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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Homeward Bound

The road is long to my old Virginia home

but sunlight shines the way

and I recognize clear skies and

empty roads, and I can

watch the tall trees sway.

It looks like home just there

where the road rises and dips

with its artistic flare, and

where honeysuckle scents the air.

I am homeward bound  

and I am almost home.

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Favorite Country Fence

I made another stop to look around

and there were pictures to be found

of country charm, forgotten lanes,

 mountain vistas in nature’s frames,

wild flowers and abandoned fences,

and gates on rusted hinges.

Green Mtn View

Rusty Charm

 

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I have just returned from a trip down “memory lane” with my friend, Kate of CoffeeKatBlog who wrote Things About My Youth.

We sort of grew up during the same era and many of Kate’s memories are mine.

Her funny, delightful post reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago about a girl in a photograph.

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the spark of youth

dressed for a prom in a silken gown

with a faraway look of hope?

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the faraway dream,

dressed in her best to celebrate?

I think she may have been me.

I remember that dress in the photograph

and the boy who was just as scared,

that soft starry night of the senior prom,

I remember the night clear and fair.

But who is that girl in the photograph?

She seems someone else I once knew,

the child I was, growing up and out

in a world that was changing too.

And onward time marched in quick-step

When a different boy called her wife

while the glowing girl in the photograph

stayed young and full of life.

The seasons passed and the years ticked on

while the picture stayed the same,

through challenges of work and home

and a son making Mom her name.

Running and running the years went by.

Now a grandma looks to the past

at an image of hope for an unknown life –

the young girl in the photograph.

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20160215_180533

A chalk drawing of a little girl

always hung in a living room space.

She’s all grown up now of course,

but it still holds an honored place.

The little girl was me before

 and hangs again on our living room wall,

a reminder of who I once was growing up

and who I am still, after all.

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I thought that Autumn came and went

as winter spread its clenching hand
Blue Ridge Autumn Best

but Indian summer lingered

 

Remember

leaving love notes upon the land.

Vacated Bluebird House

I am here.  Please don’t forget me.  I am here.

FallFoliageFenceline

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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WeepnWilow2

Mine is not a favorite flower, but a tree

much like a graceful waterfall

casting shade in a veil of green,

growing tall and swaying in the wind –

the magestic Weeping Willow .

Weeping Willow Best

Weeping Wllw side

 

 

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I am saving the crayon colors of summer

for the show is bound to end soon

in favor of Fall’s great performers

en route with a harvest moon.

Zinnias + (640x480)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Lingering Pink Cloud

A pink cloud in an otherwise ordinary sky

escapes the mundane white on blue,

floating, floating aimlessly by

 displaying its gossamer baby pink hue.

A feather drifting softly through space,

  a lingering apparition,

floating away to dissipate 

  and return to imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

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On the Way Again Weekly Photo Challenge

Old New Truck

Did this old truck look so bright

when Grandpa bought it new?

If only gears could spin her tales

of journeys long and true.

Did she make a great grand-stand

in years gone long ago,

sold and sold from hand to hand

for work and not for show?

And where’s she off to next I ask?

Another place to make folks smile,

a beautiful relic of the past

that keeps on truckin’ mile to mile.

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This is Photo Story #5 for the Five Photos, Five Stories challenge.  The rules are to post a photo a day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo.  It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph.  Oh yes,  and each day nominate another blogger for the challenge.  Today I nominate Debbie of The Mountain Kitchen, a place to learn a whole lot of wonderful things about food, delicous-ness, and mountain living.

Windowless

It is an odd thing,

a windowless view

of a landscape unseen

and a sky never blue,

of lovers inside

with an old lovers’ kiss

but no more to hide

of a sweet lovers’ tryst.

It is an odd thing,

a windowless view

From both inside and out.

This is my final submission for the Five Photos, Five Stories challenge.  In a way, it felt like cheating because two of the five were poems.  But I learned  from this exercise that poetry is my automatic first response to sights and sounds and photographs are particularly inspirational.  Thank you to those who followed along with my “stories” and thank you if you joined in on the fun. The results have been spectacular.

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