|
|
Post by goldenmyst on Jun 10, 2023 13:56:31 GMT -6
Sister & Me
Crimson tressed child
Of the copper lamplight
trades first communion lily gown
For blue nurse evening shawl
With Red Cross and
Toy stethoscope
To hear the Jazz rhythm
Of my heart
But phonograph of Brubeck
Plays our song
For our pretend union
On altar of girlhood tears
That bears the loneliness
I too feel
While lost in boyhood dreams
Of seagulls chasing the night away
On neighborhood stoops
Where Django strums from guitars
Dawn comes with slow insistence
And we roam the lonely streets
In search of the grail
Far away from Mama’s silent vigil
Into the great ghetto of America
|
|
|
|
Post by Sugarmuser on Jun 11, 2023 14:56:24 GMT -6
Cute, a lovely look back on childhood interactions. I’ll be back later when I am feeling less dizzy. My head cold is not allowing me to focus. Very sweet John.
|
|
|
|
Post by goldenmyst on Jun 11, 2023 15:15:01 GMT -6
Sugar, wishing swift banishment to those viral interlopers my friend. I know how head colds can keep one from doing what one loves. Thank you for the lovely words on my poem. It chronicles my history with my sister at a time when all we had was each other so it seemed.
John
|
|
|
|
Post by augustsky on Jun 11, 2023 21:36:39 GMT -6
Nostalgia..so Endearing! Poet John,
I enjoyed reading.
Sky
|
|
|
|
Post by goldenmyst on Jun 11, 2023 22:26:28 GMT -6
Sky, thank you from my heart and soul. They were the best of times and the worst of times. But I don't regret a bit of it.
John
|
|
|
|
Post by Castle Court Jester on Jun 12, 2023 23:28:18 GMT -6
Deep emotive writing here John that truly reaches in to the heart and soul of the reader. Sounds like times of struggle and some turbulent times perhaps too where the two of you had each other to help you through though perhaps within the union shared there are/were some spots of loneliness and emptiness within all of that as well. This has a strong "voice" and personality of its own too. The spirit of the piece is impossible to not feel and even hear.
|
|
|
|
Post by goldenmyst on Jun 13, 2023 8:57:58 GMT -6
Michael, deep gratitude for really feeling this piece so deeply. Indeed you got it through and through. All we had was each other back on those lonely streets. Mom was upstairs depressed in bed and we roamed the streets having adventures and meeting the eccentric neighborhood people. This poem began with this image I remembered of her in the nurse's outfit. Then I developed from that image onward and ended with morning as we left to find hope on the streets. I truly appreciate you for really getting this poem. THank you my friend!
John
|
|
Everyone have a great weekend!!!!