.
I Hear the Distant Thunder
I hear the distant thunder rolling
__Across the nighttime sky.
Incendiary lightning strikes
__Of fire are drawing nigh.
If I can keep on writing, it
__May be by candlelight.
I must prepare for darkness black
__On this sad stormy night.
The heavy hail is hitting now
__Upon my window pane.
High winds are slashing, tossing heads
__About my fields of grain.
The country’s lost beneath the feet
__Of sudden bursting plunder
Led by savage militants
__Who tear our world asunder.
Forecasters try to warn you of
__The raining guillotine.
The brave outnumbered by the waves;
__Their candles never seen.
Who will be patriotic in
__Tumultuous turmoil?
Who will prevent this pouring blood
__By gangs on sacred soil?
The worst will soon be over as
__The vicious storm goes by.
My hail-stoned ice-filled road again
__By morning should be dry.
But when the worst is over,
__Will our defenders win,
How much must we rebuild of our
__Own country once again?
.
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LTC Roy E. Peterson, US Army Military Intelligence and Russian Foreign Area Officer (Retired) has published more than 5,000 poems in 78 of his 101 books. He has been an Army Attaché in Moscow, Commander of INF Portal Monitoring in Votkinsk, first US Foreign Commercial Officer in Vladivostok, Russia and Regional Manager in the Russian Far East for IBM. He holds a BA, Hardin-Simmons University (Political Science); MA, University of Arizona (Political Science); MA, University of Southern California (Int. Relations) and MBA University of Phoenix. He taught at the University of Arizona, Western New Mexico University, University of Maryland, Travel University and the University of Phoenix.
Thank you, Roy, for writing this poem. This storm you describe will be a a necessary conclusion to a present mess. Because of what you have seen in your travels you are more equipped than most to see what is coming. Your storm will clear the air.
Great comment, Sally. I fear the worst is still ahead but there always is hope the storm will clear the air and we can dig ourselves out of our mess.
Roy, you may have 78 books of poems, but I feel strongly that this one should appear in the very selective “Best of Roy Eugene Peterson.” The meter and flow are practically perfect, and that allows the reader to see subtle beauties like allusions to “America the Beautiful.” Shouldn’t your fields have amber waves of grain, and those feet be pilgrim feet instead of plundering ones? I see that the waves show up in the next stanza, overwhelming the brave. We can remember that “America the Beautiful” notices and prays for the spread of virtues still missing in national life, while you envision a tremendous battle to preserve whatever can be saved. Still, yours is not an ugly dystopian perspective, but one guardedly confident of victory, although looking forward to a gargantuan task of rebuilding. We also sense the darkness of conflict characteristic of “The Star Spangled Banner,” and hear a similar final question about whether the flag will still wave o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Many of their candles disapear from your view, but there seem to be at least a few patriots loyally at their post and available to assess the damage to “our own country” in the morning. Somber and realistic, but not a forecast of lasting gloom is this splendid work.
Margaret, after your tremendously insightful and tremendous comments I have decided to revise the last two lines as follows:
“The flickering flame of freedom
shall burst forth once again.”
This more accurately reflects the optimism I feel in my heart.
I approve this change with a question mark (?) concluding the line just above it. Maybe someone will make the change as specified on this SCP site.
Thank you for your precious thoughts and stimulation of my own.
The approaching storm will be for the history books, but who will be left to write or rewrite the history is questionable.
That is one task for the present poets to present the case.
This is a breathtaking poem, Roy — you extend the storm metaphor in a way that presents the threat to our country in very visceral terms, which are as intimate as your own window-pane and as general as an entire world torn asunder. I see America the Beautiful almost drowned by a demonically-driven wrath of almost biblical proportions. Your poem does not despair, however, even when the wind and hail are at their worst. Your advice to stay calm, focused and hopeful is implicit. Your speaker wonders how much rebuilding we will need to do once the tempest passes. A lot, I fear. But history is replete with societies that have had to rebuild after such storms as these.
Bless you for such insightful and special comments that reflect my fears and hopes for restoration. We must remain watchful in our words and decisive in our actions.
Great poem, I really like the layering of the imagery, and the juxtaposition with the Pearl Harbor photo. It reminds me of the 26th chapter of Isaiah: “Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.
For, behold, the LORD cometh out of his place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity: the earth also shall disclose her blood, and shall no more cover her slain.”
I believe we have reached this point in time now when the 7 thunders of Revelation 10: 3-4 are uttering their voices.
Those are wonderful references to the fate of those who have reaped the whirlwind. Thank you for sharing.
Some poems are frightening, and are meant to be so. LTC Peterson’s piece is upsetting, because it tells us of our current danger — of which we are well aware — but talks of the future in a tone that is uncertain and questioning. The photo from Pearl Harbor will freeze the blood of any American.
I always look forward to your excellent comments and I thank Evan for such a sobering photo that emphasizes the thought of the distant thunder.
Powerful Roy and very well written; on a separate note though: I think you should get out a new book immediately. I myself wouldn’t want to be trapped on 101!
Greatly appreciated, James. I need to change my brief bio numbers. My book, “Hearts and Clouds,” which I advertise on this site in the righthand column is my 85th book of poetry and 108th overall. I have completed sixty more poems out of my typical 100 poems per book planned for publication in August. Thank you for your prodding and saying it is “powerful.”
The metaphors “thunder,” “hail,” and “incendiary lightning” point towards something grave that is either about to befall or has already befallen the poet’s nation. The concluding lines beautifully sum it up and also leave two important questions for us to mull on: What will happen when the storm (the plunderers) is gone? How can the damages done be restored?
You have given us a very strong poem, Mr. Peterson. I think it can be applied to an individual’s life too, wherein the storm is his gruelling bad fate/ bad days. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Thank you so much, Shamik. I like the extension to the individual that you considered.
I can hear it too, Roy, but frequent reminders are never unhelpful.
Thank you, C.B. I agree.