
Hello Bloggers,
A Pittsburgh Fourth Of July
By Nancy Wayman Deutsch
July 4th, 2009
The boom of neighbor's cannon calls
from high on the hill across the red dog road,
saluting the grand old flag,
I, The Yankee Doodle Kid, rise up singing,
from precarious perch atop porch railing
red, white and blue, I am for you
saluting the grand old flag.
The children come, throwing caps on the porch
lighting, with purloined matches, black snakes
which sputter and curl and turn to ash
drifting away in the breeze,
leaving greasy marks on concrete
as momentos of the morning.
Next, Mt Lebanon Park with Daddy
swinging higher than I should
sultry wind in my face, laughing,
head thrown back, almost upside down
kicking, pumping, scabby legs higher and higher
nearly going over the top.
Dad Dad comes to the park
striding, despite shimmering heat
in pin striped suit and fedora hat
boxes of Hersheys and Clark Bars in hand,
Sky Bars and Musketeers, and Neccho wafers
his annual Independence Day gift, much anticipated
and quickly consumed, long before summer's end.
In Daddy's turquoise and white Chevrolet
we zoom to our neighborhood barbecue
where the Morton's Dog, always the uninvited guest
will steal a burger or two, maybe three,
delighting me, but not the one holding the empty plate.
Mother brings what she calls garbage salad
and dances in yellow skirt between the tables
her cloud of chocolate hair melting in the sun,
as the men compare notes on golf and gardens
and whether or not the Bucs will win the series.
I hug myself, for soon another feast awaits
this one in Mammaw's back yard, in between
the roses, and plaster gnomes and chickens, where
Judy and I will spit water mellon seeds across the grass
then, eat home made ice cream and lemon merange pie.
The stars begin to twinkle as we grab scratchy blankets,
walking one by one, the back way, to the high school field
where we 'ooh and ahh' to the bursts and blasts and canned music
fireworks soaring upward into the magical cobalt sky.
Shanks mare we backtrack, through the woods, to Mammaw's yard
catching glow worms in Mason jars of glass
Later, sprawled in my own Cherry bed,
windows open to the quiet summer night
I drift, smiling, softly off to sleep
the small flashing lights on bed table
pointing my chosen way to fairy lands.
Have a happy one.
from Between The Lines, pub 2008, iUniverse
Oh beautiful America, my own, my native land,
let freedom ring forever and tyranny be banned.
Let no man hate another; all in brotherhood unite
so we may bask as equals in liberty’s bright light.
Our founders fought with honor, for precious freedom’s sake.
They never lost their courage, nor before a despot quaked.
They endured at Valley Forge, died at the Alamo,
did not strive for glory, yet earned it even so.
When bombs fell on Pearl Harbor, no time to mourn the loss,
our soldiers rallied to the fray to champion freedom’s cause.
In Korea, in Viet Nam, and in far off desert lands,
vowed to stop injustice and promote the right’s of Man.
Let Heaven weigh their sacrifice, their purity of heart.
Let History judge their actions, her wisdom to impart.
As our fathers did before us, we must carry freedom’s light
never bow before the tyrant, stand firm, for what is right.
Oh beautiful America, one nation under God,
in your precious liberty remain forever proud.
As the eagle soaring skyward, fly forever free.
Oh beautiful America, sweet land of liberty.
Nancy Wayman Deutsch
2002
My curse on you my enemy.
I hope you get what’s due.
May you choke upon a Snickers Bar.
Come down with deadly flu.
Go eat a raw cheeseburger,
then suffer from ‘mad cow’.
I wish for you the direst fate
that Heaven will allow.
Perhaps you’ll trip on something
and falling, hurt your back.
While dining out in public
suffer from a gas attack.
I hope you gain a hundred pounds.
Your face droops with lines and sags.
The pants you bought don’t fit you.
You’re forced to dress in rags.
Too bad you got the chicken pox.
Your spouse wants a divorce.
A shame to lose your credit cards
when someone steals your purse.
At your twentieth reunion
you hear somebody say,
“They really ought to tell her,
not to wear her hair that way!”
If you think I sound a little mean
in wishing you bad luck,
just remember all your evil deeds
and then eat dirt you….
schmuck!