"nellies" poems
[Dedicated to Horace Sheridan-Bickers]
A vision of flushed faces, shining limbs,
The madness of the music that entrances
All life in its delirium of dances!
The white world glitters in the void, and swims
Through the infinite seas of transcendental trances.
Yea! all the hoarded seed of all my fancies
Bursts in a shower of suns! The wine-cup brims
And bubbles over; I drink deep hymns
Of sorceries, of spells, of necromancies;
And all my spirit shudders; dew bedims
My sight -these girls and their alluring glances!
Their eyes that burn like dawn's lascivious lances
Walking all earth to love -to love! Life skims
The cream of joy. If God could see what man sees,
(Intoxicating Nellies, Mauds and Nances!)
I see Him leave the sapphrine expanses,
The choir serene and the celestial air
To swoon into their sacramental hair!
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What if she was caught drinking and then the nosey nellies would be thinking again
of just how ****** up She could be and how they have something fun to spin
the Doctors of Spin
the Ladies of Sin they call us when we get all liquored up and forget about our children in the pickup truck
the cursed reality of boredom and monotony
the drowning days of diapers rotting in the corner of the bedroom...while She visits with "friends" in the hall
Take a drag
Turn into a hag
Get so mad cause the nosey nellies just don't understand how messed up your "life" is
and how much you hate
yours,
your friends
and
your family's
Cause none of them really care...they just love to stare and spin there tales of woe
Pointless woe
Turn into a ***
and next year it will be more of the same to start at the beginning again.
She won't remember what she promised or what she lied about
She might remember what you cried about
It will be ok though cause in 10 years, that kid will be out the door
Peddling the hash
Stealing people's stash
and one day it may come....he turns into a man
while his momma is just too numb.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
Screen Door Always Open
Flashback of a slow train on a narrow track, visions from a car window or old pickup truck
Memories of tasting dirt roads and noisy toads, taking it all in while old wheels spin
Arrival looks like a revival minus the Bible, Wind washed home between railroad tracks next to a river bank
Juvenile sensations sensationalized, taste of mulberry, watermelon, Kool-Aid in Tupperware, refinery a constant scent of tar or diesel, Smell of whitewash not political yet, waiting line at the tire swing
Barefoot brings bee stings, soft familiar feeling of clover between toes, whiffle ball for all, plenty to do for me or you, willingness to play holds highest rank
More fun catching bait than avoiding the old bait and switch, Lessons laid out and kept separate like hooks on a trot line, uncaring for the memories these days would bring
Collecting sunshine brings blistering burns, red skin clashes with red hair, grass stains and heat show no pain, remove both with wonders of the wash tank
No hills but a few Dales, Lakes and streams in between, Grandma Nellies reward a penny for each dandelion dug endless fodder for young hands to wander, like a merry-go-round little minds spin and spin
Few recollections of adults they must have been bored, stayed in shade porch protected, order by age from front to back
Melancholy notes drifting down from meadowlarks or mourning doves, mixed country or Beatles on a.m. radio, sights, sound, tastes enter, mark unique imprints on our soul, carried softly to the end
No future lost when unknown, will we miss it when it's gone, Ciyfied now to those old folks I still give a bow,
next time we see an old house with the screen door wide open is more family's adding to memoirs to their masterwork
R.C.
Jun 12, 2022
Jun 12, 2022 at 2:46 AM UTC