April 29, 2019
Bev’s poetry turned to song – with Izzy Td
Category: Love Poems
Written from the heart
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: THOUGHTS IN WINTER
WINTRY THOUGHTS
I wish that once more we could walk
Across a wintry parking lot
And I could feel your ungloved hand.
We reveled in a northern land,
Planted our skis on snow-packed trails
And snow-shoe’d over hills and dales.
I wish we could be comrades again.
When pines with snowy mounds are bent
And ice shards crackle underfoot
And overhead a raven croaks
Then I imagine I can see
Your ski tracks up ahead of me.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE JACKET
THE JACKET
It hangs in the closet
A comfort to see
And helps me remember
His arms around me.
There’s a faint smell of campfires
In the soft fibrous wool.
He loved to chop kindling
When evenings were cool.
That brown checkered topper
I sometimes put on.
It feels like reliving
Sweet days that are gone.
I can see it ahead
On a cross-country trail
Or a snowshoeing path
On the old Battlefield.
I’ll never discard it,
His lumberman’s jacket.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: FAMILY REUNION
FAMILY REUNION
On the river bank
I look for you
Where the poplars bend
And our green canoe
Hangs under the eave
Of the little shed.
On the grassy heights
Of old battlefields
Where the purple knotweed
Now invades
I trace the trails
Where we once skied.
As your daughters voice
Old family songs
My heart responds:
I sing along.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: PLACEMENTS
PLACEMENTS
I’ve grown accustomed to this space
These two big rooms I shared with you
Where in the parking lot they face
I see compadres come and go.
We shared small places, you and I
Two-person tents on river banks
The back porch of a double-wide
Youth hostels where we flung our packs.
But we shared larger spaces too
The canyon’s depths, the river’s run
The prairie’s breadth, the ocean’s blue
The broad earth was our living room.
Now you have sought a distant star
While I am lightly tethered here.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: MOON MEMORIES
Moon Memories
How many moons did we gaze at
From that first one in Craftsbury’s skies
That shone on the cross-country ski trails,
Showed the love light in your eyes:
On the banks of the Allagash River,
At our tent in the Everglades,
In the Lake Huron island campsite
Where our food bag was rifled by bears,
At a midsummer fest in Denmark,
In Aruba’s phosphorescent sea
And Saint John’s coral reefs.
Tonight when I looked at the moon
I yearned for the days that are gone.
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TAMWORTH POEMS: PACING
PACING
On the first day of August I taste
My first ear of garden-fresh corn.
Not a single sweet kernel is wasted
And soon the whole earful is gone.
But with tears in my eyes I recall
A man who, perceptive and slow,
Savored each delicate morsel
As he nibbled his corn row by row.
He split measured logs for our stove,
Swung his ax in unhurried arcs
And moved our canoe with sure strokes
To reach our next campsite by dark.
Now as I hasten my days,
Willing the hours to pass,
I long for his deliberate pace
And the will not to live life so fast.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: REJUVENATION
REJUVENATION
Whenever you are near
Laughter rises up in me
Like sap in a maple tree.
Whenever you are here
Words tumble out of me
Like coins in a slot machine
When somebody hits the jackpot.
And though I know I ought
To avoid this beckoning eddy
And steer into calmer waters,
Bubbles rise in my champagne
And age no longer trammels me.
Old birds have leave to sing
However short their spring.
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RIVERWOODS POEMS: COLLAGE
COLLAGE
Pieces of our shared past
Drift softly in my mind,
Flutter like shaking aspen
Leaves in the autumn wind:
Otters on the French River,
Haleakala’s silver swords,
Sea anemones aquiver,
Beaver woodcutters at work,
Red spires in Bryce Canyon,
Deer on a frozen lake,
A herd of honking sea lions,
Phosphorescence in our wake.
Shifting images coalesce,
Merge in a misty scene:
Bright moments of our happiness
Weave in a fading dream.
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TAMWORTH POEMS: HANDS
HANDS
They all called him handsome,
But it was not his face
I loved, though he was comely,
And his smile could erase
Any hint of gloom
That ever lingered on
In any darkened room.
It was his hands I loved,
Strong and long-fingered,
Hands that gripped an axe
With purpose and affection
To cut our yearly firewood,
Hands that drew the hoe
Between the beans and cornstalks
And arrowed our canoe
Around the foaming rocks
To where we had to go
To reach our evening campsite,
Hands that pounded tent stakes
To secure us for the night,
Loving hands that gave me
Memories of sweet delight.
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TAMWORTH POEMS: SMOKE GETS IN MY EYES
SMOKE GETS IN MY EYES
How many campfires did you lay,
Birchbark, twigs and slender sticks,
To tempt the creeping tongue of flame
And feed its fiery appetite?
You learned to build the pyramid
With tinder arching over bark:
A single match would serve to wick
The pyre construed with boy scout art.
How many trees did you cut down
And split and stack for winter fuel
In the Franklin stove that kept us warm
And gave us cheerful hearts as well?
Now as I feed my grandson’s blaze
Constructed with his sage advice,
I think of your consistent ways
And feel the smoke tear up my eyes.
(July 2014) -
RIVERWOODS POEMS: OUR BLACKBERRY YEAR
OUR BLACKBERRY YEAR
One year the blackberry blooms
Burgeoned so fulsome and rank,
With the weight of their fragrant fruit
The bushes bowed and bent.
We picked our fingers black
And filled our freezer full,
Then had to refer to a book
On concocting blackberry cordial.
This potent purple brew,
The perfect campfire quaff,
We transported in our canoe
For a day’s end toast and laugh.