my brother’s poetry

Eddie Anderson Warfield

This photo was taken when Eddie lived in California and was in the marines.  He was born, August 13, 1945 in Ft. Worth, Texas, and he died Thursday, Feb. 26, 2004 in the Dallas VA hospital.  He married only once.  It was not a happy marriage.  In the poems that follow, Mary Ann is his wife, Alex his son, and Stef his stepdaughter.

Our Moment of Glory

The death we don’t want,
the acceptance we must take.
The moment of
“It won’t happen to me.”
The frustrating hope–
maybe longing for
an end we don’t know.
Now we are guessing that
it can’t be that bad.
Well, maybe sad.
Oh–Hell, it’s a blast.
Sown the seeds–
did anything take?
Has it made any difference?
Wish in one hand,
die in the other.
Lord, I’m coming or
Devil, it’s me.
I’ll see this through
to the bitter or perhaps happy end.
Let me be.

Eddie Warfield
June 11, 1990


We Got Family

It seems a long time ago
Love, Aspiration, Willingness, Need.
I remember showering the night
before we married.
I was afraid.  I was afraid of Stef.
Will she accept me?  What am I doing?
I’m 34 and where’s the door!
Mary Ann:  a whirlwind treat.
Everything moistens when I look at her.
The years go by, desires change,
heartstrings are pulled, some do not vibrate.
Some get broke.

Eddie Warfield
March 16, 1992

Talk About Your Kids

Strange enough, used to take about girls, dates,
how easy this one or that one was
or more like, “play-like,” how this one was or  wasn’t.
Shit man, I’m 40, almost–got two kids–
Alex is 4, Stefani is 9.
Talk about your kids–

I used to always cry and moan
about the loves or whatever
(change of heart) (now that I’m “older”)
all the chicks I used to go out with.
Apparently, I was along for the ride–
Talk about your kids–

Well, that’s life for you:
Probably the single most misunderstood
statement of all.
Does the doctor ever tell you
that you have an incurable disease?
You have 6 months to live?
Talk about your kids!

Hell, if I lived with the devil for
4 or 5 years I’d probably love him too!
Well, maybe–
Talk about your kids.

I used to think
I would want no kids
just to carry the name
but now I got ‘em and well–
I don’t feel the same–

I have felt my mortality:
a fear of life lost too soon,
a fear that I don’t want to see again
and the kids take a nap at noon.

They say growing older
makes a person more conservative–
I guess I can talk about my kids
and hope I don’t get more older.
I helped Stef with her spelling today,
and it seems strange that I would say
Have a nice day, they’re getting shorter.

Eddie Warfield
May 14, 1985