frederick-shiels - Hello Poetry

Maybe men labored under a yellow sky bent under barley sheaves they’d cut, returned behind limestone walls and leaned to splash water on each other at the well. You can see its crumbling curve today, in one city as old when Cheops' pyramid was built as pyramids are to us right now. Jericho, not so far away from Egypt and, our archaeologists tell us, likely really didn’t hear the blare of Joshua’s trumpets shuddering down old Canaan-cursed by-Noah, coaxing walls to shudder, teeter, list from Israelite raids. You see one barley-bearer shaking dry, descend stair-tunnels to his flat to kneel before his hungry daughter, hungry wife, waiting for evening’s barley bread to cool. He joins as they resume their business of the day to gently set the cowrie eyes in Grandma’s face, two priests removed the rest of her last year, but left the precious head to decompose at home scented in the wall with sweet Netufian herbs, And now the family gathers near small fire, desert nightbreeze filtering through the cracks tenderly to soften Mother’s bony head with daubs of plaster re-create her nose, and gaping eye sockets, softening too those black orbits with white plaster. Slowly her death’s head touched tenderly by younger finger tips becomes something like a human head again, If not quite living, cowrie shells complete this vision of a vacant queenly stare befits a family shrine. When things are done, small granddaughter now squeals with delight her own dark eyes reflect the fire-light.

0

May 19, 2015

May 19, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC

SWEET SKULLS OF JERICHO

Maybe men labored under a yellow sky bent under barley sheaves they’d cut, returned behind limestone walls and leaned to splash water on each other at the well. You can see its crumbling curve today, in one city as old when Cheops' pyramid was built as pyramids are to us right now. Jericho, not so far away from Egypt and, our archaeologists tell us, likely really didn’t hear the blare of Joshua’s trumpets shuddering down old Canaan-cursed by-Noah, coaxing walls to shudder, teeter, list from Israelite raids. You see one barley-bearer shaking dry, descend stair-tunnels to his flat to kneel before his hungry daughter, hungry wife, waiting for evening’s barley bread to cool. He joins as they resume their business of the day to gently set the cowrie eyes in Grandma’s face, two priests removed the rest of her last year, but left the precious head to decompose at home scented in the wall with sweet Netufian herbs, And now the family gathers near small fire, desert nightbreeze filtering through the cracks tenderly to soften Mother’s bony head with daubs of plaster re-create her nose, and gaping eye sockets, softening too those black orbits with white plaster. Slowly her death’s head touched tenderly by younger finger tips becomes something like a human head again, If not quite living, cowrie shells complete this vision of a vacant queenly stare befits a family shrine. When things are done, small granddaughter now squeals with delight her own dark eyes reflect the fire-light.

35

I speak to you now, former wife, another time, another place I don’t know where you are, where you’ve been these forty years But in that year, that sultry, passioned summer in Japan twelve months past exchanging wedding bands, we rode the train in to Tokyo every day from Nerimaku at the city’s edge, apartment on that narrow street, floor two, and no A.C. only a floor fan to blow the steamy air, but the *** was great, the sleeping not so much and you in your green forties style patterned dress, mid-length would often melt my heart, Remember, if you hear me, that as time to come home neared we were favored by an Imperial Palace gardens private tour from a friendly diplomat, how we made the connection I forget unless you, my dark-eyed twenty four, might remember I’m not likely to find out, and does it matter? He proudly showed us small silver waterfalls catch light over well- placed rocks, the full ferns lush, and roses and lavender the best of what was left of manicured flowers, I held your hand, in this seeming almost the perfect ending To six weeks of endless interviewing, I was so glad to have you there, law and grad student couple walking with our grey haired friend, an austral early evening breeze brought kind relief, the blessing that can come with late August’s setting sun, our host pointed to tiny flecks of red and yellow almost imperceptible on the vast sweet-gums we passed observing that the Japanese revered the sight-- this time of year as if anticipation of the coming season were sweeter than the fall itself, And I have never forgotten that revelation And I have never forgotten the fleeting smile in your brown eyes in that long green moment of the western sky.

0

Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC

1975: Japanese Imperial Gardens in Late August

I speak to you now, former wife, another time, another place I don’t know where you are, where you’ve been these forty years But in that year, that sultry, passioned summer in Japan twelve months past exchanging wedding bands, we rode the train in to Tokyo every day from Nerimaku at the city’s edge, apartment on that narrow street, floor two, and no A.C. only a floor fan to blow the steamy air, but the *** was great, the sleeping not so much and you in your green forties style patterned dress, mid-length would often melt my heart, Remember, if you hear me, that as time to come home neared we were favored by an Imperial Palace gardens private tour from a friendly diplomat, how we made the connection I forget unless you, my dark-eyed twenty four, might remember I’m not likely to find out, and does it matter? He proudly showed us small silver waterfalls catch light over well- placed rocks, the full ferns lush, and roses and lavender the best of what was left of manicured flowers, I held your hand, in this seeming almost the perfect ending To six weeks of endless interviewing, I was so glad to have you there, law and grad student couple walking with our grey haired friend, an austral early evening breeze brought kind relief, the blessing that can come with late August’s setting sun, our host pointed to tiny flecks of red and yellow almost imperceptible on the vast sweet-gums we passed observing that the Japanese revered the sight-- this time of year as if anticipation of the coming season were sweeter than the fall itself, And I have never forgotten that revelation And I have never forgotten the fleeting smile in your brown eyes in that long green moment of the western sky.

32

breaks away from it family to inspect my wet leg teasing a shiny blonde hair lit by an evening Baltic sun, its wings said to vibrate at 2,000 times per second, if I reach to touch this momentarily curious creature it vaults toward the back lit protective river reed sweet grass or water lilies at 100 times the speed of one length of its jeweled body, Two species in short vernal contact and how to compare us: Zygoptera have lived 250 years, possess keen 360 degree vision eat mosquitos, never had a thought, yet who is to say my kind are better in the scheme of things?

0

Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC

An Azure damselfly

breaks away from it family to inspect my wet leg teasing a shiny blonde hair lit by an evening Baltic sun, its wings said to vibrate at 2,000 times per second, if I reach to touch this momentarily curious creature it vaults toward the back lit protective river reed sweet grass or water lilies at 100 times the speed of one length of its jeweled body, Two species in short vernal contact and how to compare us: Zygoptera have lived 250 years, possess keen 360 degree vision eat mosquitos, never had a thought, yet who is to say my kind are better in the scheme of things?

19

5 breaks away from it family to inspect my wet leg teasing a shiny blonde hair lit by an evening Baltic sun, its wings said to vibrate at 2,000 times per second, if I reach to touch this momentarily curious creature it vaults toward the back lit protective river reed sweet grass or water lilies at 100 times the speed of one length of its jeweled body, Two species in short vernal contact and how to compare us: Zygoptera have lived 250 years, possess keen 360 degree vision eat mosquitos, never had a thought, yet who is to say my kind are better in the scheme of things?

0

Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC

An azure damselfly

5 breaks away from it family to inspect my wet leg teasing a shiny blonde hair lit by an evening Baltic sun, its wings said to vibrate at 2,000 times per second, if I reach to touch this momentarily curious creature it vaults toward the back lit protective river reed sweet grass or water lilies at 100 times the speed of one length of its jeweled body, Two species in short vernal contact and how to compare us: Zygoptera have lived 250 years, possess keen 360 degree vision eat mosquitos, never had a thought, yet who is to say my kind are better in the scheme of things?

20