photo by S. Thomas Summers
“Future years will never know the seething hell and the black infernal
background, the countless minor scenes and interiors of the secession war; and
it is best they should not. The real war will never get in the books.” – W.
Whitman.
Thanks to all the men and women who saw the “interior of war” and were
denied the opportunity to share their tales. You are all heroes. Although I
do not know your names nor do I know your faces, I shall never forget
you.
Posted in America, Memorial Day
Tagged American Civil War, History, Memorial Day, Shopping, Union, United States, Wars and Conflicts, World War I
A Writer’s Dream Room
The photo featured here…well, it’s beautiful. Isn’t? It’s a reader’s/writer’s dream. Perhaps one day I’ll have a room like this in my house, a room with dark brown, leather chairs, shelves heavy with old books, a fire place, and most of all, a room draped with a silken quiet. Yes, there I could read, and write, and think, but I don’t have a room like that.
Yesterday, I started a poem in a local karate dojo, where my son is taught karate. Kids were everywhere: noise, noise, noise. And I was sitting on a plastic chair – no brown leather. And I couldn’t find the glow, the warmth of a fire – or a fireplace for that matter. Still I wrote anyway, the first few words of a poem. I saw my son smiling. I watched him diligently punch this and chop that. He was happy. That made me happy. It made me warm. Guess my dream room can wait.
Below are the words I spoke of, the first words a new poem crafted in a karate dojo. In the poem, my new book’s protagonist, writes about waking up after killing a Confederate soldier, killing him brutally, and after being injured himself.
The Ache of Light
September 3, 1861
When my eyes opened again,
light draped over me like an ache;
it soaked through skin, into bone
and caught fire.
Posted in Writing, Writing Process
Tagged Art, Karate, Leather, Literature, Poet, Poetry, Shopping, World Literature
“The most beloved symbol of the American family Christmas–the decorated Christmas tree–came into its own during the Civil War. Christmas trees had become popular in the decade before the war, and in the early 1860s, many families were beginning to decorate them. Illustrators working for the national weeklies helped popularize the practice by putting decorated table-top Christmas trees in their drawings” (
http://dburgin.tripod.com/cw_xmas/cwarchristmas.html
).
Here’s a poem inspired by the information presented above.
`Round that Tree
Me and a few boys got ta thinkin’ –
we need ourselves a tree all dressed up
like Christmas time. Found ourselves
a stout pine on the skirts of camp,
but spent more than a minute scratchin’
our heads what ta hang on it.
Jasper hung his hat on a limb.
Smiling, we all done the same.
Started collecting hats from this fella and that –
they all gave`em too, once they
knew what we was doin’. We all stood
`round that tree for a bit,
even when the wind strated ta bite.
All said and done, for a time
none of us thought
about the blood and chunk
we usually gotta juggle.
Damn nice tree it is.
Related articles
Posted in American Civil War, Christmas, Poem, Poetry
Tagged Christmas, Christmas tree, Decorations and Props, Holidays, Shopping, Trees, United States, University of Sheffield
I don’t have a desk. I have a couch. When I write, I sit on it. I’m sitting on it now. I don’t have a desk. But, if I did, I’d put a skull on it. My desk would sit in a dark room that harbored musty scents, earth and wood. It would sit in a room illuminated by candles and be cluttered with large leather books, and maps, and parchment…and there’d be a skull on it – if I had a desk, but I don’t.
Posted in A Poet's Life, S. Thomas Summers, Writing, Writing Inspirations
Tagged Bible, Business, Desk, Health, Home and Garden, Shopping, Sitting, Standing desk
I like old maps, real old maps. You’ve seen them – in museums and dusty text books. The maps decorated with giant sea creatures swallowing sailing ships. The maps explorers used before the world was really explored. Unlike modern maps, old maps represent best guesses rather than actual places. And those sea creatures, those terrible leviathans – the map makers and the map users believed they actually existed. Be careful, sail straight, know the stars, follow the “map” or else…behemoths get hungry.
What adventure! What wonderful adventure! Where can we adventure like that now? I follow a map, an incredible map. My maps are called stories and I’m a story maker. I pick up my pen and sail away. Maybe I’ll get lost, maybe I’ll uncover treasure, maybe a great, terrible monster will set upon me…maybe I’ll be lucky and experience all of it.
I’m a story maker. And I like maps.
Posted in A Poet's Life, S. Thomas Summers, Writing
Tagged Cartography, Early world maps, Google, Google Map Maker, Google Maps, List of cartographers, Map, Old maps, sea monsters, Shopping, Writing
Here, Everly’s heart turns toward the boys he now must command, his former students, and his heart breaks.
And if you’re interested, I revised my previous post.
Please Live
June 4, 1861 – Entry II
Boys – I once taught
you to march to the thump
of your own soul, the music
of your own mind. And now,
like mindless fools, you shuffle
across this dirt, burdened
by the commands
of buffoons draped in blue,
adorned with gold.
Yet, each time you obey
their orders, abandon
your thoughts as a child
abandons his will
to a stern father, you defy
this war and teach your soul to live.
By God, please live.
Posted in American Civil War, History, Poetry, Soldier's Life
Tagged 1960s, Arts, Entertainment, Music, Northern Soul, Shopping, Soul, United States
Everly meets his commanding officer.
General’s Tent
June 3, 1861
The general and his aides sat on wooden chairs
outside his tent – crows perched on a rail fence.
The table before them – draped with maps
tainted with the pencil marks of battles to be.
Join us, Everly, the general said – his face
cowers behind a beard the hangs from his jowls
like a bandit’s mask. A teacher, Everly? These boys
need an officer. They need orders, not lessons.
I don’t want them thinking. I want them fighting.
But you can rally them, lieutenant. So raise
your hands to heaven and cloud their eyes
with poetry – just make sure you spark
fires in each ass. Make war glorious
and you’ll make captain before you
fart enough to fill a whiskey flask.
Posted in American Civil War, History, Poetry
Tagged Camps, History, Home and Garden, Recreation, Recreational vehicle, Seating, Shopping, Tent
War begins to influence even Everly’s children.
Legacy
April 22, 1861
My children: dear little Abigail –
a voice so soft. Sing me your songs:
fairies, angels, and all things
laced with sugar. And my Phillip –
only two years older than your sister
I’ve watched you lay a stick
on your shoulder as a soldier
burdens his shoulder with a musket.
I’ve watched you take aim
at imagined enemies.
Charge, you cry – charge.
Posted in American Civil War, History, Poetry
Tagged Abigail, Art, FabSugar, Health, Phillip, Shopping, Three Musketeers, United States
On this, President Lincoln’s 203 birthday…
Here’s a sentiment I’m sure more than one Confederate soldier expressed. Yes, a bit odd for a poem commemorating the President’s birthday, but I like to keep things…fresh.
Birthday Wish
Sure, I’d let’em eat some cake,
make a wish and blow out them candles -
but war is war. So, after I sung
him his birthday song,
I’d slide my knife ‘cross his neck-
let life trickle from him like sryup
trickles from a tree. Ain’t no hate
in it. I just wanna go home.
Truth be told, I’d drain Mr. Davis, too -
if it would get me home.
Related articles
“The most beloved symbol of the American family Christmas–the decorated Christmas tree–came into its own during the Civil War. Christmas trees had become popular in the decade before the war, and in the early 1860s, many families were beginning to decorate them. Illustrators working for the national weeklies helped popularize the practice by putting decorated table-top Christmas trees in their drawings” (
http://dburgin.tripod.com/cw_xmas/cwarchristmas.html
).
Here’s a poem inspired by the information presented above.
`Round that Tree
Me and a few boys got ta thinkin’ –
we need ourselves a tree all dressed up
like Christmas time. Found ourselves
a stout pine on the skirts of camp,
but spent more than a minute scratchin’
our heads what ta hang on it.
Jasper hung his hat on a limb.
Smiling, we all done the same.
Started collecting hats from this fella and that –
they all gave`em too, once they
knew what we was doin’. We all stood
`round that tree for a bit,
even when the wind strated ta bite.
All said and done, for a time
none of us thought
about the blood and chunk
we usually gotta juggle.
Damn nice tree it is.
Posted in American Civil War, Christmas, History, Poetry
Tagged Business and Economy, Christmas, Christmas tree, Decorations and Props, Holidays, Horticulture, Shopping, Trees
S. Thomas Summers is a teacher of Writing and Literature at Wayne Hills High School in Wayne, NJ and an adjunct writing professor at Passaic County Community College in Wanaque, NJ.
He is the author of Private Hercules McGraw: Poems of the American Civil War, published by Anaphora Literary Press. It is available on amazon.com.
