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Summer 1966
by Keith D AllisonThe echoes of birth, screams of rebellion
I was there, but I did not see, I did not hear
that summer before I turned of age
returning to my homeland, with the scars of Asia
dancing upon the mine, with songs of death
and blood upon the hands
the reality of first love, tasted… then buried beneath the earth
my mind dance with confusion and the breeze came from the Bay
and on ash berry the music play… of those, who would be dead
I filled my sadness with drops of grapes and hid within the smell of burning leaves
thirty thousand human being would rise
as the acid rain fell and a darkness began to grow
I picked the flowers from the hate
drifting into the desert winds
in a Volkswagen bus 05/24/2007 Posted on 05/24/2007
Copyright © 2025 Keith D Allison
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 05/26/07 at 05:34 PM What a powerful expression of coming "of age"... the mental anguish and then the picking of "flowers" amidst the turmoil. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 05/28/07 at 01:15 PM There is anguish in the recall of an era much in turmoil. The nation took a turn that still affects us greatly. Eloquently written. |
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