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    A Little Lite Verse
    A Little Lite Verse
    A Little Lite Verse
    Ebook124 pages54 minutes

    A Little Lite Verse

    By Darnell Fulgham

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    About this ebook

    21 September 2001

    A little bit about A LITTLE LITE VERSE by Darnell Fulgham:

    Born in a sharecroppers shack in 32, I thought we were well off, still do. To Memphis in the War, with picture shows, free books, and indoor plumbing. Went home again, played football, drafted for Korean Conflict, sent to Panama instead. Studied art at Southern MS and architecture at Oregon. Met a middle child like me from Kansas. Tired of the rat race, herded chickens for a while, built a throwaway back in the woods and added on as three boys came, put in a drafting board upstairs, stayed 20 years, moved up the hill and built a better solar shack. Its where we are today. I planned to do a few good buildings but got into a rut, became a hired gun, and couldnt do it any more. Ten years or so ago I took to writing verse. Ive filled 12 notebooks full so far. It was fun to do. I hope its fun for you. Heres a random sample:


    FOSSILS

    A razor scrapes the face of canyon walls.
    Into the chasm at their feet it falls.
    Through time it cuts the fossils free to find
    Their way into collections kept behind
    Closed doors, in crates on which curators have
    Cemented labels: Bones too short to save.


    THREESCORE AND TEN MORE OR LESS TO GO

    At sixty you know you cant be a Greek god again,
    But does this mean youve lost all that you had?
    Growing older, is it all that bad?
    Is what youve got in some ways better than,
    Or has life really lost its zingaling?

    The ways of love wont launch a thousand ships
    And lust no longer leads you by the nose.
    The flood more slowly swells, more gently flows.
    Its siren songs not quite so sweet, but drips
    Its honey still, and still can sting.


    LOCAL COLOR

    He went through the alley past the Methodist Church
    And forced the lock on the banks back door.
    He carried a chrome plated .22 and wore
    A flour sack with eyeholes over his face.
    Except for Mr Finger, the clerk, the place
    Was empty. He asked for the cash he had on hand,
    Took the moneybag and went the way he came.
    (When he learned who it was he said, I dont understand.
    If hed asked, Ida loaned it toim on his name.)
    The sheriff and Chief Miller asked around
    But figured he was long gone and never would be found.
    Then the FBI came trooping in and took over the search.
    Folks didnt take to their snooping, said, Theres nothing to find."
    When they spied on a suspect from inside the school
    The principal had a fit, said, Hes a friend of mine!
    They rolled up their pants, joined hands, and waded through the pool
    In Red Drapers pasture and found the alleg-ed money sack.
    Then, hoping for a witness, they doubled back
    To the end of the alley across from the church and made a stop
    At Polly Burneys home and Beauty Shoppe.
    They asked again if she had seen anything.
    Didnt see a soul, she said, cept ol Duel King.


    THE SOUND A STEAM TRAIN MAKES

    He lives down on the tracks, around the curve or
    Rather under Blantons Gap. With fervor
    He works on the section gang for them.
    In trade the company takes good care of him.

    A whistle drifting down from Williams Hill
    And coal smoke blowing in the wind, the squeal
    Of brakes when stopping in its tracks.
    It cannot turn around, when coming backs.


    THE SEIGE OF BANKSTON

    In order to achieve
    Surprise they came on Christmas Eve,
    With matches in their saddlebags.
    They had the town alight
    Before defenders woke to find
    Theyd lost the fight.

    The mayor in his gown appeared, aghast.
    Why are you burning up our town? he asked.
    The troopers had retorts prepared:
    Its only orders, said their head.
    And good for warming hands,
    Another said.

    Too bad bout the old man
    We had to shoot because he ran.
    Next day they had
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateMar 27, 2001
    ISBN9781477172780
    A Little Lite Verse
    Author

    Darnell Fulgham

    Born in a sharecropper’s shack in ’32, I thought we were well off. Still do. To Memphis in the War, and things, free books, picture shows, indoor plumbing. Home again, played football, proved myself a man. Drafted for Korea, Panama instead. Art, then Architecture. Met a middle child like me. We moved 12 times the next three years. Went home again (not hers, she says) and built a throwaway, added on as three boys came, stayed 20 years. Moved up the hill and built a solar shack. Had 2000 chickens, sold and ate the eggs and later, them. Back to drawing houses, built a few, became a basket case. Prozac pulled me through. Took to writing verse, I guess as an excuse to hang with words to see what they would say. And read, to hear what they said yesterday. Growing up and old, our times and wars, letters not meant to mail, trying to make sense and nonesense out of things—whatever occurred to me. Not too negative, not to whine too much, subtlety a no-no, ironic, a little levity.

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      Book preview

      A Little Lite Verse - Darnell Fulgham

      Copyright © 2000 by Darnell Fulgham.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

      To order additional copies of this book, contact:

      Xlibris Corporation

      1-888-7-XLIBRIS

      www.Xlibris.com

      Orders@Xlibris.com

      Contents

      Fossils

      Omaha Beach

      Threescore And Ten More Or Less To Go

      Melancholia

      The Seige Of Bankston

      A Chink In Shining Armor

      About Billy

      Yesterday

      The Killing Game

      A Perfect Mess

      Roll With Ross

      A Sort Of Cloudy Day

      Bend The Twig And Spoil The Rod

      Symptoms

      The Outsider

      Syphilis

      Marathon

      A Gift Outright

      The Sound

      A Steam Train Makes

      The Nature Of Change

      Secrets

      The Verdict

      Extraterrestrials

      I Like The Way You Look

      Tupelo*

      Peroxide Blonde

      Local Color

      Verdun

      The Maya

      Fellaheen

      Nature’s Way

      Feeling

      Wars On Tv

      A Crying Shame

      Hands

      The Baby

      When To Whistle 2

      Snarl

      Spread Or Spray

      Feat Of Clay

      News Item

      Shakespeare’s Sister

      Parchman

      The Woodsman

      The Lawyer

      The Armadillo

      Thumper

      The Inca

      Gays In The Military

      It Beats Before

      Worker’s Block

      Crimes And Rewards

      Doris Day

      Learning Where

      Your Talents Lie

      Peaches And The Sea

      Youth And Asia 2

      Po’white Trash

      A Lot Alike

      Growinng Up

      A Fashion Statement

      The Architect

      The City Of Reform

      Habits Had Too Long To Break

      The Pyramids

      Something Awful

      Doing Stuff By Hand

      The Seesaw And The Balance Beam

      Flight

      The Haves And The Nots 2

      The New

      Homage To Pablo

      Population Bum

      Easter Island

      A Porch

      The Dares

      You Didn’t Take

      . . . In A Yellow Wood

      War Is Hell 2

      Free Versus Form

      Rain

      A House In The Flint Hills

      Mother’s Day

      Kaiser Bill

      Caves 2

      Anasazi

      The Doo Drop Inn

      The Crash Of ‘44

      Smush An Ant

      The White Man’s Burden

      Bread Upon The Waters

      Sacred Bison

      Sons

      An Essay On Population

      The Red Man

      And The Buffalo

      Keeping Cars In Shape

      On Going Back To Bed At Night

      Ruby

      Mary Jane

      News Item 2

      An Unmarked Grave

      Take-Home Pay

      Buzzards, Rabbits, And Hares

      A Hug Or Honest Doubt

      Guff

      The Sum Of All His Fears

      FOSSILS

      A razor scrapes the face of canyon walls.

      Into the chasm at their feet it falls.

      Through time it cuts the fossils free to find

      Their way into collections kept behind

      Closed doors, in crates on which curators have

      Cemented labels: Bones too short to save.

      OMAHA BEACH

      They almost pushed our boys back into the sea that day.

      It was a close thing, if you want to know the truth.

      The unit cohesion had broken down on the beach. They say

      The contest was our Boy Scouts against their Hitler Youth.

      Junior officers gathered groups together and said:

      If we stay here we’ll die anyway, so follow me.

      The boys, who were only waiting to be led,

      They stormed those bluffs that day to Victory.

      THREESCORE AND TEN MORE OR LESS TO GO

      At sixty you know you can’t be a Greek God again,

      But does this mean you’ve lost all that you had?

      Growing older, is it all that bad?

      Is what you’ve got in some ways better than,

      Or has life really lost its zingaling?

      The ways of love won’t launch a thousand ships,

      The scent of lust no longer leads you by the nose,

      The flood more slowly swells, more gently flows.

      Its siren song’s not quite so sweet, but drips

      Its honey still, and still can sting.

      MELANCHOLIA

      In closets under beds at night

      It always lurks beyond the light

      It waits and watches bides its time

      Without a warning reason rime

      A nameless dread a taste of hell

      The melancholy drills its well

      No windows mar its perfect wall

      No sound is heard no light can fall

      An urge to pull it in behind

      Tley say the trouble’s in his mind

      THE SEIGE OF BANKSTON

      In order to achieve

      Surprise they came on Christmas Eve,

      With matches in their saddlebags.

      They had the town alight

      Before defenders woke to find

      They’d lost the fight.

      The mayor in his gown appeared, aghast.

      Why are you burning up our town? he asked.

      The troopers had retorts prepared:

      It’s only orders, said their head.

      And good for warming hands,

      Another said.

      "Too bad about the old man

      We had to shoot because he ran."

      Next day they had to execute

      Eight hundred head a hog

      Caught hauling ham

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