deepundergroundpoetry.com
old germany
(this story insisted on being written, even as I fought it.
it’s fiction, but it contains passages about love, which
we hope is never fiction.)
I had a girl there for awhile. we came through in our tanks,
in our jeeps, & in our boots. small pockets of their army
tried to stop us, but we defeated them every time, even
the SS. there were so many of us.
anyway, I’m trying to make this a love story. it was in a small
town where we took r&r from the fatigue of battle. the people
were kind & regarded us as liberators.
Irma was her name. she wore her hair in braids sometimes, &
sometimes loose & full & brushed. her skin was soft & moist,
it had the scent of peaches.
she would take me out to the barn, & we’d make love in the
hay loft, with the moonlight surrendering through portals,
covering us in its silvery blush.
I felt that I abraded her with the coarseness of my soldier
body, but she held me tightly, pulled me closer & deeper, as
if our spirits might be forged upon each other, burned
together for always.
after, we hoped that tomorrow never came. we wanted the
war to be over, & the world to be bright & beautiful again;
but we held each other, & hoped tomorrow never came.
but I never said goodbye to her. one morning at dawn, our
sergeants gathered us & we marched away quietly, without
the sweet sorrow of farewell.
I thought about her long after, especially at night, when I slept
in the dirt. or on a straw mattress, with only the amorphous
memory of her, so ethereal in my arms.
there are women I’ve made love with & forgotten, I suppose.
perhaps I remember her because we were lovers in a time of war,
& that made it profound. but there was something more –
the beautiful things. the beautiful things live forever.
her name was Irma…
(Artist: Rene Le Begue)
Published 17th Jun 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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17th Jun 2016 11:44pm
18th Jun 2016 4:42am
Anonymous
18th Jun 2016 8:42am
perhaps I remember her because we were lovers in a time of war,
& that made it profound. but there was something more –
perfect.
A wonderful story told so eloquently.
thanks for the read, John
& that made it profound. but there was something more –
perfect.
A wonderful story told so eloquently.
thanks for the read, John
18th Jun 2016 8:52am
Gorgeous, indulgent, thank you for writing it despite the attempts to talk yourself out of it.
18th Jun 2016 12:41pm
Eh . . . I believe most men have their own very special Irma,
my friend, mine was in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and her name
was Dorothy, and I wore the regulation Air Force apparel.
We made love among the boulders of the Rocky Mountains.
As I read this my eyes misted thinking of her.
my friend, mine was in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and her name
was Dorothy, and I wore the regulation Air Force apparel.
We made love among the boulders of the Rocky Mountains.
As I read this my eyes misted thinking of her.
18th Jun 2016 3:33pm
You're one of a kind, an excellent storyteller, John. Intriguingly and evocatively told, your stories.
A beautiful story JohnFeddeler ... beautiful moments, things do last forever ...
18th Jun 2016 7:33pm
A true hero finds the time for tenderness, even in the midst of battle. This might be a variation on the grace under pressure idea. Irma's the inspiration for some remarkable work.
Just beautiful! My girl, Rahima, was in Borneo a village called Pang Ampat My 'pang' still comes over to me in the warmth of dreams. Maybe it's conflict that fixes these memories? Damn good write mate.
19th Jun 2016 00:23am
Some people pass quietly through our lives while others leave indentions on the heart. They're especially felt in the deep of night and solace of dreams. This is the story of war and love and war.
Thought provoking, John.
Thought provoking, John.
19th Jun 2016 5:51pm
The great story teller.. :)
"but I never said goodbye to her. one morning at dawn, our
sergeants gathered us & we marched away quietly, without
the sweet sorrow of farewell."
Please read this without the but, because personally, I hate the but at the beginning, it's unneeded and drops a wrench in the old gears for me, my talented friend... I have a petpeeve for unneeded words... Grain of salt and all that, sir...
Enjoyed...
"but I never said goodbye to her. one morning at dawn, our
sergeants gathered us & we marched away quietly, without
the sweet sorrow of farewell."
Please read this without the but, because personally, I hate the but at the beginning, it's unneeded and drops a wrench in the old gears for me, my talented friend... I have a petpeeve for unneeded words... Grain of salt and all that, sir...
Enjoyed...
Anonymous
20th Jun 2016 6:23pm
Sir John, this line made me sigh as a most wonderful vision came to mind - all because of your written splendor.....
"we’d make love in the
hay loft, with the moonlight surrendering through portals,
covering us in its silvery blush."
~ Breathtaking
With love always - Taryn xoxo
"we’d make love in the
hay loft, with the moonlight surrendering through portals,
covering us in its silvery blush."
~ Breathtaking
With love always - Taryn xoxo
21st Jun 2016 1:54pm
