Graphite on Paper
the
moments hours years
flash before
me yet... in the rear view mirror hard to recall breakfast
or the thoughts of
last week writing helps creates a map
better than
breadcrumbs for marking the way home yes...i was lost
uneasy struggled
to stay on course i am beginning the third year
since you
left... passed... DIED
the word so hard to
use so hard to hear makes a tangle of every sentence
life has no effect
at all on death it will come on schedule
the day circled on the calendar marks the date the day unknown to us
but oh....death does effect life distorts all that you know
the day circled on the calendar marks the date the day unknown to us
but oh....death does effect life distorts all that you know
my life has been
altered... my sister came held my hand
said goodbye to
you... to me i remember going home
the flight to
denver flying above the earth the dark storm ahead
lightening flashed on the horizon a jagged line drawn by hand
the missed
connection no way to get home like you, all i wanted was to go home
after midnight all
night in the cold airport it was as if the universe was saying
you thought this
day bad and that is not all... there are still storms ahead
the future unknown
to me i wonder... would i have continued
if i had
known what was ahead would anyone
still....in the
quiet of morning the explosion remembered the howling splits the
silence
i cover my
ears count to three open my eyes
it is a new
day the sun is shining i can see no movement on the mesa
my life is less without you no food that satisfies i am left lonely
i draw the emptiness
of my life with a pencil graphite on paper
June 12, 2016
________________________________________
Aunt
Maggie's Farm
the
words familiar splattered on the page
read
what you wrote and indeed i see my words
are
out of date last week's news
it
is a mystery question without answer
i
am left wondering where you found these words
perhaps
in an old snuff tin with lithographed face
an
old man with scar on his chin or in the empty
butter churn
no
longer in use the stalls empty too
the
cows sold long ago no one lives there anymore
the
fruit trees in the orchard grow wild
lemons
fall to the ground rot aunt maggie's farm
only
reminds in memory the long chats on the porch
the
squeaks from the rocker rocking back and forth
on
long afternoons the windmill whirring
the
hot summer wind we dig out from the dust
that
piles by the barn smirk at the chickens
that
strut in the yard so proud of the eggs
pearly
white gathered in the basket
kept
by the door the trim farm remains
chiseled
in the memory of a little girl who often played there
Jane
12, 2016
Note: I went to the site, The Sunday Whirl, and found the words...I thought, though they looked familiar...the past few weeks I have not always found a place for the words in my writes. I worked hard and this week I used all the words. Then when I went to Elizabeth's site, I realized my words were out of date. I returned to the Sunday Whirl, and still the words were the same...so I took the words Elizabeth listed and wrote another piece? Still wondering? But it was fun to return to my Aunt's Farm where I used to play.
___________________________________________________
Note: I went to the site, The Sunday Whirl, and found the words...I thought, though they looked familiar...the past few weeks I have not always found a place for the words in my writes. I worked hard and this week I used all the words. Then when I went to Elizabeth's site, I realized my words were out of date. I returned to the Sunday Whirl, and still the words were the same...so I took the words Elizabeth listed and wrote another piece? Still wondering? But it was fun to return to my Aunt's Farm where I used to play.
___________________________________________________
Father's Day
i would like to send
a card to my father post office unknown
where do people go
when they die leave no forwarding address
if they are
somewhere what do they do how do they pass the time
is worry a part of
heaven or only left behind for others to do
he was always
busy and if he is somewhere i think he is busy still
he never said
no when asked for a favor ...except that one time
you
explained sounded so reasonable at the time
but things
change time changes everything one can speculate
about the after
life unknown until you experience it for yourself
a simple man no
pretense got right to the heart
no beatin' around
the bush so my card would be plain just the facts mam
i miss you
everyday your my daddy hold me tight
June 12, 2016
Note: I wish I could send a Father's Card to my Father....so this little poem will have to do.
6 comments:
Your poem is pioneering - the notion of graphite on the page and all the feeling that you have injected into that - so very hard and yet also so very beautiful
Annell what can I say...the first piece was how I felt when my dad died....I just took in the scenes as if they were playing on a screen...I was numb. And the Father's Day card just sent me bawling...I often just want to say hello and send a card to my daddy...thank you again for your beautiful honest words!
Your beautiful poem of loss drew me in, my friend. And then I enjoyed the visit to Aunt Maggie's farm, rocking on the porch. Your father sounds like a fine man. My grandpa was such a man, quiet, and did so much for others. I was most struck with what moved Jae - the graphite on paper, where the artist makes sense of her world.
That graphite on paper is so very important. You draw the need, then express it. I like your Aunt's farm. I also wish to send a Father's Day card, yours made me cry a bit. Thank you,
Elizabeth
Early words were provided by Elizabeth on Facebook but they never appeared on the Sunday Whirl site. My piece is still waiting. In your first poem I would say you "fill" the emptiness of your life following your sadness for it is surely therapeutic. I absolutely adored "Aunt Maggie's Farm".
deep thoughts.
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