I Seek The Praise Of Ordinary Men
I wrote this attached poem on Friday, April 13, 2007, after interviewing Mike Hecht, the 88-year-old man who wrote the forward to my first book.
There was a line in the last part of my description of Mike that seemed to vibrate. I thought about what it meant, what I really was trying to express and that line became the title of the poem.
Maybe anti-Bush or people in the anti-war movement can make useof it. Just a thought,
The Titanic sunk yesterday, 95 years ago, and Pres. Lincoln was shot, 142 years ago. I hope we all have better days then all those unfortunate people.
Today, beginning last night, is Yom HaShoah, or Holocaust Remembrance Day. Take a moment to think about it. Whether you are observant or not, whether you think about Judaism less than a minute a year, would have made no difference to Hitler. Who your grandparents or great-grandparents were, would be enough reason for the Nazis to kill you.
I think about that, and wonder what I would have done, if I were trapped in a situation like that, today.
What would you do today, if you knew then, what you know now? Maybe the poem will motivate you to action. I hope so.
Robert M. Katzman
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I Seek The Praise Of Ordinary Men
by Robert M. Katzman
I seek the praise
Of Ordinary Men
Whose lives I reveal
And then capture by pen
Men who slaughter cows
Who farm and cut trees
Men who suffer pain
In theirs backs, in their knees
Carpenters, Cops
Women who teach
People who protest
And march in the streets
Slaves to computers
Men who pour steel
Sentenced to their lives
And there is no appeal
Oil-stained Mechanics
With grease on their hands
Printers and Plumbers
Now, where are their fans?
Smoke-eating Firemen
God fearing people
Rabbis and Mosques
A Temple, a Steeple
Citizens who vote
For ‘promise-making’ men
Though they’ve been lied to
Again and again
Men who plant trees
Electricians and Nurses
Wistful Mothers in stores
With no cash in their purses
Cowboys, Truck Drivers
Railroad ticket-punchers
Artists and Writers
Quiet souls who crunch numbers
I write stories of hope
Screams of outrages
Real people, real lives
Who come alive on my pages
Stories about anger
People cruel or wise
Not just about my life
Because I hear the cries
Of the children whose fathers
Were sent off to war
Who can’t comprehend
What they’re fighting for
I hear you, I see you
I feel your frustration
With our country derailed
With our misguided Nation
Every person matters
Though poor, with no power
A Man’s not more precious
Because his name’s on a Tower
I write about hope
Revenge and satisfaction
I urge you to resist
To become Men of Action
So I write with a passion
Again and again
Because I want to get it right
For all you “Ordinary Men”
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© Friday, April 13 2007