Showing posts with label poems and prose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems and prose. Show all posts

Monday, July 8, 2013

What Price Progress?

I'm about a third of the way through my "Route 66 Ghost Towns" posts. It's time for me to start mixing in some written stuff and photos from other places we've been visiting.  My post today includes a few things relating to Route 66, but without photos.  Just about the time this post is up, we'll be on our way to our favorite mountain ridge for a couple of weeks. There is a fire in the area though and I hope we can get through. They gave it a name (The Chariot Fire), so it must be sizable.
------------------------------

Route 66
The story was the same for many towns in the south west 
The railroads needed water stops across the desert and built them
Route 66 and the National Trails Highway breathed life into them
John Steinbeck's Joad family memorialized them
Interstate 40 ripped the hearts out of them
-----------------------------

What Price Progress?
It's one thing to see
An old mining town
Fall into decay
After giving up
Her treasure
It's quite another
To see a place die
For no other reason
Than progress
--------------------------

Vapor Lock
I remember sitting in the back seat
of various old cars
the only air conditioning
was four windows down
at sixty mph
burlap desert bags
full of water
hanging in front of the radiator
hood slightly open for air
blistering heat 
threatening us
with vapor lock
and overheating
cactus, yucca, Joshua trees and rocks
mostly nothing though
except for the silence and solitude
of the desert
one arm out the window
flying my hand
like a plane in the hot wind
the only real relief
to be had
resided in the little towns 
and even smaller places
like Amboy
Cadiz
Chambless
Danby
Essex
Fenner
Goffs
and Needles




.







Monday, January 14, 2013

End of the World Again?


Last month
There was another "rapture" scheduled
(as our Jehovah Witness friends would say)
Or end of the world scenario
(as the Mayans never said)
Didn't it totally fizzle out?
Just like all the others
I'm not expecting another one
Anytime soon
I don't believe in the rapture
I did however, have a rupture once
It was very painful
But I didn't ascend to anywhere
Except to the hospital




.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

High Tea

Last week, one of my granddaughters asked me if there really was a Santa Claus. She said that most of her class doesn't believe in him. The kids who do believe, are made fun of. It all starts in elementary school. These things never change.

I remember sitting at the little table in my daughter's room while she served me pretend tea and food made of play dough. Too bad it all gets tarnished as they learn that life isn't perfect and then the little dishes and cups all end up in a cardboard box in the garage.   
----------------------

high tea

plastic cups and plates
high tea and cookies
in a little room
full of pretend
and make believe
it's all great fun
right up until the time
that life wears them down
and beats the wonderment
and innocence
out of them

that's how
cynics are made


.

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Ultimate Sacrifice

Rivers of Despair













Somewhere in the Kentucky hill country
Heartbreak flows through hidden valleys like a breeze
Sorrow falls from slate gray clouds in sheets
Rivers of despair cut soft stone deeply
Gentle crying lingers on the air like an echo

----------------------
An old post that had about 5 comments, two of which were mine.
The photo was from google and uncredited.

This was supposed to be a Weekend Reflections post, but I obviously did the wrong one!
Sorry about that!

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

I Remember the Night

A small break from photos. My written posts are starting to really back up and I need to start working them in.
----------------------------------------------------------

I Remember the Night

When Neil Armstrong quipped
"That's one small step for man"
"One giant leap for mankind"
I was crouched in a muddy ditch
In a steamy valley
In southeast asia
Trying not to get killed 
By small asian men
Who didn't give a crap
About the moon
Or Neil Armstrong

NASA photo


.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Una Fria, Por Favor

my old neighborhood
was once full of taverns
now it's full of vacant lots
and bars with spanish names
I don't begrudge the spanish names at all
I begrudge the fact that nobody in them
knows who I am

------------------------------------

I wrote this bit of gloom while in the middle of my Kauai blog post extravaganza. It didn't seen right to post it in the middle of all that happiness. It's not that I'm unhappy now either, but I'm sitting on top of a mountain, have an internet signal and can't think of a better time to post it...

.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Coffin Full of Hate

Coffin full of hate
Coffin full of emptiness
You lived your life as a crucible
They all feel pain for you now
But they don’t know
Who you really were
I was there
When your spirit left
I felt it fly away
It blew through me
Like an ice cold wind

Casket borne
Peaceful now
They line up
To take a glimpse
I view you not the same as them
For I knew your pitiful walnut heart
And even if I must conceal it
They won’t catch me crying
Softness for you?
It need not seek haven in my heart
There’s no place for it

You hid your face
From all but me
Projecting a facade
For them to see

You are no more to me now
Than I was to you then
Nothing...

------------
another very old one...

.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Rocky Marciano's Nose


An extremely bright and distant child
Quite distracted while in school
His name brought up in quiet tones
Over coffee in the lounge
Daily conversation with his teacher
A subterfuge to check him for his wounds
They cannot talk to his mother
She's wearing sunglasses in the rain
A beautiful woman she is
With Rocky Marciano's nose
The father a well respected man
A contradiction on the edge
The wild look in his eyes tells you
It's best to leave it alone
Father to father, son to son
Poisonous legacy of tragic secrets
What can anybody do?
His mother is wearing sunglasses in the rain


--------------
Yet another old one posted when I had very few followers and fewer comments. This poem is only autobiographical in the sense that there was a great deal of abuse in my childhood.  There was no father in the picture to dish it out. That was my mom's job...

.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Forgotten Promises

The days of your youth
Are as precious as jewels to me
For when you’ve grown and gone
I’ll know pain from your leaving
And sorrow from your being gone
Will you be strangers to me then?
And find me only when
I know who none of you are?
You promised as children
That you’d take me in
And reassured me when
I read to you
This poem
But you didn’t really know my mother
And what a burden I’ll be
Forgive me now
As I hold you so dearly
For this day will never come again
Each morning you waken anew
So I’ll hold you for now
Before you grow up
And forget your promises


--------
this is another poem posted in the early days of my blog. thanks to Tim and Betsy, who were the only two people to comment.

.
.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Yesterday's News


Rose petals
Baby's breath
Fallen from the trash
Lead crystal vase
Worthless treasure 
Laying on top of
Yesterday's news

My love lies in the alley
Ground into the pavement
By a trashman's boot

------------------------

I first posted this poem about 18 months ago when I had just a few followers. It received only two comments  (thanks Tim and Sarah)

.

Monday, February 14, 2011

When Hopeful Evening Takes The Day



From my mind's eye
I cannot chase
The soft gentle image
 Of that classic face
When hopeful evening
 Takes the day
Red brown hair
Catches moonlight
Every ray
Set reservations aside
Let fate rule tomorrow
Let me for a life time
Your sweet love borrow
--------------------
Happy Valentine's day my love...


--------------------------------------
Also, Happy Valentine's Day to all my lovely blogging friends out there!
This one is for you...



Monday, January 31, 2011

Ode to Rick Snow

Many years ago
In the back room
Of a nondescript
Downtown Long Beach
Second story walk-up
We are legless
Leaning on pillows
Scattered on a Persian rug
Water-pipe bubbling
Black light
Exploding colors
From Day-Glo posters
Twinkies and Orange Crush
Calling to us
Someone says
 "Rick, play that song!"
He laughs and says okay
For the fifth time that night
We listen to him play
And sing
"Here Comes the Sun"
All of us listening
All of us loving it
All of us with Chinese eyes


visit Rick Snow at REVERB NATION
click to hear (Brown Bottle Flu)



.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Reluctant Patient

Many of you already know that my mom was an insane and brutal woman. She didn't really allow us to have a childhood. As a result, my teenage and early adult years were a disaster; numerous clashes with the law, drug and alcohol abuse and fighting.  I’ve gone through a ton of counseling and done the best I could to deal with my issues. I ended up loving therapy and all it did for me, but I didn't feel that way in the beginning…
----------------------------------------------------------
Reluctant Patient

You can shove
That box of tissues
Where even
Freud can’t find it
I won’t need them
I’m only here
Because the court
Said I had to be
And now you want
To try and save
Something
That shouldn’t be
And try to reach
The child within me
Or so you say
As you sit there
Looking at me
Over the top
Of those ridiculous glasses
Almost at the tip
Of your nose
You want me to talk
About it
But all I can do
Is smell the
Pain and anger
Of a thousand people
Soaked up
By the Wallpaper
And feel the humidity
From the weeping
Of the last person
Who sat in this tattered
Second hand store chair
During the previous hour
That of course
Wasn’t an hour
But only 50 minutes


.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Warm Summer Rain

Eleven hooded men
Eerie in the glow of torches
Within their circle
A young black man kneels
Arms bound behind him
His bloody face a mask of terror
His grandfather, beside him
Wearing the face of Jesus
As he passively awaits his fate
The dripping southern night
About to snatch another bit
Of our humanity
Whipping now done
Twin nooses await
Warm summer rain
Tears of those
Who have gone before them


.MLK Martin Luther King

Monday, January 10, 2011

World on Fire

High atop the ridge line
Of hills to the east
We gaze anxiously westward
Waiting for the sun
To bend a knee
And take it's evening bow

On the far side of the hill
The ocean lies shimmering
Low clouds linger passively
Both awaiting their cue
To perform feats
Of reflective magic

Another minute or two
Before late afternoon
Jilts the day for evening
And sets the world on fire


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Gray Morning Light



This Morning it snowed
For the first time
Everything powdered with white
I’ll pull you close
Against the winter chill
And kiss your face
In the gray morning light



--------------------------------------------
Many people have made blog posts this week relating to cold weather. It doesn't snow at all where I live, so I had to pretend for this poem to make any sense as I wrote it. It's not much, but I'm in a snowy mood...

.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Where Clarity Remains


The Walk

The solitary old man
Finds himself
Retracing lover’s steps
In their old places
Lingering
Where they once 
Stood together
Tossing stale bread
To busy ducks
Nine years later
To the day
He dissolves in tears
With his sight unclear
He shrinks upon himself
To the one place
Where his memories
Are handled and stored
With special care
To the one place
Where clarity remains

Soon my love
He whispers
Soon...
-------------------------
Original artwork provided by Pam Tucker.
More of her fantastic art can be found at Pam T’s Art Loft.
 
 
 
 
 
.


.



Saturday, November 27, 2010

Magpie 42

One hundred yard dash
Ohio State Champ 1952
Now the trophy sits
On a dusty shelf
As tarnished
And brittle
As the legs
That carried him
On that day

 -------------------------------------
To see other entries relating to this photo promt go to Magpie #42


.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Happy Halloween

After dark
Halloween
Can't believe
Things I've seen
Scary faced goblins
Gremlins galore
Wolf men
Vampires
Knock at our door
Pirates
Princesses
Come into view
Best costumed one
Tomorrow night's stew

(photo: BWP)
.

Monday, October 25, 2010

A Mad Dog Chases Himself



A cold wind blows
A lone wolf howls
Somewhere in the woods
A mad dog chases himself
Snapping at his own bloody haunches
You approach through the fog
Alone and lost
Trying to find the trail again
Before full dark falls upon you
Aware only of the sound of your boots
Crunching through the snow
Your frantic breath hangs in the air
Like a frozen scream


.