Best Siding Poems
As requested here is another episode. If this is your first time reading, check out the first one it will make more sense. Let me know if you would like me to continue. Those who are following the tale, thanks!
When I awoke Ricky was fast asleep, being a pop bottle I have no way of keeping my eyes closed. Mind you I'm not complaining, I got to see the most amazing sunrise. I so wanted Ricky to enjoy it as well so I refracted the light and shone it on his eyes. I could tell he was a bit irritated but it had the desired effect, he got out of bed so he could move me. As he walked over to the window I could feel the irritation turn to wonder as he saw the beauty of the sunrise. From that day forward he became a morning person.
Ricky stood there for a while with me held dangling by his side. I no longer needed my glass, I could see clearly through his blue eyes. It was a very nice street and Ricky particularly liked the house across the street. The house had bright white siding and a manicured lawn. There were also planters with all kinds of pretty flowers. The house was owned by an older couple and they didn't have any children. It seemed a rather big house for only two people.
Soon Roy and Teresa were also awake and they all fought to use the one and only bathroom. Mom and Dadio had already left for work, Dadio to cut hair and Mom as a waitress at the Coffee Cup. Their baby sitter's name was Mrs. Burns an older lady that seemed very fond of floral print dresses. She had made her way up the stairs because the kids didn't seem to hear her call them for breakfast. They all ran past her to the dining room table and waited for her to slowly make her way back down the stairs. She may not have been fleet of foot but boy what a great breakfast. Bacon eggs and saugage as well as orange juice. Ricky tried to pour the orange juice into me but got almost as much on the table. Still it was quite a treat for me to enjoy, after all breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
The cat bowl has been frooze for a week now and the wind is howling like a banshee in the
window cracks. The thermometer reads eighteen degrees and dropping, granny says the
temperature will keep dropping; she knows the degree of pain in her joints is more severe
than ever before. I hope that the old car starts on time in the morning to get me to work and
back.
The wind was blasting like hurricane forces against the vinyl siding of our home. I hoped
others will have a safe and good night and no frozen pipes or worse. I am glad to have a roof
over my head, my family safe around me and a full belly. Everything else really doesn't
matter. Though I pray that we will have no wind damage to our home tonight on this coldest
night in history.
The night the house was buried in snow; we found a fully frozen buck close to our house and
mounted his head since he didn't need it anymore. The antlers make a good hat rack.
Yes the north wind blew harder than I have ever heard before....causing instant frost bite to
any bare skin exposed. The kind of night for snuggling and chilli or any warm beverage.
This cold night was special in a spiritual way; there was a special visitor to our door that
night and he brought a message like no other. I knew the message was for me and only me
from God Himself....
Yes I had a real awakening that night while fighting off chill bumps and cabin fever.
to be continued...
ALUMINUM SIDING
my heart is buried behind the aluminum siding,
trapped inside that bubbly feeling i’d get when your arms would graze my waist,
in the late night bus rides when the light slipping through the shutters swathed your smirk in soft, blazing bandages.
you called me darling back then.
why won’t you call me darling again?
your love was scrawled between ink splotches, inside hugs and eyebrow raises,
while i thought it was too timid to beat its way out of your rib cage.
why didn’t i see where everything was hidden sooner?
my metamorphosis into something more unhinged began the day i left you.
and with you, i left everything i love behind.
you twirled saturn’s rings around my fingers
and scribbled possums on sticky notes that i treated as love letters, hiding them in scratched phone cases and backpack pockets, carrying your heart on my sleeve, mushed in with chewed erasers and tangled earbuds.
so now i walk the heartwrenching path of least resistance away from you,
but it’s not the path around the aluminum siding we used to take.
The house on the hill stood forsaken by time.
The gutters were hanging and covered in grime.
The windows were warped and the siding was peeling,
And spider webs spanned from the floor to the ceiling
The moon overhead had now reached its full height.
It was only a crescent and scarcely gave light.
As my heart quickened, I rose from my chair
For this was the hour when the ‘others’ appear.
When walls wear thin between this and the next,
And ghosts can cross over with eerie effects.
The room became cold as so often it would,
And I wanted to hide but then before I could
A spectral window appeared from the gloom
And soon it enveloped the entire room.
Through it was a vision that ransomed my breath:
A young girl in her bed lying quiet as death.
“Why are you here?” I yelled with surprise
To which she arose and looked deep in my eyes.
Through the veil that divided I thought she looked scared,
But she said nothing and just sat and stared.
Breaking the silence I repeated my query
To which she erupted in violent fury.
She told me to leave, that this wasn’t my place
With an anger and fear that contorted her face.
I reached out to calm her, from my own habit mostly,
But realized with panic that my own arm was ghostly.
Ethereal body, I was spectral and wrong.
She was right; I was the one who didn’t belong.
For all of my wisdom, I had to admit
Dying wasn’t something I thought I’d forget.
But I was the ghoul that was lost out of time.
I looked at the moon as it slipped from its prime.
The girl whispered something I couldn’t hear what,
But the window was fading, my time was soon up.
And as it shut closed like each night it does
I forgot everything and became who I was.
8.21.18
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
The swell and surge of surf
whispers tinnitus conched
on titanium sunken tankers
that rock restlessly on far reef,
as children play unheeded
building imagined bastions,
nursery rhymes drown
turning back cnut tides.
Inevitably,
sand shifts in an hourglass
that plumb the memory's depth
with rosy pictures in ruby flourescence
like monochrome holiday snaps
stored in old bashed biscuit tins
that mother would open on grey
overcast November soaked Sundays.
All oceans are drowned
by the sea's past dregs,as cerulean and cobalt waves
steer towards safe harbors,
tantalized by tinto tinted sunrises
like a rocking pendulum
that plays a metronome symphony,
playing lullabies, rhythms sound
when der holle rache sings
and the nocturnal queen echoes as the dawn breaks.
Translucently, ephemeral light
glistens on children's limbs,water singing as they play,
momentarily soaked in perfection
as delicate beams dance over their fragile bones.
Now amber-crafted moments, Capri's crimson breasts
waves, nestles close to succour infant swells.
Yet magenta lips pout in rock pools,
the breaking and wombing
of waters now birth new journeys
that drive towards a vortex rush.
Defiant boats chase, turning tides in lucent rays,
navigate between lava laced volcanic outcrops
into distant remembered horizons.
Dirt road lined with walls of stone,
run right up to the small home,
rust red siding coming in view,
in my head it’s still cedar, blue.
Sugar maples line a big field,
in march syrup we will steal,
vast open space on a hill,
where once cows did eat their fill.
Ancient giants in the trees,
some with knots, sign of disease,
one split trunk, a lightning strike,
still alive, since before Ike.
Waving grass across the slope,
sometimes deer, but mostly no,
groudhogs search, wanting to eat,
hayed yearly, sold off for feed.
On the house, a massive deck,
a new one, the last one wrecked,
view to the north, in good sun,
sees distant Mount Washington.
Inside is the fireplace,
built way back in olden days,
massive field-stones found nearby,
shunt the black smoke to the sky.
A big table grandpa built,
difty years, we use it still,
kitchen that is way too small,
oven dominates it all.
All built back in the sixties,
grandpa sick of the city,
back when the land was still cheap,
when the tourists weren’t so deep.
Though I guess I’m one of them,
and so will be my children,
when I’m gone, their kids will roam
our ancestral vacation home.
The engine: Long and black
And sleek as she could be
She shook the earth in her approach
As her heraldry.
An atmosphere of steam and smoke
Expanding in her wake
The Queen-of-the-Rails speeds on
An arrival soon to make.
Massive is her presence
Enormity her design
Power is her excess
This Queen is so refined
Once she ruled with majesty
When o’er the rails she flew
But … now, this one last time,
The railway bids: “Adieu”.
Slowly when she comes to stop
We see she’s thoroughbred
When water, steel and hard, black coal
Within her there are wed.
Her regal-ness resplendent
In fittings’ shining bright
Commanding our respect
O’er the rails of her last flight.
Now sitting at the siding
She’s puffing rhythmic breath
The museum’s destination
Of her life commits its’ theft.
Photographs will mimic
Her image of today
But missing from those photos:
Glories of Yesterday
When o’er the steel she thundered
Demanding from all who saw
Respect for Her grand power
Which held them all in awe.
But Glory, she found, was fleeting
When “progress” came to call
Her future then was set in stone
In the writing on the wall.
Now we hear the brake release …
Her throttle then is moved …
She inches down the shiny track
Where the land with steel is grooved
Then as she gains her speed
And whistles out her “yell”
An announcement for all to hear:
“I know I’ve served you well!”
She’s journeyed through the ages
And a boy – an old man now -
Watches as she fades away -
He waves, then shouts out: “Ciao!”
But in his mind is yesteryear
With his dog there by his side
Watching near the railroad tracks
Where the Queen-of-the-Rails did ride.
And long from now whenever
He says: “Remember when …”
In those times of reverie,
She’ll come alive … again.
February winds pound the siding scattering sand left by the snow plows through the gray angry air. The house seems full of small noises and little else. The cat has taken up his guard post in his rug-covered tree house and purrs in tune with the ping of the hot water pipes. Even the dust has settled.
empty chairs
surround a guestless table:
I stand cup in hand
Scanning the tidy kitchen with its Wedgewood-blue counters and rustic farm-scene border, I note, the cabinets need a good rubdown. Murphy’s Oil in hand I approach the oak with determination, and a soft pink flannel rag. The scent of lemon oil, crisp and clean, wafts past my nose. With great care, I climb a gingerbread chair to reach the highest cabinets over the stove. I balance, praying the seat cushion doesn’t slide out from under my feet. Opening the double doors, I view a stockpile of holiday décor, now unused. There below the paper Easter Eggs, I see them and a tear comes to my eye. Empty now, decades old, of all different sizes, red satin boxes, Valentine Hearts, forgotten.
disturbed dust
floats past my eyes:
the clock bongs once
First Published in haibun Today Fall 2013
We await the daily mail delivery with eager anticipation.
Alas, today came another batch of worthless information!
Of course there were the usual bills that arrive without fail,
But where's the check that guy promised would be in the mail?
We've received more return mailing labels than we'll ever use.
How our names got on their mailing lists, I have no clues.
To top it all, a summons for jury duty was today received.
Now that really ruined my day and left me sorely aggrieved!
A startling piece of mail from a realtor wanting to sell the house.
Thinking I had something to do with that really upset my spouse!
A blatant ad from a vinyl siding contractor wanting to make a sell.
Interesting we should receive that since in a brick house we dwell!
Another envelope had alarming news from the local funeral home.
Do they know something we don't know about a trip to the Celestial Dome?
Our life insurance company sent their usual annual birthday greeting,
Breathing a sigh of relief that our hearts are both still beating!
Lord have mercy and deliver us from this onerous perdition!
Curtailing this stuff would certainly improve our disposition.
On the computer I can simply stop such stuff by clicking 'delete'.
Oh, for such a simple system to make junk mail less replete!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
im awkwardly facing an officer, dont know what to expect
will we both jump the gun and start a civil unrest
will the tone of my skin be a story for press?
who’s the first to throw a stone with no sins to confess?
preachers and deacons finally come out to speak
but only when im dead and covered up in a sheet
where’s all the loving and the comfort for the mothers who weep
it happens on the daily children die on the street
it’s true this country does have crooked police
im not denying there arnt cops looking for people to beat
im not siding with those who hate the govern elite
i do firmly agree
that blacks are being a target to a certain degree
but being a people of freedom
only gets infront of the goals that they’re trying to achieve
it’s alot much bigger than you probably think
what happened to john F kennedy and M L king?
Luke 23:32-43
Heading east on 16th Street
where the road becomes a “T”
it’s the last house on the south side
that means so much to me.
Pine shrubbery up to the windows
giant cottonwoods stand guard
an arch above the driveway
an eighteen acre yard
Wrapped in warm wood siding
inviting young and old
“Come! Sit upon this porch of mine!
Such stories yet to be told!”
The shingled roof, though worn with time
still boasts unyielding strength
a red brick chimney standing tall,
giant windows down the length
I helped to plant those giant trees
when we were both still small
and pulled the weeds from every inch
of eighteen acres....ALL!
I’ve climbed out of those windows
some punishment to escape
I’ve run across that rooftop
donned in a long red cape
I’ve crawled under that porch
upon my hands and knees
to rescue baby kittens
or little brothers for to tease
I’ve chased the dogs around the house
upon my faithful steed
who was just a Shetland pony
but always up to the deed!
Within those walls, and out it seems,
many lessons there were learned
and in the process of it all
the memories, on my heart, were burned
Though things change, as all things do,
there, most things stay the same
like love and laughter flowing ‘round
and calling out my name
Now, when I’m growing weary
and need a place to hide
I jump into my trusty car
and go out for a ride
‘cause
Heading east on 16th Street
where the road becomes a “T”
that last house on the south side
means so much to me!
Trudy Diane Rider
10-2003
Oats,carrots and apples too
A new nail for my shoe
Washed and brushed on all my siding
A saddle for daily riding
Pretty braids and "pony" tails
Galloping on scenic trails
Stables with a straw like bed
Conversing with Mr. Ed
Doing tricks and having fun
Bringing joy to everyone
Cowboys, clowns and rodeos
I entertain in lots of shows
Neighing to get your attention
When I need love and affection
Warm and sunny --- snow and rain
Nothing can keep me contained
I like to be free and roam
Far away or near my home
I come in all shapes and sizes
Each one bringing new surprises
To my owners every day
With my silliness and ways
Big or small --- spots or colored
I'm a breed that's like no other
Beautiful and full of action
Bringing so much satisfaction
Whenever I am seen by those
Who like to get really close
Giving me pats of delight
I am a wonderous sight
Like tornadoes passed
flood waters receded
and hurricanes stilled
he was gone-
the 'worst was over'
and somehow
supposedly
life got right up
and carried on
So they said, in time
I’d get better
I would forget it happened at all
but they didn’t see
the damage in me
my soul left twisted
mangled and mauled
Whispers of past pain
mindless manipulation
echoing off my walls
of alienation
shrouded
in shadows of shame-
Cruel words curling
around my brain
endlessly repeating
his refrain
“worth-less”
“use-less”
“less”
“less”
“less”
Subtracting from
the sum of me
until there's nothing
left of me
and no way- how
to fill this space
Like aftermath
of violent storm
he’s left debris
and chaos behind
and blown away
the best of me
Roof and siding
torn off exposing
the brittle timbers
and broken framing
of years spent blaming
he was the cross
I silently bore
and now that I am
finally free
I’m at a loss
to imagine more
What it would look like
or be made of-
a home for a windblown
wandering waif-
place of comfort
kindness and healing
where I’d be whole
happy and safe?
Smokey was a funny cat,
Filled with fun and love;
Adventurous as all cats are,
And Master of the Hunt.
He stalked the house in search of that,
Which posed some kind of threat.
A bug, a mouse, a ball of yarn,
No pest escaped the net,
That he had formed around our home.
He took responsibility,
To protect us fro it all,
Because we were his family.
From babyhood he was my kin.
He always slept with me.
We played for hours in the yard,
Beneath the old Oak tree.
We climbed my swing set, climbed the tree,
Played in my sand box too.
Imagine my surprise to find,
He used it for a loo.
Kitty cat and little girl,
Fought jungle wars, climbed trees;
And then we sailed the seven seas,
Buccaneers were we.
We'd hide behind the sofa,
The curtains or in the hall,
And wait in ambush for our prey.
We really had a ball.
My sister's boyfriend happened by,
One night as we were hiding.
I yelled "Chaarge!" and Smokey leaped.
The boy knocked off the siding,
On the bookcase in the hall,
As Smokey climbed his leg,
And we were sent to bed that night,
T'hout supper though I begged.
Incarcerated pirates we,
The game continued on.
We'd wait until they were asleep,
Then eat till it was gone.
Then we'd escape into the night,
With valuables they cherished.
We'd be away by early light,
Leaving the guard embarrassed.
While closing my eyes, I return once again
to an image that nestles at the foot of the mountains
Snow crowns San Jacinto as it shadows the valley
I am there as a child in the house with white shutters
Red brick and mortar, and siding like butter
A southern front porch, is facing the hills
There are tall amber trees, and a stream, I recall,
somewhere that wanders, like a dream to remember
Bits and pieces are kept in a keepsake I've held
They filter on down to shelter me now,....
To wrap me in comfort, when I dwell in the dark
grieving for loved ones, who were there at the start.
When the chill of the winter, or those sleepless nights, tossing,
fills me with losses, that shadow the moon...
I'll see grassy knolls, and bright alfalfa acres,
A house and a barn framed with painted white fences
The house unpretentious, where yards need attention
Mist skimming the water, ducks swim in the pond
A small corral… my Dad, dressed in Levi's…
and a pitchfork, in hand, holds sweet golden hay
A barn, and twin stalls, a red chicken house,
a clothes line, where white sheets are bleached by the sun
The house is alive, morning bacon is frying,
Mom is listening while cooking, to a radio show
Clattering of dishes, and the chattering soap stars
fills the kitchen with sunshine, like a breath of fresh air
Warm are the colors, resembling butter
Wallpaper borders in bright, happy yellow.
There are echoes I hear, of a house in the night,
Comforting sounds of a room in the dark
My cat nestled close, at the foot of my bed
where I'm wrapped in the memory of that place where I lived
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
9/16/15