And the word is...

I was in the woods
where I carved a door
with my persistent entering.
The Wrens were mating,
calling like piccolos.
I stared at the moon
caught in a treetop,
like a paper plate, or an old balloon.

When the Whitetail deer bolted,
you appeared and I knew
I was dreaming, because you
wore your perfect smile,
and sang all the arias of the world,
with your cadence of selfish lamentation.
Over your body the armor of sexuality
pulled like a magnet, but I had become
the substance of a feather. You touched me,
what is it you asked and I turned away.
It was then I noticed the trees receding below me —
It was then I saw the stars fading into blackness.

Memories #3

I decorated my life with a sprig of white heather,
a pinecone, nautilus shell.
One by one I embraced the memories
as I placed them on my bookshelf.
There was a collection of rocks from all over the world,
a skull; a wineglass filled with Mojave sand;
some shells I discovered in a tidal pool in Hawaii,
and an eagle feather from a Medicine Man.
There was a collection of magazines from back in the forties,
(Doc Savage, The Avenger, The Shadow);
a faded old picture of mama and dad.
(The mirror says I look like him now!)
Now, millions of people might call it all “junk”,
and trash it all come cleaning day;
but there’s a tear in my eyes as I softly and tenderly
visit my memories today…

Dale Harris
© 5/7/00

^^^ Oh, I like this one very much, Pen. The ol' "grocery list" format. Hard to do well, but you've done it beautifully. Thanks!

Edna

I heard my Mother’s voice
As I talked to my children
Something I swore
Would never happen
But I found comfort in it

I hear my Mother’s voice
As I listen my daughters
Talk to their children
I find comfort
Knowing her wisdom
And her love lives on in them

...beautiful poems fire, pen, granny....herz my memory...

fishin
emptying the bottle
he drank the drink
running down his chin
erasing memories
too heavy to hold

a collection of frames
his past lost life
looking back
he trembles and cries

his family sitting in
the second row pew
listening to stirring songs
filled with the spirit
cleansing his soul

holding the hand
of his loving young son
anticipating the fish
they'd soon catch

son and father
sitting by the river
poles in hand
quietly creating memories
too young to remember

everything changed
it's a different life
without him his heart
gave way

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Granny5

Edna

I heard my Mother’s voice
As I talked to my children
Something I swore
Would never happen
But I found comfort in it

I hear my Mother’s voice
As I listen my daughters
Talk to their children
I find comfort
Knowing her wisdom
And her love lives on in them

---

Granny, this is lovely and so true.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Granny5

Edna

I heard my Mother’s voice
As I talked to my children
Something I swore
Would never happen
But I found comfort in it

I hear my Mother’s voice
As I listen my daughters
Talk to their children
I find comfort
Knowing her wisdom
And her love lives on in them

---

This was heartwarming, Granny. You very nicely summed up how much we inherit. My GrandMother's name was Edna Thirtyacre.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by firefangled

This was heartwarming, Granny. You very nicely summed up how much we inherit. My GrandMother's name was Edna Thirtyacre.

---

We don't hear Edna much any longer. Your Grandmother Edna must have been American Indian. What tribe?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Granny5

We don't hear Edna much any longer. Your Grandmother Edna must have been American Indian. What tribe?

---

Her maiden name was Edna Aurthur. Her father was Friend Aurthur, a Quaker whose lineage I've so far traced to the 12th century in Sweden...go figure.

Her mother's family is a real mystery. Ironically, Edna's first husband, my Grandfather's, father was full Cherokee and he lived to be 105. He was pruning a peach tree in his backyard and my Great Gradmother said he just sat down and died. That is how I want to go, pruning a peach tree.

One of my hobbies is tracing my ancestry through this great website, Ancestry.com. Their databases are incredible.

And since I am spilling my famiy trees guts here, my Grandfather (Edna's first husband above) was one of 24 children by 2 mothers. He became an auto mechanic, but they say his IQ was over 200. He was the smartest person I have ever personally known. The story of him has it that he wanted to be a surgeon and heal people, but he couldn't afford to go to school that long and support his family.

Finally (I bet you think twice next time you want to ask me a simple question, Granny :yawnb: :lol: ) Edna's second husband was a German named Fredrick Thirtyacre. We think when his mom and dad and he came over to America, they mispronounced him and the name stuck.

What else do you want to know? You, MH, Bailey, and Poppy have been so generous with your family information, I hope you don't mind me going on and on. Yours I've found very interesting.

These memory poems are like sharing parts of each other. I feel priviliaged to have had a glimpse into the lives of the people I share this forum with. Well-written poems from all! Littlewing, for you: http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...mKane/Fish.gif

Mourning Mist

He watched as he faded from her eyes,
That evanescent look of love,
That moist green mist of disbelief
as his words pressed against her pulsing throat
choking the life right out from under her,
His pallid smile saying, forgive me, as she
bravely fought and closed her eyes.

amp, October Sixth, TwoThousandSeven

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by ampoule

Mourning Mist

He watched as he faded from her eyes,
That evanescent look of love,
That moist green mist of disbelief
as his words pressed against her pulsing throat
choking the life right out from under her,
His pallid smile saying, forgive me, as she
bravely fought and closed her eyes.

amp, October Sixth, TwoThousandSeven

---

Amp, I like the title reference on this very clever. You have this continuity of images through all your poems like characters in a story, for instance, green and indigo.

This is the dream of the neon

face you use to look at me,

colors, then fade to black,

a recurring evanescence

through the blinds,

are you

there, green spelling

out your eyes,

yellow moving arrow hair,

red red red red lips

are you

kisses in the dark?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by firefangled

Her maiden name was Edna Aurthur. Her father was Friend Aurthur, a Quaker whose lineage I've so far traced to the 12th century in Sweden...go figure.

Her mother's family is a real mystery. Ironically, Edna's first husband, my Grandfather's, father was full Cherokee and he lived to be 105. He was pruning a peach tree in his backyard and my Great Gradmother said he just sat down and died. That is how I want to go, pruning a peach tree.

One of my hobbies is tracing my ancestry through this great website, Ancestry.com. Their databases are incredible.

And since I am spilling my famiy trees guts here, my Grandfather (Edna's first husband above) was one of 24 children by 2 mothers. He became an auto mechanic, but they say his IQ was over 200. He was the smartest person I have ever personally known. The story of him has it that he wanted to be a surgeon and heal people, but he couldn't afford to go to school that long and support his family.

Finally (I bet you think twice next time you want to ask me a simple question, Granny :yawnb: :lol: ) Edna's second husband was a German named Fredrick Thirtyacre. We think when his mom and dad and he came over to America, they mispronounced him and the name stuck.

What else do you want to know? You, MH, Bailey, and Poppy have been so generous with your family information, I hope you don't mind me going on and on. Yours I've found very interesting.

---

Hey Fire, I do genealogy also. I have my Dad's family back to the 15th century and one branch of my Mom's back that far also. My Mom's dad's father is a complete unknown. The court house in Independence Co appearantly burned and records were lost. He left his family when my grandpa was very young, then my grandpa died 6 months before my Mom was born. His (my grandpa) mother died when he was young and he was raised by his grandmother. We had always thought that he was an only child but I've recently found someone who has information that there were other children raised by the other grandparents. I love doing the research.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Granny5

Hey Fire, I do genealogy also. I have my Dad's family back to the 15th century and one branch of my Mom's back that far also. My Mom's dad's father is a complete unknown. The court house in Independence Co appearantly burned and records were lost. He left his family when my grandpa was very young, then my grandpa died 6 months before my Mom was born. His (my grandpa) mother died when he was young and he was raised by his grandmother. We had always thought that he was an only child but I've recently found someone who has information that there were other children raised by the other grandparents. I love doing the research.

---

I have to watch myself on the research, because it can get so time consuming. I'm glad you shared that Granny. I was thinking I had put everyone to sleep. Ask me what time it is and I'll tell you how the watch works. :lol: