The war in Vietnam was all anyone talked about in 1967. I was in 8th grade and although I was not a militant protester, I became a reluctant voice when I wrote a poem for a class English assignment. We were to write a poem about a color. I did extra credit by writing about three colors. The teacher liked it and asked if she could submit it for publication. I agreed and a week later it appeared in the local newspaper. The letters began soon after many were complimentary, others were mean and nasty and ugly. How could I, the daughter of a WWII veteran write such traitorous poem. The nasty notes wanned, until I realized my parents were censoring my mail.
Decades later while teaching English at Solanco and Warwick High Schools I would give my students the same assignment and relate my experience with the same assignment. I hoped that they might come to realize that even as teens, they could make a powerful statement about the world – if they used the right words.
Here is a copy of my 50 year old poem:
RED, WHITE, AND BLUE
Red is the flag in the wind flurrying.
Red is the flame of a draft card burning.
Red is the color of a child’s taffy, an apple, a gumdrop, and all that is happy.
Red is death with guns and knives and
Wars with loss of young men’s lives.
Roses are red –
on the graves of the dead.
White is the flag in the wind flurried.
White is the stone for those who’ve been buried.
White is the color of a bunny’s fur, a dove, a cloud, and the love he has for her.
White is peace which we have not.
All men are equal but most have forgotten.
White is for living.
Blue is the flag which flurries no more.
Blue is the air filled with sound of the war.
Blue is the color of some baby’s eyes, the sky, a raindrop, and truth not lies.
Blue is men in uniforms long
In other lands where they don’t belong.
Blue is the world – now.