Saturday, January 26, 2013

Long Time No See

Boy it has been along time since you've seen any new material here. I apologize and hope that you will continue to check this blog. Sometimes my life is overwhelmed with walking the Alzheimer's Path with Gregory. Most of my energy (and writing) goes into taking care of myself and taking care of him. So my personal writing suffers. I do feel a responsibility to you (and mostly to myself) to promote and practice my creative non-fiction writing. I have even promised myself that at some point I will try some fiction writing. Meanwhile I need to move this blog to a higher priority ... but after I have taken care of myself. So stay tuned...

As a teaser, here is a poem that was written recently and shared at my first ever poetry reading that took place on January 12, 2012 at CURT's Cafe, here in Evanston. This poem is based on a true event that took place while I was an undergraduate student at the University of Illinois at Champaign/Urbana.

The Visit (An Epic Poem) - 2012

Driving twenty five miles
We arrived at the farm house
Abandoned long ago
At the intersection of two unnamed roads.

The arrival was in a cloud of dust
At a house shrouded in dust
To visit people turned to dust
And their spirits of etherial dust.

The front door easily pushed open
Greeting us with a quiet as thick as years
No one in the rocker to greet us open armed 
Nor at the table for their morning meal.

The rocker mocked a horror film, 
Gently rocking in its deathly rhythm
Next to an empty window pane
Glass resting on the floor glittering.
On the table waiting
A cereal bowl with crusted spoon
Brown medicine bottle three quarters full
Rotting leather case with its pipe.

Up the stairs, carefully with fear
We dared what waited from time
No one in the bedroom asleep ... or dead
A bathroom, its faucet no longer dripping.

The bedroom with bed neatly quilted
A frilly pink bathrobe on a nail on the door
Clothes hanging in the armoire, not many
A bureau drawer nested by a robin now gone.

The bathroom a disgrace if any housewife was asked
Rusted toilet, scum ringed sink, smudged mirror
Abandoned animal tracks printing the floor in a scurry
Window curtains now hanging shredded.

Down the stairs not daring an over-shoulder look,
We took our leave in silence, door hinge daring to squeak,
We gently whispered our grateful goodbyes,
For dust’s sharing it secreted memories.

Driving twenty five miles
We arrived back home
One day our lives to be abandoned
In a still life painting memory of our own.

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