The road, still roughly graveled, drops the length
Of a strong man’s throw, angles down between
Hedgerows of sage and milkweed, even though
The houses on both sides are long since lost
To re-building and to disrepair. The road
Still travels furrow-straight past the homestead,
Widening slightly where tractors turned and turn
Into the yard. The house is no longer theirs,
Long since bricked over Grandpa’s rough logs,
Cemented over Grandma’s flowerbeds,
The wide box-elders cut and hauled away.
But the road continues straight, over the wooden
Trestle bridge where crawdads still prefer
Scrub-willow shades to sunlight flickering
On irrigation water brought from Cleveland’s slopes.
The road runs straight to the first mile-post,
Then turns due west, between pastures still hip-high
Green, bordered in great mounds of golden
Wild roses, studded along the creek-banks with
Butter-irises in spring. It runs straight until
The northward turn at the city park, once little
More than weeds, not watered, mowed, waiting
For the next reunion to bloom with children’s laughter.
From there, a mile to the north, then an angled turn
As sharp as Grandpa’s plow lines, east this time,
Toward the rising sun and—one mile distant—
The final turn, and I stand again at the graveled
Drop, not having seen a single person
In the fields, a single child playing in overgrown
Front yards. A mile square, cut from the valley floor,
Where long years lost still huddle in cottonwood shades,
And memories bid me stay and rest in peace.
A contest entry
- thepoetsings' 1st contest - PIF with a twist by thepoetsings.
600 points, ended July 3, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Ah. Memories ...
they can be bittersweet, as well as sweet, and sometimes both at the same time. This is quite a poignant write, and you've done a remarkable job of painting a picture with words -- not always the easiest thing to do.
This has a tang to it, rather like drinking iced tea without the sweetener, which, of course, brings up memories of long ago summers too.
All in all, this is quite a good job.
Good luck in the contest.
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I forgot to let you know that I would have preferred that you put what your querencia is in your AN.
This is really a great write and you describe this road so beautifully. I really loved "waiting / For the next reunion to bloom with children’s laughter" and "then an angled turn / As sharp as Grandpa’s plow lines"; both phrases were so vividly-worded. Loved the imagery!
However, for this contest, the piece just doesn't do what I'd like. You did not use the specified style (like "Abandoned Farmhouse" by Kooser), and I really don't see much of you in this poem, and that's sort of the point of the prompt. Standing alone (without the prompt), I would probably like it a whole lot more. Keep writing, though...I'd be happy to see you in any of my future contests, just as long as you keep a close eye on what the contest is about! Thanks for sharing,
~thepoetsings -
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Thanks for your comments. Sorry you didn't see in the poem what it was trying to do--that square mile is the essence of my past, the place I do indeed hold as a core of my memories. The poem is in a loose 4- or 5-stress line, as is Kooser's, so it at least approximates one element of his style. But I enjoyed writing it. It is always worth revisiting that one important place in my poetry, and this contest gave me a new perspective on it. Again thanks.
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Well, I appreciate that you did that, but really what I was looking for (maybe I didn't stress it enough) was inanimate objects narrating the querencia. Not a bad piece, just not what I wanted.
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No editorial comments! (Thanks for checking your spelling and grammar.) I'll be back with commentary on the content of the poem when judging...so pretty soon. Thank you for entering!
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Beautifully descriptive writing that painted a picture for me, of a place where memories live even though the place has changed. I like the way the road links the poem together, and encompasses heartland. I like the flora, too, the colours and the blooms. Poignant, lovely.
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Quite a pastoral scene you've painted here micol. The end coasts with solitude coming to rest nicely. I'm particularly sensitive to redundency so when L4 and L9 repeated "long since" it seemed a bit on the edge of too much, but that's just me. Not too sure the first line caps work either, but maybe it was intentional.
Nicely done.
Paul
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Great sensory detail. Love your phrasing such as "bloom with children's laughter" and "huddle in cottonwood shades" A well-constructed poem about beautiful memories.
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