Poems from the Memory Bank

Challenge: A poem without a verb

cronelogical — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 08:19:04 +0000

memoir without verbs
a challenge

Snow
a crystal touch on a baby’s face
four feet of white across a frozen land
purple moon shadows under pines
diamonds on tree limbs in the morning sun
weapons for school boys
walls in the school yard
my tracks across a field and those of a hare
a hundred telephone poles along my way to school
After deep winter’s darkness
spring lake
and summer field
acres of riches
the black earth
dust
dust
and yellow harvest
combines
tiny harvest mice
The table full:
potatoes, pumpkin, corn, beans , cabbage, strawberries, saskatoons, blue berries,
raspberries, choke cherries, pincherries, cranberries, carrots, turnips six inches across, bitter horseradish, beets.
Time for the fall supper
November snow

Summer Orchids

cronelogical — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 07:50:43 +0000

Waiting for spring

tiny summer orchids

brighten

my memory

Many Layered

cronelogical — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 01:07:52 +0000

After weeks of being unable to draw

cronelogical — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 02:59:31 +0000

A yellow lady slipper

The light that guides home

cronelogical — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 05:46:25 +0000

The light that guides one home

The Jar

cronelogical — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 00:56:13 +0000

A jar etched with your name
a single petal from a faded rose
a golden leaf
two pebbles from a distant island shore
a ring too small
a button covered with blue silk
a single pearl from a necklace
broken long ago

A painting waiting to happen

cronelogical — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 11:30:16 +0000

Moon shadow
purple pines
darken the snow

Boys against girls

cronelogical — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 01:38:20 +0000

Our Walk

cronelogical — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 08:48:30 +0000

Pink Lady

cronelogical — Mon, 19 May 2008 02:02:32 +0000

On her birthday
in pink satin
with her new helmet
and her new scooter
my lady rides

Symbol

cronelogical — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 11:36:12 +0000

Tree
deep rooted in the earth
laced into sky
map of generations
outliving all
cliche of truth
in a hundred languages.

From the prairie memory

cronelogical — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 01:44:55 +0000

Dark blue skies in the evening light

Roving

cronelogical — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 08:26:08 +0000

Let wayward fingers
prize words out of the ether
minus thought
and drift on the edge
across the final bar
that fences the horizon
only the white flag
signals trust
I hoist the blank page
and hope
there are words, and wordlings
far beyond my minding

Butterflies on Rainbow beach

cronelogical — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 02:00:06 +0000

Poem in the Dark of Night

cronelogical — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 01:08:27 +0000

The ravages of time–a cliche
but she knew that was the only way
she saw the mirror

All other words
she wrote on candy wrappers
tossed into the sea

Childhood

cronelogical — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 08:09:20 +0000

As the crone sat dreaming beside the summer sea

Her dreams were all of long ago

the tiny country store, grain elevators, the old gas pump, the post box

where Jenny Wren lived in summer.

The Postmaster, whose sign said “Bird in Residence, do not disturb.”

Inside the warm stove where local farmers came to gather mail, tell stories

and fill the air with pipe smoke

while the child hidden behind the counter stored their tales. Fran

Painting for Rainbow Beach

cronelogical — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 11:25:02 +0000

My drawing for Cronelogic and friends at Rainbow Beach

Loss

cronelogical — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 02:17:46 +0000

The words slip into a darkling cave

Bats hang in bunches from a stone shelf
I can go no further lest I lose the sun

I dare not use the lamp he gave me
Creatures that live in darkness fear the light
but I was born in the morning and this place refuses me

cronelogical — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 02:11:04 +0000

Crone recalls the schoolhouse dance

He plays an old record
the mellow tones of the saxaphone
a piano, a base, a drum or two
and the big band songs that they made their own
as they danced until dawn
and kissed at the gate
as her landlady checked
when she came in late

A Cully Killmouseki tale

cronelogical — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 02:09:43 +0000

Cat Morning

Morning
the little cat goes in and out
unable to decide whether wind and rain
are dangerous

Above the walk
the giant fronds of the palm
have no shadows
but cry out

The leaves of the grape vine
squish underfoot
and the dove’s voice
cannot be heard

Misty, the old cat

refuses to leave her cosy spot
but the kitten looks at me
expecting me to turn off the weather