Sisters..

Grace at  dversepoets.com  has us writing about ancestors in our family today; I had
 a desire to write about my mother and aunt, sisters from the 20's through the 90's ..



They grew up on 14th Street
5 blocks from bustling downtown/
Portland's park blocks, rose gardens,
president's on horseback in
statuary bronze
Through my childhood eyes I saw
homeless on benches, pigeons,
kicked leaves and ate ice cream cones 
Much as my mother and aunt did,
a generation ago

Margaret, my mother, 
had an inquiring mind; 
My  Aunt Jean, was the
brave mother of 3 boys
Sisters for 20 years 
before I came along
Their history together 
meant shared dreams/secrets, 
a strange elderly neighbor 
like one Miss Havisham 
I slept in their old room 
with tall windows, 
decorated with blue/violet 
hydrangea drapes and wallpaper; 
we played with Margaret and Jean's
dolls and wind up music boxes, 
the vintage brush and mirror

There was a step stool to reach 
the bathroom sink; a soft rug
to step on by the claw foot tub
The old house with high ceilings
echoed their voices,
piano practice/ laughter 
and screams
They listened to baseball on
the radio,
read and studied hard 
I remember a copper toned
 spaniel with long ears, sad eyes
 - Kim was her name
The kitchen was a good size;
 Grandma packed sack lunches,
roast beef sandwiches, soup
She added fruit and cookies,
a thermos of hot chocolate,
Grandpa took the bus to
the pharmaceutical company,
newspaper under his arm

I remember backyard sprinklers, 
lilacs tall, roller skates with a key/
simmering oatmeal on the gas stove,
I imagine the same scenes 
while they were growing  up,
 buggies and streetcars in the street
old model T's -
The brown turkey baking,
scent of freshly mowed grass
(we watched the blades turn 'round)
We helped pull clothes through the wringer
of the old washing machine, 
hung them out to dry on
 the taut clothesline
As youngsters we stayed many times
in that house where they grew up -
where nothing much had changed
(except the addition of
 a box called TV)
Next door were the gas 
and fire stations/
sirens in the night

Attractive and well mannered,
both held jobs, went to college,
They could have gone far 
with their talents -
They could have worked as waitress,
but were fortunate and
 married well;
 they stayed home, raised families
Careers then for women were rare..
they were lucky gals
Heaven knows they guided us well, 
taught us values and how to 
be strong, standing firm, 
as nurse, scout leader, 
friend in times of need,
 cheerleader of little league

Never again will I see such a pair,
Wholesome gals, honest and true
They had nice legs to boot,
 so wore swimming suits well -
relished life with confidence
Sources of unconditional love, 
ready to laugh or sacrifice 
Their voices sounded much alike,
perfect teeth when they smiled
Similar in appearances, 
they cared for one another,
yet their demeanor distinct 
They learned from their grandmothers, 
 pioneers who crossed the prairie,
propensities for art and sewing
Born in the 20's, 
they lived through depression/ war, 
valued the dollar,
cried for FDR

I was the eldest of 4,
my cousins were 3..
now many more in the family tree
In 1975, we lost one sister;
Jean cried for my Mom
In a Columbus Day storm, 
wind took the roof off my aunts family home
Margaret had empathy for Jean
Soon after becoming grandmothers,
their lives cut shorter than most//
started smoking in college,
which was common;
they stopped too late, of course
 Now, their great grandchildren bear 
their traits, grins, and eyes -
immortality in one sense 
But forever they will be
together in our hearts as sisters //
God's testament to giving and grace,
important keys in our lives....
                          

What's goin' on?...

My contribution to the Sunday Swirl, today June 8, 2014:

Muffled sound of a Marvin Gaye song,
Gun pops as one's existence ends
We hear whispers, the language of love
But the power shifted back again
Whether stomping on the asphalt yard,
or beating the streets in Washington,
the fight for civil rights 
 - still not won
Summer sidewalks sizzled 
in the heat of the day;
black power rose
 to the pulpit at night
Large numbers of demonstrators
marched in place
Said "Hello, world, look at us! -
we are all together one single human race"

Broken bells..

Today  at dversepoets.com    Brian asks us what we think and feel about words and language.  For me there were two ways to go with this.  One was foreign languages but I chose the following.



Without words,
 we do not know -
that she feels she is part
of the last snow,
driven to obscurity;
her wick melted 
in a duo of pewter holders
In her night clothes,
she sinks into evening
as it folds it's shutters                                                                                                      
Nothing else to do but fade
into the dark night
Without words, 
she cannot tell of 
diamonds glinting
wickedly, temptingly,
from the earths walls,
or of words appearing as
yellow amber stones,
 fallen from mountaintops
 to her feet, timelessly 
Without words connected to
the last supper of hope,
some have perished in their search..
.some as a result of those found words.
This annoys her and makes her sad;
for somewhere, lost in the rubble, 
fear appears;
books shed their bindings,
all meaning is lost
Newly written words ache to replace 
those tattered and torn,
written in and of others' tales,
and stubborn untruths
Some could not have cared less
about a rainbow waiting,
a dream spun
Why write 
for something unattainable,
that never really existed
no point
Without words
freedom of speech is in danger
or already forgotten and put away;
why stick around to gather
sticky residue
 or for something to decay?
She knew that, 
without words,
there are no small smiles,
 no surprises,
or lumps in the throat;
 only numbness of body and tongue, 
fatigue, exist
One wants to know where
 the mirth went,                                 wasn't it here just yesterday?

Without words,
especially the best chosen,
life winds down and
fulfillment is an impossibility
"Who is the old woman
 in the mirror,"
she writes, "she wasn't here before?"
Questions needed to be asked,
letters needed to be written -
 long before her house
had been given away
 to strangers
"Who's coming to dinner....
 how many in attendance?"
The mountain climbed,
and mined,
she had swum up the river
and back again- she
does not want to depend,                              
 or pretend or hope too much

With right words found,
 one is free;
words written, spoken
 and played with
now become enough,
the prized achievement
of a lifetime -
to satisfy anyone with authority
or to those who lead her astray,
 to an empty well,
 She knew there was insufficient time
as she stepped through the debris,
crunching twigs
Tears drained the silt 
from her memory,
leaving clarity
Without words, there is no story
or no meaning -
 as if  colorless flowers
line a garden path,
 or like a pinwheel, 
 empty of wind from the north;
like the bells she had collected,
sitting still and broken
 beside her -
Words mean everything


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Legacy

Smoothness
of polished rocks-  
cool rain on my ruddy face -
Cold shoulders once given me,
now warmed by
kindled friendships
Sitting comfortably in my window,
blue. pink, and violet
Bachelor Buttons,
 in a Ball jar
New light breathed inside
trickles into my deepest recesses;
 pockets overflow with
miracles minuscule
I'm not heavy,
meandering trails before me,
 of multiple tantalizing forks;
Red winged black birds
warble from the watchtower-
harbingers of gladness to come that 
guard my keep
 Whereas,
 seeds I sowed years ago
madly craved all of me,
now I salute them
in their glory,
in spite of chains
that kept me;
and I ask them
to please forgive
me                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Maya and Joseph on a date...

Today at  dversepoets.com  Bjorn has us writing  haibun, which begins with prose and closes with a short poem that has a definite impact on the subject matter or haiku.  I chose to write about two people I greatly admire.




First, a quote from the esteemed Joseph Campbell, writer and scholar -

“Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer.” 
― Joseph Campbell





Prose I wrote this morning paraphrasing a lot of what this man says -

As testament to the newly born soul,
contrary to Western way  of thinking,

we have no further to look than ourselves

for answers to the riddles of all time

To the world we bring innocent pleasure;

as we grow we learn conniving and bitter traits

If one looks to myths of time,

we see commonalities unmistakably

resurrected repeatedly.

They in turn point to countless treasures within our being

These gifts are clues for reasons we exist,

and define our meaning; ultimately

we are to give them viability,

breath, express their beauty and variety,

their good

Our challenge is to use all resources

for the sole artful expression of life

through love.

We do this to give meaning to the world

Next, a short poem I wrote for all of us dreamers about the two of them together-

Maya and Joseph, icons of our time,
join each other in  heaven to dine
Compliments all around on each other's work
Her smile is wide as she enjoys dessert
Illuminating their conversation,
topic of modes of living all over the earth -
Memeing away long hours with stories 
many of us have never heard
Their hearts whole and giving,
their minds full of knowledge;
I'd like to drink in all the information,
hide behind a hedge
I can imagine it happening sometime soon,
somewhere over a rainbow,
clicking their wine glasses 
and donned in....halos 



And my haiku -

Spirits united
T'would be grand to know the way
Follow their footprints


Quote of Maya Angelou -
"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song."

 _Maya Angelou

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        ..,.




HOPEFPULLY IN STYLE, CLASS, AN;D GRACE?dversepoets.com

Tea and the clouds...

Sparked imagination- 
antennae up,
feeling for pernicious signs,
clues to the weather 
Will clouds be white, 
grey, cotton candy or a
penny- copper color?
Large ones hanging like curtains,
in funny car shapes- 
She put tea and muffins 
on a small table, with 2
small chairs 

Continually changing 
clouds, manifestations of 
animals or persona 
Would it be Jesus,
the messiah she read about,
that steps from behind the
parting clouds doors,
appearing not in recent 
epochal time, 
to speak in allegory 
of our greedy ways?
...maybe Mr. Rogers,
or a granny 

A stained glass chime 
tinkling,
she saw shadows dancing 
on  luminous 
white porcelain plates
in the sun;
more than mere shapes
 of billowing toys
or formations 
of dogs and sheep
even spheres and orbs
She sees through the prisms of her eyes 
from where she lay on her back,
in the cool grass- 
looking up 

Vitiligo-  like clouds 
filled in the forever blue with
familiar warmth,
 a gradual
shifting of the guard
Clouds gathered
 in an artful display 
and suddenly appears 
a giant-sized, kind, 
gentle face...
She invited him to sit beside her....
and
.......he held her hand...
drank her tea- 
and worshipped her small kisses 






The prompt today, to use the following. 12 words in a poem:    messiah,luminous,plate, shadow , persona, epochal, pernicious,  allegory, vitiglio , warmth, door, glass.  My PC has crashed so am painstakingly using my cell phone.  I'll try to get all posts read but comments will be brief or have to wait...hope for sun.
 thanks.

Lifelong friends...

Karin at dversepoets.com       asks us to write slant poems today; also called
 half rhymes, there are words that sound alike but don't quite rhyme for a bit of surprise 
or variety.  Yeats was a master.



Lifelong friends found their way 
to my doorstep recently

We had lost track for more than a decade, 
familiar faces, voices dear

Touching again that special place

tucked inside my heart

since we first met in '68,
and their old pickup decked out
 with zebra art,
 black and white striped paint

Young marrieds with babies,
sharing walks with strollers to the zoo;

 and time passed after we moved away
Some Christmas cards in the mail,
then, suddenly, a wedding or two 

Now no longer in our prime,
now we laugh, talk and cry
a tear or two
It's humbling when lives cross again; 

guess it's true what's said of time 

So if your thoughts can travel 
through the wind across space,

 conscious desires can be channeled -
 soon to arrive at your gate

 

The nature of things...

dversepoets.com
Kelvin and Victoria have introduced his own poetry form,  Tilus, (macro poetry) which is divided into two parts: the first part is composed of two lines following a 6-3 syllable count; the second part, a one-syllable word to close and/or complete the subject layered in the first part NS must contain 10 in overall syllable count. The main focus is the world of nature but I added a couple of fun ones as well.  My contributions:






Eagle overhead, wish

I could "swoosh!",

too

Secluded in hedges,

grape swallow -

safe

Ubiquitous poems

of moonlight -

love

Green solar collector

spongy cells -

fronds

T'was an open and shut 
case of clams -

steamed