"appleton" poems
My Brothers and Sister and Me
We all share the same genes
Though some hide it better than others.
Similarities And Differences are pronounced.
The apples don’t fall far from the tree
Though a couple of them bounced.
Apples baked into pies or
Thrown to the horses
Rotten and brown and wormy and
Delicious apple cider in the Fall.
Applesauce and apple butter and Appleton, Wisconsin
Looking for a job? Applications for them all.
Mountains, and mountains of books
Rivers, and streams of numbers
Hiking and running through canyons
Flowers and gardens and mushrooms and parks.
Shooting pheasants in the fields
Shooting stars in the dark.
Time will tell. Time will tell
Mom’s in Heaven, Dad’s in his own Hell.
Whose footsteps will you follow?
What size boots do you own?
Who most will you resemble?
When your own kids are grown.
We are laughing. We are laughing.
We are librarians and teachers
And accountants and staff and lumbermen always.
And still we all laugh.
“Thought one of you’d be a preacher.”
“Good money in that.”
Each generation’s gaps grow wider
As the trees grow taller the apples fall farther
Similarities and Differences well-defined
Still laughing. Still laughing at things
New genes swimming in the family pool
Some of the cousins can sing!!
PwL March, 2015
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
I wanted to be witty and sly
or dare I say without trepidation
trailer park brilliant and loose
as they stood forlorned and tired
soaking in the rain before me
but I had little or close to nothing at all.
The look on those grey faces
heavily stunned, vacant and lost
almost as if the very eye itself
were pacing down the hallway alone
as if things were registering
without having registered at all.
Reaching down deep and wide
farther, broader and well beyond
the sea of black in my heart at the time
I gathered and mustered at a very low decibel
the only few words or thoughts
electable on such a grave night.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Low Lands.
I… Cornelius Appleton, bid you good night!”
Just fifteen words spoken out loud
on the pier that night above the water
heard by those in and of the crowd
each and every word offered insincerely
against little or no resistance at all
from the natives, their neighbors and kin.
Then turning I left- no faster then normal
going, never to return in time or space
or to be heard from again in truth
hence forth just a shadow of a thought
of a man once there and in the know...
now gone without explanation or conclusion.
However, during the shifting doldrums of many nights
awakening- from the eternal springs of sleep
I see those faces and I hear their thoughts
and I recollect the dreams they had- of tomorrow
because it was I who lit them into fire
then smiled as they rose away in smoke.
In the bitter end when the day closed
neither I nor they in any way, fashion or shape
were any more grandiose, evolved or pleased
for having run the race that we all ran together
but that race was run, it’s true and it’s in the books
perhaps in the future- we can run it again.
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 2:03 PM UTC
Topic of the day
As I walked in the store
Was the military going gay
Storekeeper ready for war
I liked the guy normally
So I hated to spring my trap
But its what I do ...regretfully
I listen to people and see past the crap
It doesn't make me many friends
But I'll.trade that for any light I create
In those dark and dingy corners
Where no reason or reality has...
,,,,,,been able ......to ..penetrate
Ever notice how people resent it
If you really listen as they speak
So sometimes I pretend to be vapid
So I won't be considered some kind of freak
It doesn't work either
Cause they always see it in my eyes
And say "WHAT ? ,You really think I'm wrong.?"
And I get the job for which noone else applies
Somewhere in my DNA is a madman gene
Where I say if 2 x 2 is 4 then 200 x 200 is 4
The zero is a distraction if allowed to come between
Reason and abstraction the surface and the core
So I jumped right in that day
When any normal person wouldn't dare
"Whats your objection Mr. Appleton
You don't think all things should be fair
And he pulled out the playbook to find a quote
A book that is a cover and a cover not a word in between
Censoring out all reason means that thats "all she wrote"
Then out it came all the same a 7 with 4 zeros trailing along
"They shouldn't be allowed to be in the military cause ...
I'm thinking don't use the zeros no no .. I FOUGHT IN VIETNAM
Click ...click ...CLICK....
SO YOU"RE SAYING YOU WENT AND FOUGHT FOR FREEDOM?
HE AGREED So I let him keep the zeros (a couple more seconds)
And they have a right in a free country to be who they are? I asked
He nodded as I reclaimed the now sad little zeros CLICK....
IM CONFUSED Sir they get freedoms men FOUGHT and died for
He again nodded *** but they don't have to pay for it.? Right?
I just went ahead and took all his playbook stash of zeros CLICK
Click click .I leaned and whispered "Thats a hell of a deal - how you were willing to fight and die click click click click so gay men
Could stay here where its safe while you pay for him to ****
Click click click click.... Needless to say I had to find a new store to shop at.CLICK.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
The apartment in which we lived when I was small
in Los Angeles, California when I was not at all tall
our landlady, Mrs. Appleton, would oft come to call
she and mom were friends ... I could barely crawl.
The windows were opened on lovely sunshine days
soft breezes blew white curtains in billowing sways
with fragrances of honeysuckle and rose bouquets
wafting through rooms like perfume scented sprays.
We were not rolling in money and were quite poor
yet it was nothing that mom and I couldn't endure
she managed her meager finances well to ensure
we had all our needs met, her factory job secured.
The kitchen we had was substantial small, clean
a country sink, a stove and a roller wash machine
clothes were hung in our yard on ropes of green
we watched sunsets through the open door screen.
The apartment I remember is often on my mind
my mother's sacrifice seemed sublime at the time.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
It is 7:30 in Appleton a Monday
wet with two straight days of rain,
of course it is 2012 but I can't quite get
on my feet when this blanket is so warm
and the 8:30 class is so cold but there
is usually a 8:20 urge and a 8:25 surge
and what do you know, it feels like fall
I have arrived at the crosswalk, this time
with grace and style but also with a thought
that I should one day run full sprint in
the wrong direction to see where I end up
but there are flashing yellow lights so
anyway its rather foggy and I will
have to cut across the frosty grass with
all its leaves because I need to ***
and there is a restroom next door
but hold it because my phone says
8:31 I am a whole minute late, run?
what’s a minute but a mint and a nut
Elevated into Evanescence by Elixir Endpoint,
because that class was quick plus I have
Philosophy today but I forgot to print my
essay so I walk to LANCE HALL and
walk up stairs to my door and there is my
Click-Click, with Song-Song and Look-Look
still on upon waking and I a few seconds
later close those and print but it is slow and
there is a spinning rainbow wheel with a
dreamscape reel and a time warp feel
but that happens so I go downstairs
and double-click twice and hear noise!
Fear strikes as TONER LOW appears
and a red light blinks for ATTENTION
however the pages come out and
I staple them with careful ordering of course
and after I place it in the mailbox it is
lunch time, or cool-down-mindful-now
I sit down with food ready and a PACKERS
victory staring at me enthusiastically from paper
I begin to eat with Time coming around
the corner in a tilbury rolling his wheels to
11:07 and my name is called by a friend
who comes and we talk and we talk
and we -
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
The mornings
are the worst.
Writhing between my sheets
like a night crawler cut in half
by the piercing apathy in your
permafrost eyes
the last time I saw them.
I'd cut off my own arm
before I went back to Barcelona.
It's that special kind of pain;
where I feel sick to my stomach
when I see young people holding hands,
kissing.
That special kind of pain,
where no girl is beautiful anymore.
I am the black hole,
the mouse hole,
in the bottom corner of the room.
It ***** out anything worth savoring.
I can act like I'm fine
for approximately 22.2 minutes a day
22.2 years I lived without you
two too many to count.
I used to be two
Now I am barely half of what I was
and I can't bear full moons.
I have the right to bear arms.
Especially after what you and I did to me.
But now I'm armless
You're careless
I'm handless.
I can't pick up the pieces
you scattered all over Denver
Appleton
North San Diego County
Barcelona
Valencia
Bilbao
Cumberland
and West Falmouth.
Maybe you can retrace that trail of blood.
I can't,
but that doesn't stop me from trying
every day.
And I keep arriving
at the same dried up
empty ocean
where only salt is left behind.
9 months later I'm still too ripe.
I'd cut off my own arm
before I went back to Barcelona.
I want to salvage
the parts of me
that sank with that ship
struck by whatever
the **** that was.
Whatever the ****
we all keep writing about.
In your defense and in mine,
no one as young as us
could ever be ready for that.
The world has two poles.
I was 23 when I was told
that I do too.
You brought them both out of me
and everything in between.
But now I'm stuck on the lower one;
a windless white flag at half mast.
Nightmares are just dreams
and nothing could be more real.
A heartbreak to a poet
is just a dream that came true,
and so are you.
Daymares are not real,
and neither is the frozen hemoglobin
they **** from your veins.
I used to get so high,
and laugh.
I've had one first cigarette
and a million last cigarettes.
I guess that pretty much sums it all up.
And back I go to Barcelona.
With one arm.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 12:42 AM UTC