Tag Archives: memories

Afternoon Poem, January 19, 2022

Pappaw kept a lettuce bed behind our house There was a little rectangle of soil between the back wall and the alley Shaded almost every way He dug and hoed until the dirt was fine as sand And rimmed the … Continue reading

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Mid-day Post, Nov. 15, 2018

It was late April after a long winter.  It seemed to us, young as we were then, that our lives were destined to be lived indoors.  We wore coats and hoods and boots and ran from one building to another … Continue reading

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Voices XII (1948)

After the war Carl Beane started building houses in town.   There were men around then.  Some of us had served in Europe and others had just come of age.  We saw the ditches for the foundation being laid out … Continue reading

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Morning Post, December 27, 2016

  Someone has said that the farther we get away from an event, the better we may understand it. I guess time does work that way.  What we lose in terms of memory may be more than made up for … Continue reading

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evening poem #2, October 2, 2016

    I remember sunny days long ago By the bright water, all of us The afternoon starting to cool into evening Shade under the old oaks and elms Blankets on the ground Listening to the radio Love songs, all … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, January 30, 2016

. In the dead of night In the dead of winter We rode motorcycles Through the dirty, mounded snow. . Why did no one stop us Our brains not even formed yet The hemispheres not fully connected together . What … Continue reading

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evening poem, November 3, 2015

‘ The old man sits on the edge of his bed in his single room His hair is white as the four walls, white as the gown he wears. He looks into his hands, the white palms He looks deeply, … Continue reading

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evening poem, september 12, 2015

I remember late summer The hot afternoons and cool evenings When night came earlier and dew sparkled On the cool grass beneath the post lights I remember the misting rain so fine That it seemed to hang suspended in the … Continue reading

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Poem of the Day, August 1, 2015

It Is Always August It is always August. If time would stop, it would stand still Under the dog star Winter lingers, but all of that season is labor Boots, gloves, scarves and coats Off and on, on and off … Continue reading

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Voices III

Our first Christmas together was in 1951.  I’d been working at the plant for eighteen months or so.  Had already got a raise.  We’d been married since June.  What’s that – six months?   We didn’t have much, looking back on … Continue reading

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