it’s the last performance
flashes of summer
glitter like starlight
we’ve come to see the show
the night air
jitters with excitement
that one twirls
that one sparkles
memories burst apart around me
like the end of a song
blink, blink, blink, blink
and then they’re gone
Gold star for anyone who can guess what this poem is about. 😉 It’s one of my favorite things about summer. I really hate to say goodbye to June.
–AJM
i moved a table into the kitchen
covered it with a tablecloth
and thought, this feels right
realizing later
that grandma covered her kitchen table
how i remember her white, wrinkled fingers
reaching for the mayonnaise
or ‘dressing’ as she called it
her fingers etched with hard work and mischief
how we’d sit on a Saturday afternoon and eat lunch
just sandwiches, chips, and pickles
and it felt like everything in life was alright
i eat my sandwich now and remember her
Christmas is gone, and she is too
but the table remains
and i sit here at my tableclothed table
eating my pickle
feeling like a queen
and honoring one
Happy New Year!! 🥳
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
Went and saw Christopher Robin today, and it was fantastic. I went in expecting some childhood nostalgia, and a heartwarming story and got exactly that. The animation of our old friends to look more like the actual stuffed animals is amazing, and makes you want to pick them up and hug ’em all!
I’m feeling a little nostalgic tonight, naturally, so reading The House at Pooh Corner.
Will also probably re-read Winnie the Pooh at some point, too. If I could ever write anything as well as A.A. Milne, I would count myself very blessed indeed!
Happy writing everyone! (And reading!)
My family and I lost someone very special to us this month; my grandma of 88 years, passed away Friday, May 8th. While words don’t really do her justice – (I’ve never had this problem before!) It certainly doesn’t hurt to try.
So, I wrote a poem to honor her, which I read at her memorial service. Afterwards, everyone came up and told me how great it was, how “perfect” it was and fitting for her. But inside I felt empty. A part of me was pleased that everyone liked it, but I didn’t feel like I deserved it; it wasn’t good enough, it didn’t feel complete. But I think it was because, in this case, words can never really express how someone was in life, how much they mean to you, how much you ache and feel sorrow because they are gone.
I think there comes a time (even for a writer) when words just aren’t enough. No matter how much you try. Regardless, my grandma was a beautiful woman inside and out…and I did it to honor her.
(Or if you click on my beautiful picture you can see a larger image and read the poem there.)
The woman who loved the color purple
had laughter on her lips
and everywhere she walked and talked
there was a purpose to her quips
She was always there to lend an ear
no judgement in her mind
She was always there for everyone
hard-working, mischievous and kind
The woman who loved to laugh and camp
had compassion in her eyes
She didn’t have to do everything
but by golly, she did try!
She was a woman of many names
and as busy as can be
But no matter what you called her
she was always “Grandma” to me.
A. J. Morse 