My daughters want to be writers.  In talking about this along the way, I was asked who I thought were the best of the writers that I had come across in my life.  Well, I thought of course of all the classics I had read and how very hard that would be to choose among these masters of literature.

Then it dawned on me.  The best of what came and went and then spawned entire legacies of what a modern story might best look like might vary according on whom you asked.  But, for me?  Rod Serling and Alfred Hitchcock.  They were able to craft stories that live on long after them and capsulize these in 30 minutes or less.  Now, that’s some feat.

So, we have set out to watch The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents and to then discuss the little bit that I can share with them and the ideas that they have on it as well.  It’s sort of a multi-year fun project that so far has been a lot of smiles.  Then there’s the challenge thrown down at me.. my eldest wants in return for her attention to this.. for Daddy to write a poem based on every episode of The Twilight Zone.

I cannot promise that I live up to the high standards of Serling, but, a promise made is a promise and promises made are promises are best when they are meant and those we should always do our very best to keep.

Year 1, Episode 19:

The Purple Testament
by Michael Romani

In the pit of our stomachs
We feel our deep fears
Taken to the summit
Where hope gives way to tears
Such are the ways of war
When man gives all until there is no more

In the Philippines Islands, Nineteen Forty-Five
Brave American Forces fight to survive
Some omniscient painter mixes the colors well
Blended and matted into the fabric of this tale
In the province of conflict, these are the faces of war
Pushed to the edge, pushed on in fear, they could no more

Taking a battle worn helmet off of his head
The Lieutenant recites the names of the dead
A battle of courage is shared for its outlook
While the troops chow down the mess from the cook
Twelve wounded and four brothers in arms dead
All under twenty-one, that plays on in his head

In this good officer is a troubled sense of anticipation
He wishes to spell it out to avoid any misconception
One more drink as he flows through his paces
That look of death had shone in their faces
There was no doubt that somehow, some way
These four young men would end seeing their last day

A lack of sleep was attributed as cause this must be
To see death's mark written into each face's destiny
A certain light shone it's sad goodbye
Revealing again and again, just who would die
This is the knowledge no one wants to know
There's just no good way for this thing to go

To see death laid out is no blessing from God
This painful moment and all such are plainly odd
That strikes to the core of one man's heart-break
Adding up to something too unreasonable to take
The Lieutenant pleas which to see no more faces
As the Captain lines out further needed strategic places

The haunting shine glances off that Captain's face
And the Lieutenant begs him to avoid his final place
An argument made and lost leads to a final toast
In all the distressing moments, this might be the most
The Captain leaves behind photographs and his wedding ring
As he feels the truth of the warming leave its fatal sting

The loss of that good man so true, plain spoken yet witty
Lost to sniper fire counted as a toll of one and it's a pity
So much gone with a bullet; truth is shown that war stinks
While the Lieutenant wishes for several more strong drinks
Suddenly, in the mirror he sees that spectral shine
Lost in the resignation that now it's his life on the line

Rolling in the jeep back toward headquartered Division
The doubts they'll make it are more than suspicion
A mournful sound plays out on a soldier's harmonica
Seeming as sadly sweet in the moment as the Philiharmonia
He has come to open the purple testament of bleeding war
And for Lieutenant Fitzgerald, that testament is no more

(c) May 14, 2017  Michael Romani