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- Posts: 61
- Joined: Wed Oct 25, 2006 7:25 pm
- First Name: Roy
- Last Name: Bowen
- Crew?: Both
- Which Years on Board: 1967-1971
- Special Crew?: Neither
- Rate: EM2(SS/DV)
I started this poem on the flight over to Holy Loc to relieve the Gold crew. This was sometime in March of 1968. It was my first patrol cycle.
There was a lot going on that year in the way of protests. The Vietnam War was cranking up big time, and there were protests against nuclear powered vessels entering ports. Scotland was no exception.
I could not understand the changes that were happening all around me. It was separating me from what I thought were good friends. Men that I saw as brave and patriotic were being ridiculed by people I thought I knew.
I think the confusion of that time comes out in this poem. I have tried to edit it several times, but I finally realized that I would be unable to make any sense of the events of the time nor my emotions. So here it is......Step back with me in time to 1968. Was this your poem as well???
Let me ask you,
What is happening?
I look around and feel lost;
It seems everything was suddenly tossed
And landed out of place.
People just follow the crowd these days,
Ignoring their own will;
They are pulled into an endless maze
Without an effort to stand still.
What’s really happening?
Look around you, this isn’t a race;
Yet it seems so from the deadly pace.
What’s the hurry anyway?
Does anyone know what’s going on?
© August 2013 Roy Mack Bowen
1967-1970 blue crew April 1970-1971 gold crew