| "I had many things to write, but I will not with ink and pen write unto thee..." POETRYrepairs v07.09:097 |
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| VALERIE MACEWAN My Grandmother Waves to Dogs My grandmother talks to the garden hose, waves to dogs on front porches, and speaks to her dead friend Ethyl every night. My Aunt Lettie thinks the Lord disagrees with daylight savings time. And we lost my brother Jimmie John for three days last fall when he checked into the LeapFrog Motel instead of sitting on Daddy Bills deer stand in the rain. He bought six sets of electric trains set them up in inter-connecting rooms and hid out, scarfing down Simps Bar-B-Que and driving the trains. Daddy Bill moved the Fairlane down off the blocks in the front yard. Put tires on it, installed a new battery, started it right up and gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday. Now Laymon wants us to get married. The babys due in June, he wants to give it a name besides Cletus or Wayne. I want to graduate cosmetology school in June The Oxford English Dictionary defines REPAIR: Concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; resort, frequent or habitual going; making one's way; to arrive; to dwell; to heal, to cure, to recover; to renew; (AND!) to fix to original condition. In each sense, www.poetryrepairs.com |
| "Poetry endangers the established order in the soul." poetryREpairs v07.09:097 |
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VALERIE MACEWAN Ruth Poem Never alone, even with one place set, the past eats dinner with my mother. Vacancy, rooms to let, entertaining not strangers but angels in ten rooms reduced to four. Walking images of moments, non-events, replace the silence of my father's death, as a Glenn Miller lullaby sweeps softly from the corner... The caretaker learns to keep herself. |
| "Repair Your Mind...Read More Poetry!" poetryrePAIRs v07.09:097 |
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| VALERIE MACEWAN Flora Nell Remembers Slanted sunlight dimmed by live oaks, FloraNell remembers blackberry wine and children Singing victory songs while snatching hovering fireflies To serve as lanterns in Mason jars with pockholed lids In a stilled yard washed with sunset pinks. Ruth Ann strangles the stems of Queen Annes Lace And black-eyed Susans, pungent, dripping bouquets Pulled from behind the chicken coop to pay homage To this fine day, glorious yard, and her mother. The sweet smell of childhood sweat FloraNell remembers the summer earth in their skin And making melodies of names that danced in her mind She calls them close to her, porch sitter, and they stand. The yard is quiet, no more Ollie Ollie Oxen Free. She thinks of the three boys she lost one September. Less than five years old, damp curls clinging to their foreheads, Hot breaths shaking weightless bodies with raspy sounds. For leaving comes from these ten rooms FloraNell remembers the children on the porch upstairs, And knows Ruth Ann has a room for her, a safe place, Holding boxed memories while riding swiftly in a steel cocoon, Suspended in the motion of an August day, she looks. One last yard memory fades, and the voices dim with dusk, And the boys are gone, the circle comes round. Ruth Ann now the porch sitter when FloraNell sleeps. poetryREpairs.com seeks volunteer editors to expand poetryREpairs via "language specific" subdomains; for example: fr.poetryrepairs.us to create a network of truly 'Contemporary' and 'International' sites. If you are fluent in a language other than English and you wish to help, please edit a one or two poems; send the poems and a paragraph 'about you' to editor@poetryrepairs.zzn.com . |
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