I am sorry but due to some of the recent entries on the Tagboard from outside sources, I have decided to turn it off for now. Maybe at a latter time, I will turn it back on.

If you want to leave comments, please use the posts.

Thanks and again sorry I have to do this.

 

by W. C. Guthrie, March 15, 1944

Anzio, Italy

 

Loneliness

My pen runs on---in mad wild thoughts

Fate is having her bitter jest,

Mocking---and laughing--and grasping--

Lest---

I should break my bonds and be

Alone again--Calm and free

As the Birds above me--winging high

Up---Up---to the quiet and peaceful sky.

My boon companion----monotony!

Endless days and nights for me.

Time stands still---and---yet goes on

A new days here---and then it's gone!

Going on and on---IS there no end?

Gnawing Loneliness my only friend.

by W. C. Guthrie, April 5, 1944

Anzio Beachead, Italy

 

Will you love me when I'm Old?

And my hair has turned to grey,

And my joints are slow and creaking

And my manhoods past away?

When my pep and passions left me

And I'm just a shrunken frame

Creeping, moaning, grouching, groaning

Will you love me just the same?

When my rheumatism gets me

and my second childhood's here

And I drink my rot-gut freely

With my bare feet on a chair

If, with patience you can stand it

And a love for me retain

When you've grown so fat and sloppy

As a Queen to me you'll reign.

by W.C. Guthrie

enroute to Lubbock to be sworn in, Oct. 7, 1940

Thoughts of An Army Recruit

NOW I am gone from old friends and loved ones

Like a young bird, my weak wings to try,

With new scenes and new faces around me

We've parted with tears in our eyes.

As the old train rolls on its puffing way

I hear its whistle screaming through the night

Taking me to a new life to-morrow

after this things will never seem right.

Mother, it hurt me so to leave you

it broke your dear heart I know,

But forever in my heart I'll keep your image

As to a new life to-morrow I go.

May the Father see fit, That's in Heaven

For a new lease on life to me give.

Now dear God, Father of all please protect them

Give Dear Mother the strength to be brave

Give her knowledge that I always will love her

E'er till this old body rots in the grave.

 

 

June 1943 on board ship for No. Africa

(W.C. Guthrie collection)

 

The flower is faded, all crushed and torn

the tablet is water stained and worn.

It cost at most a five cent peice

But its value to me shall never cease.

The dogeared corners, dirty pages and all

From their place in my heart shall never fall.

To you who look its only a book.

A small tablet of paper so cheap

But its a token to me-from a loved one to keep.

A keepsake of love to compare with no other          

It came to me with Love from Mother.