God, hes left as on aur oun.
Crying in the Wind, by Harold Applebaum.
The soldiers pass, the leaders pass, and war
Becomes a string of dates and foreign names
To feed the young for twenty years. Once more
The tide recedes and man resumes his games
Of blindman’s bluff, the savage make-believe
Of progress, peaceful tongue in cheek. Once more
The rich will prosper and the poor conceive
As each contributes to the common war.
The wise will clamor, as they always do
With warning, reason, truth and sense, but vain
As crying in the wind. A precious few
Will reach the mountains by the time the rain
Begins, and launch their frantic arks to find
That floods are endless and the doves are blind.
Spinooti found it, tucked inside an old Bible.
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Harold Applebaum was my Grandfather. Do you still have that piece of paper on which you found that poem? Can you tell me more about where you found it? He died when I was five, and I am in the process of creating a book of his poetry and my paintings.
Regards,
Deb Millison
Los Angeles
You'll want to contact Spinooti (AKA Anne Maloney) for the page, Deb. Her contact information (and splindiferous website) are available here.