Old Friends and Memories

Old Friends and Memories

Truman Dayon Godwin

Copyright © 2016 Truman Dayon Godwin

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Table of Contents

OLD FRIENDS AND MEMORIES

BEYOND THE HEDGEROWS

THE OLD MAN AND THE HORSE (1961)

THE SOUNDS OF NIGHT (1970)

SOCRATES AND THE MARAUDER (1965)

OFFICE AFFAIR (1966)

THE YOUNG AND OLD (1964)

MID-LIFE (1966)

A LOVER’S SOLICITATION (1963)

THE SWEETEST FLOWERS (1964)

COTTONSEED SLIDE (1967)

RIDING THE KNIVES (1969)

ADAM (1969)

MEMORIES (1969)

THE GIFT NOT GIVEN (1969)

ABERRATIONS AND MYTHS (1969)

AFFLUENCE

LIBERTY AND JUSTICE

PUBLIC NUDITY

COMMERCIALISM

ASSEMBLY LINE

EXECUTIVE POWER

GENERATION GAP

LOYALTY AND RESPECT

THE SEVEN HEAVENS (1968)

THE LUBBOCK TORNADO (1970)

THE WELDER (1968)

THE GIRL WITH DANCING FEET (1971)

A QUESTION IN LOGIC (1968)

THE HAPPY TUNE (1968)

I GIVE YOU THANKS, OH LORD! (1968)

VARIETY IN LOVE (1969)

WINDMILLS OF THE MIND (1969)

A PASSIVE HEART (1969)

WELTSCHMERZ (1967)

SING ME A SONG (1969)

ON COMPASSION (1969)

WANDERLUST (1968)

THE GREAT RECORDING (1967)

THE STRANGER-GUY (1970)

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY (1968)

PORTRAITS OF THE PLAINS (1971)

THE CHRYSALIS (1968)

LOST COMMUNION (1971)

A CLEAR NIGHT ON THE PLAINS (1969)

THE SPIRIT OF THE PIONEER (1971)

ECHOES (1975)

AUTUMN-GOLD (1969)

A WALK IN THE CANYON (1970)

THE LONE FLOWER (1971)

DREAM GIRL (1970)

DIGNITY (1972)

CROWDS (1970)

SILAS (1966)

RON AND RUTH (1973)

STEPPING-STONES (1971)

THE NEWSGIRL (1971)

INVISIBLE PASSAGE (1970)

A BROAD VIEW (1971)

THE FALLING BUILDING (1974)

PRISONERS OF WAR (1975)

BUSES, ROLL!

LONELINESS (1972)

ETERNAL QUEST (1973)

PARTY GIRL (1971)

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW (1971)

SMOKING MY PIPE (1971)

THE WOMAN NEXT DOOR (1972)

THE MOCKINGBIRD (1972)

THE FAMILY BIBLE (1972)

PLAYING CARDS (1974)

SIRENS (1973)

TESTIMONY TO A NEIGHBOR (1970)

THE CELLAR (1968)

THE QUIETNESS OF YOUR LOVE (1975)

THE APARTMENT (1975)

MY FOUR LOVES (1973)

THE CLASS OF ‘48 (1983)

QUO ANIMO (1974)

THE CHOICE (1978)

WHEN I WAS YOUNG (1984)

WATERGATE (1974)

THE MIRACLES OF GOD (1989)

EPILOGUE TO CHRISTMAS (1973)

THE HUMAN TOUCH (1974)

VOICES OF DISSENT (1968)

THINGS (1972)

THE HEADLESS STATUE (1972)

THE WONDER OF IT ALL (1975)

BALING TIME (1969)

THE PRECIPICE (1973)

THE SACRIFICE (1971)

ARTIFICIAL ROSES (1972)

RAIN (1972)

GOD’S NOT JUST HERE (1974)

WRINKLES (1970)

THE INCONSONANCE OF LOVE (1966)

THE EXTRA MILE (1974)

THERE’S A LIGHT (1972)

THE DEPRESSION YEARS (1971)

CONVICTIONS (1972)

TEENAGE DAUGHTER (1965)

THE POWER OF LIFE (1963)

THE MOTORCADE

LIFE AND DEATH (1962)

LOST MAN’S PRAYER (1963)

IMPLOSION (1963)]

A VIEW OF PROGRESS (1964)

LIFE’S GREATEST MOMENTS (1962)

THE NURSE (1970)

THE STRIPE PAINTER (1969)

THE WRECK (1969)

THE SEED BED (1967)

CHICO (1966)

OBIE THE FISHERMAN (1968)

THE HAWKS AND THE DOVES (1971)

LAST NIGHT I DREAMED (1965)

MY DEAR LITTLE GIRL (1951)

SONNET TO CHILDREN (1962)

SONNET TO DECISIONS (1963)

MY SON (1952)

SIMPLE BEAUTY (1970)

TRILOGY (1970)

THE BRIDE

THE GROOM

DIVORCEMENT

TEMPTATION (1963)

SLEEP (1963)

IF (1953)

AMORONNE (1957)

NATURE’S BEST (1953)

LUCKY GUY (1950)

THOUGHTS (1998)

GENERATION GAP (1995)

LONG POEMS

MR. JONES (1966)

ONE MAN’S WORLD (1964)

A GAME OF GOLF (1966)

THE REBEL (1966)

A JOURNEY WITH GOD (1966)

THE COLONEL’S AT THE STICK (1956)

HITLER AND MUSSOLINI (1959)

THE GIVING OF LOVE (1970)

THE GHOST OF BUCHENWALD

EDENOVA

The Journey

The Beginning

Edenova: The Name

The Valley of Fire

The Land of the Heeshees

The Northern Cup and the New Land

The Orion

The Last Journey

OLD FRIENDS AND MEMORIES

One of the joys of growing older is the opportunity to meet another older person, or to observe two older people for the first time. Often such meetings are experienced with a mutual aura that both deserve respect and admiration because of the roads they have traveled and the experiences they’ve had. Often nothing is said in remembrance of the past: there might be only a handshake, a warm greeting, and sparkling eyes that convey a clear understanding of their unique brotherhood. Younger people who witness such meetings might interpret the event as simplistic and unrevealing, when actually it is a treasure of human communication and a tribute to the spiritual nature of man. It was such a special friend of mine who requested copies of my poetry that were meaningful to him. In providing these for him, I found it convenient to furnish a master copy of all my life’s work in poetry, which is the contents of this book. Finally, I decided to make this work available to any others who enjoy reading poetry.

TRUMAN DAYON GODWIN

BEYOND THE HEDGEROWS

When, within the hedgerows of daily toil,

we cultivate our lives in shallow soil,

then we become infertile to the quest,

and only reap the stubble of our zest.

It’s worthwhile to go beyond the hedgerows

and plow through the obscure foliage which grows

around the private fields of human dreams,

and ponder new lands where the top-soil teems

with fruit of someone’s wise and careful ways,

and bears the joy that keeps his heart ablaze.

Truman Dayon Godwin

THE OLD MAN AND THE HORSE (1961)

The old man sat whittling, his world

a park bench and a sunny day,

and I—being curious—asked

what he was carving. Son, he said,

fondling the fresh wood and waving

a worn blade like a teacher’s wand,

"this here’s a horse, leastways it will

be when I finish." On the street,

shiny new cars crept in silence

so rapt was he with his horse.

He blinked a bleary eye that seemed

to cry from too much sun and said,

"It’s like a real horse I owned once.

Not a thoroughbred, jest a good, strong

workhorse. We plowed many a row

together, that ol’ horse and me."

He smiled fondly for a moment

about a private memory

suddenly launched from the dead past.

I spoke in tribute to his work

although the wood was nothing more

than wood to me, and then I left.

I felt warm inside as though I

had momentarily been part

of some great experience too

vague to explain, yet utterly

revealed to me and the old man.

THE SOUNDS OF NIGHT (1970)

Sometimes I lie awake

and listen to the sounds of night

come tumbling like a ghostly kite

across a night-black lake.

The straining mental scene,

responsive to each sound, will mark

my mind with pictures bright or dark,

or dappled in between.

While throbbing echoes chant

the fact, my fancy’s free to surge

beyond where fact and fancy merge,

where will cannot supplant

a dreaming id. And I

sleep then, like a soldier in war,

as noisy missiles fly afar

but somehow pass me by.

SOCRATES AND THE MARAUDER (1965)

It was a warm day, so I lounged in the backyard,

delighted as a child for the uncommon treat.

Socrates, my decrepit Great Dane, chose the shade

of a nearby cherry tree as though to degrade

my choice of the sun. He sprawled, unbothered by heat,

unblinking of eye, and licking a leg all scarred

from youthful encounters. To me it seemed absurd

that such a big dog could have been wounded so much,

but I knew Socrates had his secret battles,

just like men, when he alone faced the rattles

and growls of his tormentors and felt the sharp clutch

of alien jaws grinding a gauntlet that spurred

him to action. Suddenly, a mongrel entered

the yard, warily approaching a fresh soup bone

I had brought for Socrates. The desperation

for food impelled the mongrel to a flirtation

with danger. Being curious, I watched the prone

Socrates, thinking the silence would be shattered

by angry barks and yelps. But I was fooled; the small

marauder snatched the meal and slipped away with no

more reaction from Socrates than upright ears,

like antennas, that probed the distance between fears

and facts. He simply lay there observing, as though

immune to temptations of unwarranted brawls.

After the event, he resumed his recent flair

for being lazy, and he seemed to me a wise,

old patriarch grown weary of trivial things.

I reached and stroked his ragged coat that still clings

proudly to his frame. He stretched, closed his rheumy eyes, and moaned happily—a victor past battle’s care.

OFFICE AFFAIR (1966)

Smile now! Grace will think you’re happy. Sweet Grace!

She’s too naive to know my silent shame–

(Lightly, Ann put the paperweight in place)

but who would think a diamond is a game?

Except Flo! Yes, she’s had a lover, too.

I know full well the disenchanted air,

the lifeless mien, as truth erases new

hope and old dreams dull as a desk-top glare.

I note your smugness, Jenny. An inkling

is all you need for an account to jeer

my plan. (How like a phone with false-tinkling

bells that signals unwanted ears to hear).

But I don’t care what their dictates may be,

though they must file their opinion. Now Jim

will surely learn. Perhaps he’ll want to free

my blotted fetters from his useless whim.

THE YOUNG AND OLD (1964)

The young, with passion, gaily love and live;

indulgent to the temporary joys

they spend their full-blown energies to have

a moment’s pleasure, dalliance with toys.

Yet youth is more than this: Youth is the spring

of man which mingles with the ancient streams

made current by the ever-filtering

process of experience and great dreams.

Sweet youth! The transitory crest upon

which rides the future tide of man’s affairs,

then mixes with a swelling sea that groans

remorse, yet foams with love the waves it wears.

MID-LIFE (1966)

Another year has just gone by;

another branch upon your tree of life

has mellowed full-grown, green, and high,

trimmed neat and proud by wisdom’s pruning knife.

What is a year that tears should flow

for things blown beyond to eternal past?

What is a tear to smiles that glow

contented with memories unsurpassed?

Springtime is gone, but summer lives

to ripen spring dreams to autumn desires:

Mid-life is but the bride which gives

the perfect mate experience requires.

Look forward now to fertile time

where fallow lies your life yet prime.

A LOVER’S SOLICITATION (1963)

My dearest love, let me abide within

the golden chambers of your tender heart

in perfect rhythm with the Cherubim

who strums your heartstrings to a happy chord.

Permit me to walk in the warm shadows

of your fondest dreams, in silent wonder,

where the deeper qualities of love grow

constant to our lives with equal splendor.

My special one, please share with me the fears,

the lonely doubts of overwhelming moods,

that I may know if secret things appear

as opposition to my love imbued.

Let me be privy to your secret hopes

that I may grow entwined within your world

as harbinger of fruitful dreams with scopes

full-blown, like sails ---billowing and unfurled.

THE SWEETEST FLOWERS (1964)

When I was ten I thought, I’ll ne’er grow up.

It seemed that time was always standing still.

Next day, to my surprise, I was nineteen,

and life was hovering by my windowsill.

But even so, I still was not content,

my fondest dreams were yet beyond my hold,

and I still wondered what the future meant:

I yearned for the freedom of being old.

I wanted independence, so I flew,

like nestlings do, on feeble wings to test

the strength of my convictions, and I grew

in the gales that bore me through each tempest.

I wanted individuality,

so I created patterns of my own

from which I learned that I will always be

composite with humanity I’ve known.

I wanted pleasure. Instead, I found love

that borrowed my freedom and fed on my

individuality. Now, above

all else, I want time, but time hurries by.

So when I remember those fleeting hours

of useless worries, joys, and empty fears,

I’m reminded that life’s sweetest flowers

have essences of minutes, not of years.

COTTONSEED SLIDE (1967)

At ginning time the cottonseeds are piled

mountain-high around the gin, and we’ve whiled

away many hours just playing on them.

On cold, wintry days when the sun was dim

we’d take our sheets of tin worn slick from use

and climb the fuzzy heaps. Atop the loose

seed we’d talk boy-talk as we positioned

our tins for the descent. We envisioned

ourselves as brave mountaineers who conquered

some great Alpine peak and, having ventured,

were descending in glory to the crowd

below. Riding the tins was adventure

in itself; the wind ran icy fingers

through our hair as itchy little stringers

of cotton found our noses. The world slipped

by in a whirl as we scooted and dipped

across the soft surface, and sometimes we

forgot mealtime. When we struck bottom, the

momentum of the slide down would propel

us across the hard, bare ground for a spell,

inflicting on us sore rumps the next day.

All boys should slide the cottonseed and fray

their pants when the tin shoots from under them,

and know the joy of learning from a whim.

RIDING THE KNIVES (1969)

When at last the weather warmed, and the weeds

came growing jungle-thick on fertile fields,

we had to knife them down before good seeds

could be planted. V-shaped, and without shields,

the knives trailed the chugging tractor leaving

severed stems to wither in the sun. My

brother and I climbed aboard