I recollect we played with paper
Dolls beneath the branches of
Our grandfathers’ hydrangea bush
Not knowing of the sorrows we
Would face along with many joys.

You lost a brother to pneumonia
While serving in the Vietnam War
And then were left a teenager
With a defective infant
Who after all did well enough.

And after many happy years
With a good man found yourself
Alone, confused and wandering
On a cold and snowy night
Towards a merciful pneumonia.

Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – July 18, 2022
hosted by Dan Tappan

• On a Summer Evening
• My Grandfather’s House

Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on November 15, 2021

• hosted by Dan Tappan
• Eclipse Moment (A Sonnet For Sarah and Mark)
• Cold Weather Friends

Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – November 1, 2021

• hosted by Dan Tappan
• All Hallow’s Day
• Buyer Beware

Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 18, 2021.

• hosted by Dan Tappan
• White Mountain Art
• A Show Of Colors (Autumn 2016)
• On October 12th

Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 4, 2021

• Dan Tappan host
• A Recollection
• My Grandfather’s House

My husband was a small town Indiana boy

Who heard the lonely whistle of the train

Just down the street and watched the glowworms

Dance above the seas of cornfields lapping

At his door.  The eldest son, at the age of twelve

He drove a tractor on his uncle’s farm.

In the village school his father was the principal.

His mother put small stitches into quilts

And watered African violets with her tears.

Chickens, bees and gardens fed them for the year

Along with fallen fruit and Uncle Paul’s

Pork and goat milk.  Nothing went to waste.

So when a research scientist, he built a woodland

House, cleared trails and planted raised-bed 

Gardens fertilized by red worm-generated compost.

Gardens and chickens were carried on by his son

An engineer who felt the family heritage was worth

Preserving and perhaps even passing on.

At the age of twelve, why did I

Decide it was time to be baptized?

In our church, full immersion was the rite.

I never experienced an epiphany,

No inner voices spoke to me,

My nights were calm: no vision dreams.

It was a fairly embarrassing sight

To be draped in a tent-like gown of white:

A dunked and dripping young acolyte.

But it seemed like a step toward maturity,

Like a high school diploma, a college degree:

An escape from parental authority.

My daughter has carved a stout hiking staff

For me to carry along Elysian trails.

She thinks that on that journey I will have

A need to warn sky bears to stay away.

We carried bear sticks once in Glacier Park

And bear bells tinkled merrily as we walked

Back when the ice fields still were white and hard.

That they would disappear we never thought.

The river of time runs either slow or fast

Depending on the season and the flood.

How much I’d give to live again the past

And I’d not change it even if I could.

(A Sonnet for Mark and Sarah)

We watched the moon consume the sun,

Its ebony circle slowly dim

The light, but darkness did not come

Until the black blot reached the rim

Where only a halo of shine leaked out

And pale pink bled on every horizon.

It was then we felt the fearsome clout

Of nothingness to put our eyes on:

No crickets chirped, the birds were still.

All energy, spirit seemed to leave us.

Our batteries were drained of will

Luna, moon goddess, of life bereaved us.

How we all cheered when light returned.

The sun our gratitude had earned.

We saw what it was to labor with love

Everywhere his hands had worked.

He girded us with cedar logs

And sheltered us with sturdy trusses.

He paved a path around the pond

And cleared a loop trail through the brush.

Hie gardens fed us healthy food.

Colorful blooms were harmonious.

Patient, quiet, steadfast and good,

A listener whom we could trust,

At ease in the role of fatherhood,

Not the type to make a fuss,

He was taken from us all too soon.

How we wish he were still with us.

]]> https://bevtappan.net/2017/05/10/riverwoods-poems-in-memorium/feed/ 1 1872 https://bevtappan.net/2017/03/13/riverwoods-poems-choices/ https://bevtappan.net/2017/03/13/riverwoods-poems-choices/#comments Mon, 13 Mar 2017 14:26:17 +0000 https://bevpoems.wordpress.com/?p=1812 CHOICES

The wintry wind whipped at our cheeks

Teared our eyes and misted our glasses.

Before the end of the driveway we meekly

Turned in submission to its lashes.

It’s no day to venture onto the slopes:

Lifts won’t run be running in these blasts.

So much for our high school senior’s hopes

Of trying the Notch’s challenge at last.

Instead we head for the nearest mall

Load up on soda, popcorn and nachos

And find a film agreeable to all

Where the weather is less ferocious.

Sometimes it’s better not to try

Against all odds to do or die.

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