccer’s curin’,
Load ‘em on trucks & get ‘em shipped…
In the style ye likes the best…

My corn goes to ‘Lisabeth City,
Or Wilmington or Little Washington,
Best get ‘em there a-lookin’ pretty,
So’s folks can feel that ours is best…

So’s folks kin smoke pipes & cigarettes,
We sell to Norfolk in the north &
Raleigh in the west,
Then the world kin enjoy our tobaccer,
And roll what they like to roll the best…
I’m proud to be Pocosin ‘baccer packer
So wild & wooly…

Lord, I love my Pocosin country,
The boondocks near the coast
So wild & free,
I love my Grand Pocosin Mama
‘Cause she grows my crops
And takes good care of me—
I takes me heart to her,
She takes her heart to me…

Whatever style ye likes the best,
Ye wildwood flowers—
I love mey Grand Pocosin Country/

**Circa Winter 1974-Spring 1975, Edited Jan. 2012.

[Steve Plonk]

Read the above song-poem about a vanishing way of life in some parts of
the country. "Yippee-ki-yay" on a don't grow tobacco subsidy...
I wrote this years ago when I stopped smoking...

[Steve Plonk]

PLUME OF DAWN: Part 1
By Steve Plonk

Plume, escape with me into floral-fauna fantasy
Of the woods, like on wings of birds
Plume of Dawn—
Magic feather of the Garden
Symbol of Eden’s dream
Of the bird of Paradise,
Of the Garden of delight—
Plume Honeycomb delectably drift down
Cover me with your feathers
Take me Plume…
***
PLUME OF DAWN: Part 2
By Steve Plonk

Plume: Flower of Dawn
Paradise feather of the soul
Symbol of flight,
Cause me to alight with you
As a bird into the night-wind &
We will disappear quietly &
Drift up with the clouds & glide down
On a Virginia pine tree & hide within
Pine branches & snuggle, wait ‘til
Dawn comes again.
Plume, come with me into the
Forests verdant-purple gloom
Escape with me into fauna-floral fantasy…
Magic Plume of Dawn...

[Steve Plonk]

EXTRAORDINARY HAILSTORM
By Steve Plonk

Meantime, as I ponder
There’s a sound of distant thunder,
While sprites & cherubs
Fly close to the ground

I hear creatures in branching lightning
Yet , it soothes me,
I’m not frightened—
Skies are enlightened…

Hail is formed in dark clouds,
Blankets lawns throughout town,
Hearing clattering, like pennies
From the skies, forming icy
Blankets of shards collecting in trees &
All across our yards—
A shining for our collective eyes…
***
As cold mist rises from the scene,
Like in some frozen confectionary dream,
I thank the stars that peace reigns—
No tornadoes came among us—
Not long ago, some twister hovered,
Making us sore afraid—

Yet , an ordinary hailstorm made
By nature’s renewing tempest
Has been transformed into a magical scene…
Rising mist swirls with the breeze
Renewing dried gardens & timberland.

For winter is now undone,
Spring has surely come…
From the four directions…
As nature’s icy confections.

3/31/12