Monthly Archives: January 2020

Hero

A scene of old develops and sharpens.
It’s the start of some chapter
in a boy’s learning.

This memory is of being ten.
It has cold misty rains at a train station.
The buying of a ticket
with nickels and quarters and wide eyes.

He is going to see El Cid in Montreal
by himself, with given permission,
maybe implied good riddance,
and certainly a flight to something
contrived, but noble.

It’s a way to forestall fear for the future.
To puzzle out why close people fight
and bury the fallout;
to feel the budding of self-assurance
and, finally, to admire a hero
whom all would love and despair.

Yes, he wanted to be
someone’s hero.

Cubbyhole

There’s a place of peace and rest, I think.
In daydreams there are hints.
But lost they are in just a wink,
and leave no fingerprints.

My valley is of rolling green,
with castles in the mist,
and starry glitter nightly seen
as by the heavens kissed.

At torment’s end, forgiveness.
Release from worldly cares.
A pardon’s leave to live in this-
a rarity of airs.

Though just a dream, I hold it fast,
abandoning it never.
In days of present, future, past,
it holds me close, forever.

.. folding ..

Sonja Benskin Mesher's avatarsonja benskin mesher

Hello,

I thought I had no nice paper, and then remember this.

It, it made a satisfying noise on folding. One imagines that it will be used on radio plays.

I am older than you, born on the south coast of England, then relocated to Wales  some years ago.

A small family who now lives nearby, to include my  grandson.. I do, indeed, live in a cottage, they do say over 500 years old. Can you imagine the history?

It is cold today; some villages have snow, so we are tucked in by the fire, dog in her basket, all big eyes.

The cat has moved down from where she sleeps on tissue paper, has her back to the fire.

Mine is a longer story, some of it unfolding here. I spends days working, playing, some days teaching, and some in other paid dutiful employment. I enjoy what I do.

View original post 1,279 more words

My Man

hunch up those shoulders
carry that hollow barrel chest
on spindly trembling legs
practice your ghostly motions
stare obscenely out of eyes like yellowed olives
your gates are closed for good
and i stand
holding you up
listening to disconnected mutter
while you piss black tar
dribbling onto the floor
and you say “I’m sorry”
my man
oh my man
there’s a hole in my heart.

Silver bells

And the man said
“Well, it’s time to clear the driveway now.”

And Heart said
“I will go along.”

And the man said
“Let’s grab that big plastic scoop.
It runs like a sleigh, and carries a lot.”

And Hands said
“Don’t knuckle under”

And Knees said
“Don’t buckle under”

And the man said, breathing hard,
“It is good to be out here.
Even with the cold. Even with the work.
It makes me feel, you know, somehow worthy.
It will be good for someone.”

And Coyote said
“Yes.”

And Heart said
“Take a break.”

And Lungs said
“Yes.”

Now Bob (the cat) had been playing
under the Christmas tree,
and was covered in ribbons and bells and needles,
and, before you knew it, had run clean out the back door.

And man, finally having finished, leaned upon his shovel
to survey the smoothness of his work.
And Coyote woo wooed his approval,
and the bells on Bob’s tail rang.

And Brain, well SHE said
“The tea is ready, sweetheart. Bedtime soon. Bob will be back.”

***

Image from Pinterest