Ruth Carey

Ruth Carey Poems

I grew up in Riverdale. IN the 1930's. Caves and woods. Warm spring days, long summer
evenings, crisp autumn, slanted sunlight. On the radio: "Jack Armstrong, the all-American boy!"
"This is CX-4, calling Control Tower.
Captain Midnight, coming in!"
...

The flags are flying, the banners waving,
the men are weeping, over by the wall.
They are full of memories,
All the dead soldiers. The flags are flying, the pennants flowing,
...

meander, meander, where shall it go
across the stream to the rocky flow
over the current, over the wave
over the crest to a watery grave will I follow it there, and then nevermore
...

The Best Poem Of Ruth Carey

A Time Past

I grew up in Riverdale. IN the 1930's. Caves and woods. Warm spring days, long summer
evenings, crisp autumn, slanted sunlight. On the radio: "Jack Armstrong, the all-American boy!"
"This is CX-4, calling Control Tower.
Captain Midnight, coming in!"
"What evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows." The West Indians flew their miniature planes in
Van Cortlandt Park, Saturday and Sunday.
A far off hum. Late at night, if the wind
was right, you could heart the elevated trains
coming and going. The hum of the city was
approaching. I didn't know it then but soon
the city would be in, and I would be out. I live in New Jersey now, central New Jersey.
Senior citizen land. The elephant's graveyard.

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