ONCE OVER THE SHOULDER
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Our Very Own This is a place where hate exploded. The memory, dark and hostile, Madelaine Bright, brash and bold, Ready to rekindle his love affair with Madelaine Gaily striped barber poles, a candy-cane fairyland; Not a person to complicate her life with grudges,
The memory, brutal and vicious,
Is carved in the soul forever.
Grass and a glaring gash of orange clay stare
Where once the building proudly stood.
Wooden crosses and fake flowers woven
Into a chain-link fence seem sacrilegious.
The crosses fashioned from fallen buildings' wood
Create an eerie canvas against the city's horizons.
Pigeons now roost in bombed out windows
Of contiguous decaying buildings.
Surrounding office buildings are blemished
And pock-marked with shrapnel,
Inhabited by birds, scurrying rats and ghosts.
It's hard, very hard, to escape the ghosts,
The insistent, invisible demons
Who swagger over the city of robbed innocence.
The bomb had the power ten times a hurricane,
Creating carnage of warlike proportions.
Who could do such a thing?
Remembering the New York Trade Center,
The Arabs were quickly accused.
But, alas, it was one of our very own!
What makes a person harbor such evil
To erupt in such devastation?
Will linger beyond the last breath.
Collapsing rescue workers jostling body bags
And damaged children over mountains of rubble,
Through smoke so dense it burned the brain.
The children - live, breathing innocents,
Many, in a split second, turned into angels;
A life, a promise cut short, snuffed out,
Before it could take root and grow.
Survivor guilt hangs heavy over survivors.
Some wish they had died rather than
Live with the terrifying memories.
The myth of the windswept prairie detached
From the rest of the nation's ills,
Has forever been irrevocably shattered.
This city where cowboy boots click down sidewalks
And endless trains rattle the stockyard,
Is totally impotent in trying to shake the anguish.
There were some but few, miracles that day.
For reasons known only to Him,
God, in his mercy, was excessively stingy.
Many who survived lost hands, legs, eyes
Or suffered psychological trauma and nicks
Which will obtain for tenured existence.
The devastation recurs like daily nightmares.
The slaughter and maiming of so many –
Legacy – courtesy of one of our very own.
Body carved lovingly by the Gods,
With world class sex appeal,
Desired by both women and men,
This robust, gritty kaleidoscopic man,
Arrogant and totally self-absorbed,
In throbbing anticipation gazed across the canal,
The gondola quietly slithering the brown water:
Venice, the city of romance and sensuality
Still seducing unconditionally on her terms,
He treasured memories of her extraordinarily alabaster skin
Where veins run blue spider web infinities
Over peach and raspberry parfait flesh.
Then he saw her gracing the exotic archway,
A luminous fantasy paling everything around her,
Like a marble goddess kissed by the sun.
The old buildings shimmering in the sun’s golden light
In counterpoint to her extravagant radiance seemed dull,
Gondolas in pairs, trios, fours bobbed and danced the canals.
The pizzazz of people-filled bridges at every twist;
Pigeons swooping and gliding gracefully as doves;
Music floating the canal waters, sensually intoxicating.
More ravishingly beautiful than he remembered,
The years had been judiciously kind to her.
Years he had longed for her, hungry for her touch
Desire for her warmth, need for her flesh.
She had haunted everyday of his existence
Since he coldly and cruelly deserted her.
She had long ago forgiven him.
Recognizing him, she smiled a friendly greeting,
Which he misread as he approached her.
Before he could be rebuked by his intended embrace,
"Mama, Mama, Daddy found your lost earring",
Screamed the two jubilantly adorable darlings.
Arms intertwined Daddy walked away with Madelaine
Into the setting golden hues of the sun.
He saw this man’s love for this extraordinary woman in his eyes.
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Book Details
About the Book
Once Over the Shoulder
Although the book is divided into five parts, there is a single thread running throughout with varying degrees of subtlety or intensity: things happen, sometimes within our control and sometimes not. But we must come to some form of realization and deal with the situation. Some of the poems begin on a thread of despair, but end with an inspirational experience.
Frequently this is instinctual as in the "Doe", but, too, it is a coping process as in "Sparrow" or "Winding Down". The search for the meaning of life reaches out and embraces the reader in both "Forever Seeking" and "Progression"; and how much more shocking and violent can life become than in the depiction of the Oklahoma bombing in "Our Very Own"?
About the Author
Alex W. Busséy developed an early love of poetry, but only began writing seriously after he retired from a high level Government Agency in 1995. A graduate of the Catholic University of America with degrees in Speech and Drama, his first book of poetry, Webs Solidly Woven, was published in 1999 by Four Seasons. He has received recognition from numerous anthologies, including three Golden Poet Awards from World Poetry, A Poet of Merit, two Editor's Choice Awards and Several Honorable Mentions from American Poetry Association, and a Second Place Award from National Library of Poetry. His work has been praised for its language and vivid imagery, often compared to the brushstrokes of nature! Alex is also an extraordinary photographer.