Exploring the Intriguing
Category: Poetry
This is a poem I wrote more than a decade ago. I'd basically forgotten it until reminded of its genesis by a good friend. Thanks JYL.
Dan
Young inside old out
Bright skin shines
Like tanned leather hide
His eyes
Glimmering clear
No feelings to deny
When he goes home
Lying in the dusty room
All he calls his own
Within his view
As he smiles
And lays down to rest
© Gayle Force Press 2010
I am teaching about the colonial period in US History and have recently covered the Proclamation of 1763 which defined the Appalachian Mountains as the westernmost area in which English colonists were allowed to settle. That didn't last for long. The westward expansion continued until the self-fulfilling prophecy of Manifest Destiny was achieved. Achieved at unknowable cost.
Last night the moon was as bright as I remember seeing it in years. It was a Dead Settlers Moon.
There’s a dead settlers moon tonight
When the sky is full of piercing light
Forcing the world into noticing the depth of shadows
Sparked in white not yellow
These were the nights
When crossing no man’s lands
Led to rampant success for the bow strung warriors of the Lakota Sioux
While the cavalries of gunpowder and smallpox blankets
Never seemed to arrive in time
© Gayle Force Press 2006
I’m named for someone
I no longer know
My father used to be a man
Who had this name
And skin
A similar color
But now he’s bearded
With a different body
And people tell us
We look alike
Because of our hair
And disdain for smiling
Which used to annoy
But now amuses me
Although not enough
To ever make me smile
At them
© Gayle Force Press 2003
It’s summer in Indiana
And my little boy is eight
We’ve spent all morning together
Since there’s nothing in the gym
Except his future and my past
Running and shooting
Learning some basics
Only stopping to drink some water
And prop the doors open
Then back to the hard work of fun
More shooting of course,
Free throws when tired
That’s always the way
Then just after soreness
We’re finally done
There’s nothing in the gym
Except silence and the floor
And it’s summer in Indiana
© Gayle Force Press 2008
I'm re-posting this poem because my grandfather gave me a load of vegetables from his garden and I plan to start cooking with them today. "Kitchen" seems appropriate to share.
FDO
I walked from the kitchen
Slowly stopped and turned around
The gentle bubble of pots on the stove
Sounded warm and beautiful
Inviting, so I went back in
Watching the lid dance over my soup
I noticed the dry, hot smell
Of cumin drowning in the sweet
Black juice of the beans
I felt the smile on my face
And wondered how many times
My granddad stood smiling in his kitchen
With the cornbread beginning to brown
© Gayle Force Press 2004
She’s waded into the waters
This time, she refuses to come back up
For air, for light, forever
© Gayle Force Press 2010
Each day opens like a flower
Waiting to bloom anew
Gentle rains may come
Only to moisten
Softening the world
And me in it
Allowing the beauty of life
A chance to flourish
In the fertile territory
Of God’s great world
© Gayle Force Press 2010
Grandma’s adrift today
Her mind and breath
Gone swimming
Into a yawning, gasping sea
Faces and memories
Run quickly past
Sliding and colliding into one another
How to describe
With no more words as tools
Cooling and weak
Her hand still reaches out
Through the fog and needles
Searching out comfort
To give, not to receive
Grandma’s anchored tonight
Still and certain
Resting in peace
And the arms of her Lord
© Gayle Force Press 2010
It’s mostly a theory
Something more but nothing less
In its simplest form
America hates its victims
As soon as Plymouth Rock
Landed on Indians and led to dinner
Not disaster
The Pilgrims planned their progress
For America
The die was cast
FDO
© Gayle Force Press 2008
The once sturdy oak
Now exists in triad
Oddly mangled logs on the ground
It has yielded its form
To become a different kind of conduit
No longer a respite for birds
It shelters a thin, shedding snake
Some small colony of ants
Leaf chewing grubs
All while wearing a brand new crown
Of white, spreading flower
Perfectly fit to the majesty
Of a still sturdy oak
© Gayle Force Press 2010
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