Jugoslavia 1969

This has been written as a short story (possibly the better medium -http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/304856/ ) but is written as a poem for Fabian' Franklin's Contest) I would be very interested to hear from anyone who reads both and will give me

 

Jugoslavia 1969

 

 

Blue skies over

 Holland, Germany, Austria, Italy

    Pink Dolomites,

     New heights

        Gone the flat polder;

 

German autobahns, pierce dark forest;

  southward we fly

      through ordered farms – no rest.

        before Trieste

 

Sky now as grey-grimaced as

    Eastern border guards’ faces.

 

Enter Jugoslavia,

Still united under Tito; Josip Broz.

 

Don’t feel welcome – you’re not!

Go down to the harbour. Eat!

 

Why is this place so sad?

 Eat, drink and be glad - -

    to escape.

 

A threatening sky bodes rain.

 Next day, it comes, and how –

   but we reach Zadar.

       and sleep in a hut now..

 

Beyond?  Split, – Dubrovnik,  where

 red white and blue clad children march –

    Tools of State, reflecting from

        polished marble streets.

 

At night, seen from our old tent,

   waves, darken as the sun sets behind us,

 

Blue no longer blue,

 white mountains no longer white.

,

Dinner cooked, under thunder-rumble,

 eaten to lightning-crack.

 

Skin-beaten timpani deluge-rattle.

 air recaptures oppressiveness

     in moments of twixt-flash black;

     

sound crashes upon thunder-sound,

Lightning bounces back

 from crystal white of coast-long mountains

     and rain – such rain

 sweeps under our ground sheet,

     Corners up – we are a pudding

        afloat – held, - top-untied.

 

Crash! – “Did the earth move for you?”

  “Not how I like it to!”

 

Look out – mountains white,

crystalline even, flash-glitter for an instant,

  then black, Black – BLACK - Crash, tent-light, -

     prisms of  spray-splatter;

       sound upon thundersound –

          Thrumm, dumm kettledrum,

             In-tent spray from rain-batter.

 

Crash – is the country tearing apart?

 A million tiny lenses

    on lightning lit canvas

        light up with every flash.

 

Courage!

 Head pokes from tent to seek

    Coastal ballet.

      Light dance, peak to peak;

         Miles of coastline,

            rocks, mountains pirouette,

              on fleet flicker-feet.

 

        Sea is aflame. 

           Is this Hell?

              I can’t tell.

 

Morning, sheet-wrapped, mud-undered,

Sleep-starved -  to see

 Blue sea

    Grey for the first half mile,

      Land plundered.

        Erosion of a nation?

Jugoslavia by the ton

 flows into the sea,

     It’s time under threat, it seems

From brooding days and dramatic nights.

 

We dig a trench for tomorrow

 And tomorrow

    And tomorrow.

       And wonder – what is ahead?

 

Tomorrow dawns, bright instead

   after the third night;

      but still with a sense of Balkan gloom.

 

What,  we wonder, is yet to come?

Could it be a nation’s doom?

 

John L Berry   6 June 2009

 

Shortly after the storms, we drove over the spine of the country on unmade mountain roads to Banja Luca.  Ten days later we were home and watching TV - see below.

 

 

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Earthquake Hits Banja Luka, 1969

On October 27th 1969, a devastating earthquake (magnitude of 6.4) damaged many buildings in Banja Luka and the surrounding area. The severe earthquake in the wider Banja Luka area of Yugoslavia killed 20, seriously injured 150, and left 65,000 homeless. Banja Luka, then a city of about 50,000 inhabitants, located about 240 miles west of Belgrade, had about 60 percent of the dwellings razed.

 

If you would like to read the story and background to this poem, please read my entry at

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/304856/

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I liked this John...there's so many good pieces in this competition, it's going to be tough to choose but I will try my best to pick the best. I have my work cut out for me. lol

[Rune---a Novel]

Wow! This is absolutely amazing and I usually don't like poetry. My dad is Albanian, so this totally hit home for me. This line felt like it interrupted the flow:

Why is this place so sad?
Eat, drink and be glad - -
to escape.

Other than that, please tell me you're having this published?

[emmajoy]

What an incredible post! The atmosphere you've created truly touches this reader.

The sadness, gloom and despondency of the people are very distinct, the country itself - wrapped in one sentence (all that's necessary when written by you) ' Why is this place so sad? ' . The outsider, you and your lady looking in, visitors, aware of your surroundings but not, not enjoying them.

But, then you add your touches of sharp, ripe natural happenings: 'Lightning bounces back from crystal white of coast-long mountains' and continue into the storm, with the most glorious of descriptions: ' ... prisms of spray-splatter; sound upon thundersound � Thrumm, dumm kettledrum, In-tent spray from rain-batter. ' and more... so 'eloquently' put.

And, you continue on, unknowing of what's about to happen: 'What, we wonder, is yet to come? Could it be a nation's doom? If only you'd known, if only anyone had known about the forthcoming tragedy.

John, you never fail to enthral and interest me when you write about your travels. Thank you, thank you for sharing.

[Mary]

very interesting like it alot