slowly
she moves
moving
down the steps
steps
where once
children laughed
now
empty
snow crusted
memories
no one now
to remove
the snow
snow covers
steps
and
graves
of those
who walked here
now
alone
slow steps
down
down to where
there is really
no place
to go
hoping
to acquire
some
desired property
a rather young
and
eager
real estate agent
stopped
to talk
to aunt bea
about
the advantages
of
retirement home living
and how
he
could help her
reach
financial independence
in her
senior years
i decided
to sit in
and
watch
the fireworks
halfway
through his spiel
aunt bea
said
child
have you lost
your mind
there is no way
in hell
i’m gonna
leave this house
to live in some
retirement community
where my fingernail polish
is older than
most of the staff
and
as you would
soon learn
as the party
responsible for
my
placement
the first time
someone
anyone
talked to me like
a child
all hell
would hafta
be paid
so
save
yourself
some grief
takes those
papers
back to their
source
the
forest
edward
stopped by
to see
aunt bea
she said
oh
look at you
all grown
running fast
and
hard
in the city
willing
to compromise
anything
for your
everything
no needs
just
wants
in your life
back in
your little hometown
talking like
you’ve got
nothing to lose
you’re
so
full of yourself
just look at you
no honey
i
mean
take
a close
look
at yourself
yesterday
i committed
a cardinal sin
no
not one
of
the biblical ones
but
i
went tromping through
aunt bea’s
backdoor
without noticing
she’d just mopped
now
for most
of you
that’s no big deal
but
if you’ve
spent a number
of years
cleaning house
for
other folks
it’s
a big deal
her
raised eyebrow
and
crooked smile
was my
first warning
followed
by this verbal shot
across my bow
aunt bea
said
i do love
when you come
to visit
it shows
you care
however
caring
and
respecting
are on the same side
of life’s coin
respecting
the little things
speaks volumes
it says
you appreciate
not only
past contributions
but also
what
one is attempting
to do today
to maintain
a sense of dignity
it could be
that they
continue to put on makeup
wear pantyhose
or
just
mop their floor
whatever
it is
make sure
you look
carefully
before
entering
another’s home
physically
or
verbally
Modified public domain photo taken by L.D. Doane
when johnny
comes marching home
he’ll find
there ain’t
no jobs
for defenders
of freedom
all the jobs
have been cut
or sent
overseas
a casualty
of
budget cuts
and
profit margins
yes
when good old johnny
comes marching home
he’ll find
there’s no place
like home
cuz’
there ain’t
no home
the banks
foreclosed on it
while he was away
dodging bullets
but
he’ll find his family
living uncomfortably
with his parents
or
stuck in some over-priced
apartment complex
owned by
the same
said bankers
but let’s all sing
when johnny
comes marching home
cuz’
we
all
know
he’ll be marching
back to war
as part of
the
workforce development program
crafted
so carefully
by politicians
at the request of
concerned
bankers
the night’s silence
was shattered
by the sounds
of her daughter’s
arrhythmic
heart beat
a sound
usually masked out
by the screeching screams
of the trains
as they re-carved
their way underground
to every part
of the city
she could even
hear the transformer
that served
as their heater
as it struggled
to keep up
with the pull
for current
from the buildings above
strangely
there were no
voices
or
shuffling feet
scurrying through
the metallic jaws
of the trains
just sounds
she could barely
remember hearing
in all these years
that this chamber
has been their home
rising from the mat
of old newspapers
she peered around
the columns
it was empty
gone were
the panhandlers
who shared
their profits
with her
when her daughter
posed as their
starving child
gone were
the well dressed
business types
and
the
wanna-be-a-rich man types
there weren’t
even
any police
water was quickly
entering the tunnel
the world
must have ended
pulling her daughter
to her feet
they ran to the stairs
but there were bars
blocking the exit
they were trapped
the water
grew deeper
reaching
the transformer
the safe shelter
she had sought
from
social sneers
was soon
to become
their
mausoleum
copyright cwmartin 2012
shards
of memories
pierce
the flesh
on the new day
lacerated thoughts
bleed into
hopes
of something new
pain
fogs
the inner eye
blocking
the
view
making
the eyes
unable
to look
beyond
yesterday
copyright cwmartin 2012
sometimes
when a fever
runs high
and
i
am alone
in my bed
all my fears
swirling in my head
creating such
dread
i
would swear
i feel your gentle hands
wiping my brow
and
speaking softly
that all
will be well
and
that i
am
not
alone
Poem inspired by Soul Dipper (http://souldipper.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/love-embedded-a-mothers/)
digital decoupage cwmartin 2011
the one thing
i’ve always loved
about christmas
is aunt bea’s
snowflake cookies
each one cut out
with grandma’s
old cookie cutter
each cookie
covered with icing
sweeter than political promises
so
entering the kitchen
finding her
staring out the window
holding
the cookie cutter up
comparing
its shape
with that of snowflakes
on the window
i was
a bit surprised
when she said
have you noticed
how all the snowflakes
look the same
but
i said
aunt bea
according to science
each snowflake is unique
like
the needs of people
in our country
aunt bea said
well
you’d better send
that news flash
to the folks
in the government
digital decoupage cwmartin 2011
paper and ribbons
tossed into the christmas bin
sleepy children nap
Read Between the Minds 