Down in the Hollow

A little Halloween spookiness I originally posted about a year ago. 🙂

Down in the hollow

In the whispering breeze

Dark branches grip and grasp

Their knobby hands naked of leaves

Reaching and scratching

At the white stones below

The silent stones standing

Down in the hollow

 

Their cold, weathered faces

Peer out through the weeds

The brambles grown wild

Where paths no longer lead

Once names where there graven

But wind and rain leave few traces

Of the identities carved on

Their cold, weathered faces

 

No one now knows

Who beneath those stones lie

No flowery tokens are left

No tear in a remembering eye

Down in the hollow

Where the whispering breeze blows

Lie bones that once walked, who

No one now knows

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Good Old Days

The good old days
Simpler times
Innocent
Things, safer
People, more polite
When neighbors were friends
And everyone
Had a hand to lend

A myth
An illusion
There are no “good old days”
Nothing changes
We bemoan the loss
The theft
Of something remembered
Through the rose colored glasses
Of vanished childhood
As our parents did
And their parents before them
Every generation
Mourning a past
Simple and innocent

Those days were not
Simple and innocent
We were
As days and times do not change
We do
And mourn the loss
Of innocent selves

And children still play-
Though not the same as we
Once did-
Blissfully unaware
Of their own innocence
Until the day comes
When they, too, will look backwards
Through the blurry haze of growing up
And rue the loss
Of these
Good old days

Big Water

Water
“Water, water everywhere…”
In image after image
That’s what came home
Nestled in memories
Captured in my camera
The Ohio River
The Tennessee Valley
The sunny, crystalline turquoise
Of the Gulf of Mexico
Water
BIG water
To one who has lived
Forever within landlocked hills
Little rivers and tiny lakes
Dotted between
Forests and fields
Big water
Was a sight to behold
Unexperienced
Wow factor
Surprising myself when I returned home
Finding I’d filled rolls of film
With images
Of water

But that
Is what a trip is
An exploration
A discovery
What you’ve never seen
And never even realized was beyond
Your own experience

NaPoWriMo post #18 and manicdaily‘s “Trip” prompt for Poetics on dVerse …Wish I had some of the photos I took on that trip to post with this, but they are not on my computer.

Young Love, Old Friends

You held my heart
Beating in time to your laughter
When I was but a boy
And you the girl-next-door
I felt love for the first time
Blooming in those dry summer days
Beneath a hazy sky
When stars fell
And aurora beamed
And innocence played games in the street

Time has gone
Leaving childhood days
Misty in the rearview mirror
Memories
Some faded, some embellished
But when we cross paths
In life’s twisting surreal maze
We smile
And say “Remember when…?”

The days of innocence are past
But they still remain
Tucked safely in the heart
Where young love
Becomes old friends

NaPoWriMo 2013 post #10

To Kurt

19 years ago
Of all places
In a music store, I stood
My weekly ritual
Browsing cds and cassettes
When a man walked in
Approached the store owner at the counter
“Did you hear about Kurt Cobain?
Did you hear
He’s dead?”

Those words
Hurt
Like a kick in the balls
An icy chill
Spreading across my chest

“Yeah.  It’s a shame.  Such a waste.”
The owner responded
As I left
No longer in any mood
To browse cds

That night
In the shadow of my hero’s image
Posters like blood
Hanging on my bedroom walls
My brothers and I
Listening to that scratchy growl
The voice that spoke to us
Raising our beers
(Though only I was of age)
Offering the toast
We would offer again and again
In years to come

“To Kurt”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76N_8A816KQ

NaPoWriMo 2013 post #9 and dVerse Open Link Night #91

 

Shiny New Memories

He came home from his trip
Eyes full of shiny new memories
My son
With a week’s worth of stories
Days at the beach
And historic sights
In Washingtion D.C.
Laughing as he told me
How he and his cousin found
They could reach their arms
Through the tall black fence
To pluck blades of the greenest grass
From the White House lawn
“You should have brought some home!”  I laughed
What a memento that would be!
Carefully saved
Within a scrapbook
To forever remember
The look of those
Shiny new memories
In his eyes

NaPoWriMo 2013 post #7

Growing Up

At ten years old
I didn’t know
How to drive a car
Or balance a checkbook
Or that love isn’t always forever

At twenty years old
I didn’t know
How to balance a job
With going to college
Or what I wanted to do with my life

At thirty years old
I didn’t know
How to look beyond myself
Or that I was letting
My marriage slowly slip away

At forty years old
All that I know
Is that growing up
Like growing older
Is a process that never ends

 

For Stuart McPherson’s “Growing Up” prompt on dVerse.