Each month, write a new collection.
So this is the wild west Molly says. It’s moister than I thoughtAnd what about all these deer? Where are the horses?I don’t know I say as we perambulate the prairieWatch one enormous owl take wing then land on a branchIt’s odd how we both write about the country but areReally city people. She nods and lifts her skirts to avoidThe tall grasses. Why did you stop working at the universityAnd why don’t you use the honorific Doctor? I shrug thoseThings seemed less meaningful. She looks at her watch — theGreen one she wears pinned to her dress. We fought for suchThings you know — we couldn’t vote. Had no birth control --Still she says, stretching her arms to the sky. The air was betterThe food tasted, cleaner. She points at the deer. You’ll have toProtect all this better now. That’s your challenge. You’ll have toLearn not to conquer the earth but work with it. We link arms.I believe you can. You will. Molly’s small like her daughter, myGrandmother. I’m taller than both of them. Taller than my daughter too. She reads my mind. But how big are you on the inside? That’s the question. I walk with her and try to feel spacious.A deer lies in the shadow of a hedge. Waiting on two fawns.
Love this poem! Love it! I love the discussion of tallness a the end.
There is so much packed in here ... my favorite line, "I walk with her and try to feel spacious" It says so much
ÆllaI stand before an ancient kingA tyrantA murdererMy blood, hisHe looks on me with confusionThis womanSo strangeSo very weakI say, "Did you really seize York?"He replies"I didAnd even more.""Did you kill your own brother for the throne?""It's possible,the historiesswallowed my lineage.""And you died by The Blood Eagle?""Sadly yes.My bonesmy lungsGifts for Odin."He raises a brow, looks me up and downMy clothesMy faceHe is confusedHe says, "How dare you speak so freely to a king!I'm royalYou're not This cannot be.""Many things have changed since the 5th century," I say,"We're freeand equals.We are Americans."Unmoved, Ælla slowly fades back into historyToo soonWithout fearWe'll meet again
A great journey!
I love the poem, and the history too. I love the way you play with line breaks too. Very effective!
The wind is my ancestor I hear it rolling like a great wave over Joshua trees and petroglyphscharging like a ghostherd of bonesuntil it engulfs my camp now settling to graze on the moment and swallow me alone with dreams of the futureheld in the balanceI am not afraid under the blinding moonThe wind is my ancestorThe desert is my home
That's fantastic! Wow, that's really great.
Two CharliesGrandpa Thomasflush withmoney fromhis inheritancestarted the bankin little Buffalo Kansaswith his Uncle Charliefinanced thefarming co-opbuilt theMason LodgeThey wererobbed twicein the twentiesand lost it allin the crashAll Grandpa hadleft was hisdignity
I thought of this before I heard the video, so I had to write it also.I already wrote on in conversation with an ancestor, but I wrote one to this Grandfather's Father (see below).
This is a great poem man! Well done! Love that last stanza!
Yea, his integrity carried to the work ethic of all my cousins (all 35 or so of us).
Generation Gap with grandpaMy sakes, you turned out just like your dadYou know I loved youI was chiding you about How your cocoa was cowgirl coffeegrowing up as you wrestled with getting upearly in the morning, it down right made mechuckle, remember, I used to call it cowgirl coffee, and the way I would put one of my fistsout in front of me, tight as a rock and you wouldget all tuckered out just a bumping up against it?I was a tough guy in my day, mostly stubbornI remember breaking up you and your sister fromfighting just with the sight of me flying out the doorwith my barbers razor belt in my handYou have it so easy nowI remember making your dad pick out his ownswitch from the branches out on the elm treeMake it too small and I would go pick it for himRule of thumb they called itNo bigger than your thumb and it was legalBut now my anti horse thief days are over These days everyone gets rightsWomen, children, and the likeRace, religion and creedOur only creed back in my dads daywas a gun in your holsterMakes you a man quickAnd you and your walk for, what?Peace on earthWell, la di da, you better find peace within you, that's the only peace you'llever need, but, I guess you got a pointWith all the guns on the looseDarn near out of controlA tragedy we can't do something about allThe N.R.A. rights and the amendmentpropaganda There is a way thoughHere's a little tipSpeak gently and don't fear your neighborI mean, don't let your fear control youThis world here is too fast and wildWilder than the West ever was even with its lawlessnesssome folks talk as if its a battle fieldor a war zone like we need more of thoseMind if you don't get caught, that is shotBut you don't need to defend yourselfUnless youare a hot shot like meyou see most people don't knowguns kill peoplePeople like you dodging bulletsand the military, don't get me startedLet's just say the world has changedsince I was aroundWe didn't need protectingWe were of love You know them gunslingersLike Jesse and Pretty boyThey were downright good ol' boysright friendly and respectfulI just don't know about all the warsnow, I guess my best advice to youWas to just find your own peaceand you'll do just fine
I love the monologue, man. You really capture him.
this is a great piece. Makes him out to be someone you want to know.
John Conklin ThomasSo you’re my Great-Grandpa YepI’m your oldest grandson’s second son I seeMy name is Thomas Of course it isMy first name is Thomas Good choiceI’m here to work Hmph, day’s almost doneIt’s 9:00 AM Time for Breakfast. Be back in ten minutes. Eat well we have many hours leftI’m back, what now? Here’s a post hole digger we need a fence from here to the hill every five feet 2 foot deepthat’s a half mile barely a quarter, should be done by lunch, here’s some leather gloves, bandages, and salve for your blisters for your lady hands.I stare at him as he walks to the barn
Blogspot won't take my formatting, oh well.
Man, John Thomas was a tough guy!
Just like my Dad (named after his grandfather). Farmer's are tough. Both were soldiers also.
When my dad put me to workHe called it play, didn't wantto get in the way of that Sun.sabbath with resting I guessPlayed all the time with him
Love that Daryl!!
I'd recognize you anywhereYou add cream before the teaTalk to people who aren't thereNeed to be alone to thinkWant to dream and want to readLike other people want to breatheSee the plant in every seed.Want to own just what you need.Love one man and see the worldAs a place to learn to beFeel every moment as a prayerAn echo of divinity.I'd recognize you anywhereParasols and paisley printsLavender and blue and greenChinese lanterns, chocolate mintsScarves that billow in the windChunky jewelry from a fairPaper flowers, gypsy skirtsI'd recognize you anywhere.