One Poem from Bill Roberts
during the war
somehow didn't get drafted,
go off to fight the enemy, become
part of the Greatest Generation,
stayed instead in New Jersey neighborhoods
protecting their turf, watching
out for family and organization members,
a silent army dealing in black
market items like sugar, butter, nylon
stockings, rubber tires for cars.
My wife's father would fish on weekends,
catch flounder, fluke, whiting,
stripped bass, always mindful of Mrs.
Napolitano, Salerno, Derasmi,
all elderly neighbors, share his precious
catches with them so they had
nourishment, solid food so hard to get
during the dismal days of rationing.
On occasion, he would leave his house
on dark mornings, find a carton
of eggs, bag of sugar, pot of butter, once
several pair of nylons for his wife,
courtesy of grateful Italian homeboys.
Bill Roberts and his first writing group have just published an anthology of poetry, available from Amazon.com: "la forza di vita: caffeinated poems." He'll soon host his annual "Strong Voices, Strong Women" poetry recitation in the Denver area to benefit Safehouse and abused women. Bill lives noisily with dog-trainer wife and two untrainable dogs in Broomfield, Colorado. Contact him at email@example.com.