An exceptional poem leaves an imprint on the reader. My college professor read this poem to the class, and after many years, I still remember it—vividly.
When I started teaching, I had language arts/history blocks. I used poetry to supplement the American history text, loving how we could learn about the past through a poet’s perspective.
“The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner”
by Randall Jarrell
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Jarrell wrote, “A ball turret was a plexiglass sphere set into the belly of a B-17 or B-24 bomber and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short, small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine-guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with canon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose.”
Daily Response: Is there a poem from school that you still remember vividly? If so, please share it in your comments.
Kimberly Blackadar 
Hello Randall, your vivid and visual poem reminds me of the movie “Memphis Bell”, a fine movie without the reality of your special and poignant poem.