My husband's poetry

Category: childhood

  • an old friend

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    All night I dreamed of an old friend who lived across the back yard fence and moved away in ’65’ we talked of old times and how we landed in our now we talked about his sister, mother and father we talked of how home is no longer home he talked of going to the…

  • Reedy’s mirror

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    coffee with a friend Moon River rhymes with Spoon River free verse anthology about dead people restless adolescents weren’t ready are we ready now? tobacco jaundiced time portal walks by on stranger’s finger tips you couldn’t or wouldn’t sit quiet so dad held twitchy hands tight in pew two lifetimes later – right hand holds…

  • Mama, Sing me a lullaby

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    4 am alpha wave music 432hz try to heal broken parts sleep can’t fix 6 am blueberries with oat meal and ground flax, try to flush the crap I need to let go 8 am walk in the park morning prayers try to create a quiet space outside of time 10 am go to the…

  • Empathy #19

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    In deep shadows empathy may fade Fractured world, in hues of gray, Lost echoes of choices made Tear-streaked nights, where dreams decayed, Heart’s whisper becomes a bray In deep shadows empathy may fade Mirrored in souls, reflections betrayed, The tapestry of kindness starts to fray, Lost echoes of choices made Yet in silence, a spark…

  • Dessicated dreams

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    mother’s unused canning jars sit on shelves in the garage dried fire flies in some it does not matter if it was a sibling or I who tried to capture light and forgot to let it loose before we were called inside it only matters that mother allowed us to use her precious canning jars…

  • 1950s cold autumn rain

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    black foldover buckles on yellow raincoat wear your hood or you’ll catch a cold black galoshes – tuck in your pants keeps them dry when you splash in puddles take it all off in the cloak room so they dry before noon rush home for lunch and Popeye on TV black foldover buckles…start all over,…

  • Autumn

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    dry leaves beneath my feet sound like home “Albert, rake those leaves before you go anywhere.” 10-26-23

  • Hippocampus ears

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    wood glows in the fire pit up and down the street as they prepare to dream neighbors’ lights go on and off lone oak leaf lands on my shoulder I hear my father’s voice say get up and go to bed 10-25-23

  • Vertigo in a crowded room

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    gyroscopic mud ball spins on its axis, revolves around a star whirling out from its galaxy core giddy toddler pirouettes in the living room, spins until they fall in laughter upon the floor 10-5-23

  • The reader

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Because I read the King James version of the Bible, I learned the misogyny of Paul could imitate the truth and sound beautiful on the tongue. Because I read Peter Matthiessen, I learned the truth is hidden in the narrative. Because I read Homer, I learned every hero has an Achilles heel and a dog…