Archive Page 2

Fishin’ Hole

I see the images as clear

as if yesterday

though I don’t remember much

from yesterday

My granddad took us

my brother and me

to a little fishing hole he knew

where there were sure to be fish

Our tackle – a cane pole

silk line, small hook

and a box or two of

tasty-looking worms

I saw the chuckle in

my brother’s eye

and was ready to learn

the science of the game

how to thread the worm

just so – to keep it on the hook

right away I felt a tug

and pulled to set the barb

my brother, excited,

wrapped his line around

an overhead branch, fish attached

we soon retrieved the three inch beauty

we filled a stringer with hand-sized

blue-green-gold bream

they flavored our afternoon

with pride

few afternoons since have

been spent so well

sharing fun and love

and a banquet of fish

Poor Choices

O, let America be America again –

The land that never has been yet –

And yet must be—          Langston Hughes

 

Children are foolish

to be born of parents

with no parenting skills

or the temerity

to be sick or malnourished

or to have nothing

and come to a land of plenty

or commit the crime

of darker skin, different tongue

as a nation proclaiming God

and rejecting His will

can we provide

for the least of these?

The Tower

As morning brightness

sparkles on water far below,

a tiny silver bird turns toward me,

grows into a screaming vulture

and shakes the tower

beneath my feet.

Orange  fingers reach through

cracks and holes,

seeking me,

hot breath against my back,

urging me along.

A young woman stands,

head pressed against the outside wall.

dread and pleading in her eyes.

She comes to me,

her fingers searching for mine.

I open them to her.

Seared by the inferno,

we spend a silent moment memorizing each other,

as dark tendrils search between us.

She swipes a fist at smudged tear trails.

Together,

we step to the window ledge.

Sharing one last glance,

our hands grip tightly.

We escape into cool, blue air.

Changin’ Times II

There was a time generations ago

when the frail held a special place

at the family table

 

            we wanted to love

 

There was a time generations ago

when we sat at Grandma Mary’s feet

and heard her stories

 

            we wanted to know

 

Now is a time of

bleach     bland food    walkers

blaring Fox News

 

            stored like teacups in a cupboard

A Choice

Along the way my life became

two entities

 

One touched me, hugged me close to him

the quiet, moody one

He soothed my ragged brow

felt torment in my day

said he could take it away

 

The louder, boisterous one

smiled and nodded as he heard my grief

Said he could bring me

one more day, one more chance

to find the way

 

I saw no hope with the louder one

one more day to struggle

one more chance to fail

I laid my head on the quiet shoulder

and let him take my hand

 

In remembrance of Robin Williams – We will miss him

Poem from “All of Me” by Hal C Clark

Hyphen

Carl Shakey married Becky Tree

became my parents

so I was

Chuck Shakey-Tree

 

a few months ago I married

the beautiful daughter of

George Dull and Brenda Axe

my new bride, Charly

told me today of our pending child

 

I ponder the burdensome name for a child

to learn to spell

Carl or Carla

Shakey-Tree-Dull-Axe

Poor Choices

O, let America be America again –

The land that never has been yet –

And yet must be—          Langston Hughes

 

Children are foolish

 

to be born of parents

with no parenting skills

 

or the temerity

to be sick or malnourished

 

or to have nothing

and come to a land of plenty

 

or commit the crime

of darker skin, different tongue

 

as a nation proclaiming God

and rejecting His will

 

can we provide

for the least of these?


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