Bev Tappan

Category: Riverwoods Poems

Poems from 2001

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: TOUCHSTONE

    TOUCHSTONE

    I was delighted to discover that

    The big blue-handled soup bowl

    With its fat sergeant major,

    Wavy kelp, squid and scallop

    Shell, was made in Kuaui.

    Dear Lynne: with all her household

    Goods she has endowed me and now

    She has willed me her son’s memento

    Of island bliss: the fierce Na Pali cliffs

    Over-watching white sand beaches,

    Bright-feathered Jungle Fowl

    Parading the streets, kayaking

    The Wilua River and then trekking

    In Tevas to the Sacred Falls,

    Dramatic over-looks in Waimea

    Canyon, admiring the green beans

    In the Kuaui Coffee Company groves

    And then sampling the sacred brew

    That even now recalls Hawaii.

     

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: HARD TO KEEP UP WITH

    HARD TO KEEP UP WITH

    They are so frighteningly bright,

    These cousins, gathered for a night

    Of school vacation at the house in Maine

    Around a Mexican Train dominos game

    To which they have been briefly introduced

    And all its rules have instantly deduced.

    Their ages range from eight to early teens.

    I, as a grandmother, am not so keen.

    They fidget at the time I take for thought,

    Remind me of some rule I have forgot.

    I must take time to calculate my moves,

    I am outrun by their unbridled youth.

    (February, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: TIME OUT

    TIME OUT

    What better than falling snow

    To cover yesterday’s scars,

    Make the clock run slow,

    And quiet our racing hearts

    Giving us leisure to pause,

    Permission to sit still,

    Cherish the chance to withdraw,

    Watch the curtain fall.

    In this welcome hiatus,

    Secure in a warm room,

    We can appreciate

    The morning’s several boons:

    Coffee, the morning news,

    A crossword puzzle nailed,

    An email from a friend,

    Tax papers finally mailed.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: A PLACE CAN BE A SOLACE

    A PLACE FOR US

    I have always looked to the hills,

    As the Good Book tells us,

    And I have been soothed

    By dipping my paddle into the still

    Waters surrounding our canoe.

    I have been awed by desert places:

    Zion, Mesa Verde and Arches,

    And under the ocean’s surface,

    From which our ancestors emerged,

    I have been mesmerized by squid

    And captivated by manta rays.

    We humans need our habitat.

    But corporations plunder our planet

    While we breed like flies,

    And scientists seek God in the light

    Of dark matter or the atom’s

    Ever more elusive heart.

    (FEBRUARY 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: LAMENT

    LAMENT

    Where and when did it begin,

    This call to me of the wild?

    Was it the chatter of tanagers

    Flitting in Amesbury pines

    Waking a six-year-old child,

    Or was it the dip and dip

    Of my parents’ canoe paddles

    In the Powow River north

    Of camp on Tuxbury Pond,

    Or when I looked up at trees

    And hooked my hand on the smooth

    Bark of birch and aspen

    As I struggled up Mt. Chocorua?

    Later I came to mourn

    The hurricane’s blast, the pines

    Strewn like tangled match sticks,

    The scarlet tanagers gone.

    Today as an octogenarian

    It drives me wild to see

    Our maples migrating to Canada,

    Our Great Bay rank with algy.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE ENDLESS QUEST

    THE ENDLESS QUEST

    (Thoughts on hearing Marcelo Gleiser, author of “Life in an Imperfect Universe”)

    Let us cease our fruitless search

    For a unified theory of the universe.

    The force that drives the stars away

    Drives our brief forms of energy

    To question, search, adapt, evolve:

    The mystery is not meant to be resolved.

    Perfection is a false and fatal lure:

    The wily fox outlived the dinosaur.

    The journey is not meant to have an end.

    There’s no one answer out there to be found.

    Natural selection steadily proceeds.

    Only that goes onward which succeeds.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: FIREWORKS

    FIREWORKS

    (On being asked what is the process of writing a poem)

    You’ve seen the Grand Finale

    Start with a single spark

    After which the sky goes dark.

    The pause feels interminable.

    And then another twinkle,

    Faint but unmistakable.

    The wait becomes more bearable:

    The pattern is predictable.

    A snapping, crackling crescendo

    Of stuttering gunfire sends

    Out strands of blinding light,

    Illuminates the looming night.

    Likewise can a poem be born:

    One spark ignites the dawn.

    (January 4, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: SNOW DAY

    SNOW DAY

    We welcome snow:

    Flakes falling slow,

    Concealing our tracks,

    Covering our backs.

    No place to go,

    No rows to hoe,

    The world’s gone white.

    We’re sitting tight.

    We hope it snows

    All day, all night.

    (January 2, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: EPIPHANY

    EPIPHANY

    Veiled by thickly falling snow,

    Winter robins come and go.

    From my window I can see

    Them flocking in the tall pear tree.

    Startled by the passing plow,

    Scattering in a frantic cloud,

    Flitting, fluttering, never still,

    They seldom pause to eat their fill.

    Off the roof a sudden gust

    Convinces them they’ve had enough.

    I wish them luck, I wish, “God Speed!”

    I hope they find sustaining seed.

    I’m glad I’ve had this chance to know

    Winter robins in the snow.

    (January 2, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION

    NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION

    I have to learn to sleep alone.

    With fleece sheets to keep me warm,

    Burrowing into my memory foam ,

    I do my best to sleep alone.

    Curled around his broader form

    I felt his heart beat like my own.

    Now I must learn to sleep alone.

    For all the lonely nights to come

    We must be two: I must be one.

    I have to learn to sleep alone.

    (January 1, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE LAST OF THE PEARS

    THE LAST OF THE PEARS

    The basket of pears you sent

    From Harry and David arrived

    On time on Christmas Eve.

    They’d tissued each perfect pear

    In festive and seasonal green,

    Beribboned and bedecked,

    But not yet ripe.  Each day

    I nuked a pair in raw sugar

    And rum,  and they were tasty.

    However, on New Year’s Eve

    The last of the pears called out to me,

    Blushing and chilling in the fridge.

    It yielded softly to the knife.

    Sweeter than sugar and more

    Intoxicating than rum, the juice

    Ran down my chin, and I thought,

    “What better way for an old year

    To end or for a new year to begin.”

    12/31/2013

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE LAST DANCE

    • THE LAST DANCE
    • When Death decides to come will he wear
    • A tall hat and twirl a cane
    • Like Fred Astaire? Will he ask me
    • To dance?  And will I dare to say yes,
    • Yes I’ve been waiting for you,
    • And will he waltz me into the sweet
    • Bye and bye down the primrose path
    • And into the wild blue yonder?  What
    • More could a girl ask, I wonder,
    • Than a final whirl into eternal light.
    • 12/29/2013