Fifty years ago,
we wore bridal veils.
Walked past the elders’
with a cursory but loving nod.
Then family reunions,
joyful raucous gatherings
at the twenty
and thirty-something’s table.
Then babies appeared on hips,
high chairs crowded table seatings,
crayons joined forks and spoons
and the elders watched lovingly.
teenagers rolled their eyes,
talked about whatever they do,
made lists for Santa’s exchange.
Someone tried to reproduce
Auntie Maia’s meringue cookies.
Papa Milt’s son took over
his carving-the-turkey role.
uncles and aunts
disappeared from the scene.
And now, tomorrow,
we gather again,
a new generation
gracing a bridal veil.
And just for a moment I see their faces.
who instilled love of family,
no matter the distance or age.
we walk into the room,
smile knowingly and take our seats.
We now, are the elders’ table.
Another poem by my 10 year old granddaughter, Stella Hallberg.
Led roughly to the gates
forced in by my jockey,
I’m pawing moist earth
waiting for an opening
in this prison.
Photo in public domain at Pixabay.com
Glaciers shed ice tears.
Care ye not for the children to come?
Listen to the sound of wailing winds
as earth reels in shock
and oceans rise in bewilderment.
Why hast you forsaken me?
Photos from our Alaska trip. Glaciers cracking and melting: global warming and climate change cannot be denied. June 1, 2017: the U.S., under one man’s decision, retreats from its global responsibility.
** A clerihew is a comical biographic verse. See full explanation below photos.
All the ladies admired the young Houdini,
but wished he performed in a thong bikini.
Their screams take it off created a racket
as he hung upside down in a confining strait jacket.
Rip Van Winkle slept away the years,
escaped his wife’s nagging and too-often tears.
Thought he’d be a ladie’s man, a new phenomenon,
instead he limped beside the dames, testosterone gone.
Written for dVerse, a poet’s pub, where today Gayle asks us to write a Clerihew: a comic verse on biographical topics consisting of 2 couplets and an aabb rhyme scheme. The first line is to name the individual. Form invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at age sixteen. Very challenging to write humorous poetry!!! Pub officially opens at 3 PM Boston time…drop by and read some more of these — or try your hand at comical verse and share yours with other dVerse readers!
Hanks of yarn wound into balls,
worked inch by inch into comforting garb.
Orb turned over and over,
lengths of colors pulled and stretched.
Fingers weave and eyes watch carefully
as a painstakingly beautiful pattern appears.
Would that love be so carefully wrought
upon this orb we call home.
In the quiet spaces
there is hope.
Like tall city buildings
raising their heads above the fog,
we can rise above the mire
lift our faces to the sun
and dare to make it so.
Photo taken flying into Chicago last month.
Last night with you,
there were no eyes.
Touch consumed bodies
and life exploded
as we loved.
Your cardiac arrest
like a lifetime –
until it wasn’t.
Shrinking I am, walls closing in on me
head in a vise. Eight by ten, five by
seven, four by six, wallet size. A
postage stamp stuck on some
old godforsaken envelope
thrown out. Unneeded,
Your old cameo. I’m
a person with pain.
To you, nothing.
I am a void.
Am I a
my heart knows your eyes
blue iris sway in dry breeze
wilting like your love