grandfather could take bits of cloth, a needle, thread and with magicly gnarled fingers create a garment fit for royalty, to be worn by the old woman living in the walkup down the street.
I take words
bits of ideas and hope, and with manicured fingers create what I can only hope passes for poetry to be ignored by those living nearby in my suburb.
aging, Family, Humanist, language, literature, mind, Photography, Poem, psychology, Women, writing
You more easily remember
the birth of a grandchild than his or her parent
whether from a memory
sharpened by age or regular sleep
or by a vision
more acute for knowing what to look for,
or simply a clinging
tightly to any symbol of youth denied you.
It may be as well
that grandchildren see you differently than parents
a hope for a long life
and the possibility of one day being old
or someone whose mind
more closely resembles in innocence and simplicity
or simply as adults
whose rules can be ignored with no real consequence.
One morning last week I decided
to plant myself at a busy intersection and begin reading poetry, mostly my own, I have to admit.
I was generally ignored, my usual
state, and that sadly of most poets, when a scruffy, bearded young man set up easel and paint next to me.
The morning seemed to relish
the stillness of this urban way station, and we were easily ignored by the odd pedestrian on her way to please not here.
As lunch hour approached, the streets
filled, and we were ready, this was our moment, our world, until the asylum escapee joined our duality
and preached loudly to those who
dared not avoid us, that the end was nigh, and that we, artist and poet were the living promise of heaven and hell.
The night closes in
chasing the sun, dragging
heavily laden clouds that stare
down, watching warily for us
to step outside without glancing skyward.
Clouds of night are particularly jealous,
most often ignored if not
completely forgotten, unsure which
would be worse, ultimately indifferent.
As we begin the walk to the car
the clouds open, a torrential reminder
that Mother Nature
will not be easily ignored.