poem – Page 48 – Press Send Poetry

the chair

Even at 80 mph
I knew what the chair used to be:

green cushions with white buttons
it sat on a patch of astroturf
in a screened-in porch.
Faced a small glass table where
ice tea was served and fresh tomatoes were stored.
And in winter,
its cushions were stored and it sat bare-chested
braving winds that fluttered its
white thick-strapped spine.

Spring cleaning meant
cobwebs were removed
and the chair was bathed on the deck
with soapy water the kids
sprayed on each other.
The cushions were fluffed, tied gently back on for
another lazy season.

Until one strap broke.
The kids moved out, and
when there was a sale at Sears, the chair
was left to face west on I-95, naked
to the elements
and the drivers hurrying home from work.

to langston hughes

i did not choose this path
the path chose me
the dirt chose my
black barefoot feet
to cling to
i had no choice but to
dig in
and when the river rose
with a muddy swirling torrent
i had no choice
but to go.

girl says

girl says:
“don’t worry!!!”
emphatic, confident,
exasperated.

girl knows!
she is grown.

parents know
these assurances
are trouble.

high heel shoes

high heel shoes
scattered across my floor,
I used to hate that height
but now I buy them
taller taller…

I like the feeling of
a head held high
I am who you imagine
on this new road
you see me
walking tall,
hips swaying,
lips glossy,

yet it fades when I return
empty the suitcase, scatter
heels across the floor…

late night city gossip

Here on our Patterson hill
see the lights of downtown
pulsing,

the men with knives and guns
the sporadic sirens
all demanding,
the streetlight orange rowhomes
the white marble stoops
all conspiring.

The hound dog neighbor (Hannah)
wailing,
she’s heard all about me,
these city streets,
their brick cobblestone cement,
whipersing,
the gossip never ends.

[ps: found this little poem in an old journal, circa 2006 or so]

the pacific northwest (and a haiku to Mt Rainier)

i have returned full of Chinook salmon and pictures of mountains…. that Mt Rainier~ captured my imagination like none other (except perhaps Denali, but i don’t think i truly appreciated it then). so happy and can’t wait to return someday….

timber trucks whipser
legends of a mountain top
so serene and blue

capped white she rises
older than my brittle bones
prouder than Tatoosh.

happy mother’s day~ "a mother’s heart"

Happy Mother’s Day~ spent a lovely weekend with my family and am so thankful for my mamma. She is the bestest!! A poem from my great-grandmother Alice that is especially appropriate. Shows that some things never change…. [taken from her book of poetry The Fruit Thereon]

A Mother’s Heart
A mother’s heart is tuned to listen for
The groping sound of hands upon a door —
The midnight striking of the mantel clock —
The turning of a key within the lock.

A mother knows when waiting hours are past
And each loved one is safe at home at last.

Travels in Europe, 12 days by Coach (haiku)

talk of days before
as if lifetimes ago but
i’m still on the bus.

[NOTE: my cousin and i did the whirlwind American-style tour of Europe~ 8 countries in 12 days… the kind of bus tour that all Europeans make fun of. i was reminded of this when talking with a German friend the other night who, currently living here in the States, now understands why we do these fly-by-the-night breeze-throughs of Europe; we don’t get enough vacation time to do it any other way!! and let’s face it, when you have limited time, you want to see as much as possible. anyways, the feeling on our coach bus was like the scene out the window~ days blurred past us faster than we could dare process, yet somehow we were always back on the bus….]